#and you should be aware of history never being that easy an equation

[ravelqueen]

When you see history opinions so reductive and because of that pretty much wrong but clearly with just enough research and knowledge behind them that you know it would be A Discussion that will prob just end in frustration ....

Another unfollow to soothe me I gss

[amedleyofthoughts]

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

When I heard the first few lines of this poem it was a video snippet of John Green responding to someone on another video. The person in said video was simply asking, "...tell me how to have hope that life can get better." (I will link that video for any who wish to view it). He goes on to say that if you notice that in Emily Dickinson's poem, she doesn't specify that one does not stop hearing the song of hope, but that the bird's song does not stop singing. John finishes this stitched video by saying, "But the song of hope is still singing and I know that you cannot hear it, but some day soon you will."

In such few words he was able to put my tumultuous soul at peace for a small time. I think it's easy for us as humans to fall into despair. This in my opinion is why it's so hard to pull ourselves out of the darker moments in our lives. Why would I want to have hope and do good things, and make better choices, or find happiness within this life, if it's all so meaningless? My existence is a blip, tiny and insignificant with no real measure of true accomplishment. I'm never going to be famous, invent something humanity cannot live without, make a grandiose achievement or accomplishment to be remembered by. You won't see my picture and name in a textbook in someones history book far into the future. I'm a just another human, a number in a population of billions of others, living on a rock, that is spinning and rotating around a star in an endless void. And yet...

I heard once that you cannot logic your way out of depression. That makes a lot of sense actually (how ironic). It feels in a way like being this self-aware of my mental illness is somehow hindered more because of it. I know what this is, I know what I should do to help myself, I know where to go and how to start, but...I can't. I wonder sometimes if it's the feeling of shame I feel for not being able to just do it. Or the thoughts of how someone out there on this rock has had a much harder life than mine up until this point, what could you possibly have to complain about? But I know very well how stagnant it's made me. In my relationships with friends and family. Within my professional life.

It's hard to remember and believe that my productivity does not equate to my value as a person. That the expectations of others do not define who I am or what I should be seeking from this life I've been given. When I cannot hear the song of hope singing, I remember. I still want change, I want hope, I want to believe it gets better. I want to hear the song that my little perched bird is singing just for me.

[merakiui]

I just had a thought... but imagine that, maybe after so much effort on your part, you manage to crumble Sebek's walls and made him fall in love with you, just as much as he unknowingly swept you off your feet with his brash but funny way how he conducts himself.

Sebek always speaks about the others with a little of belittling in his tone, whenever he spits the word "human"... unless it is directed at you, of course. But after so many years of living under that mentality, he can't help but feel a little ashamed of himself; after how he acted against any mortal in the name of his waka, now he finds himself under the spell of some from the same species he speaks of so patronizingly. He tries really hard to keep his strong and stern self even while alone with you, to at least salvage a little of his pride, but how can he, when you act so cute and lovable? Sebek will first be caught being gentle towards other humans before admithing loving how small your hands are compared to his, when he catches them after a couple of your attempts at snatching his cap from his head. You will always giggle and bat your pretty eyes, asking if he can lend it to you and, like the fool in love that he is, Sebek will relent at the very first try.

It should worry him how easy he can forget about time, his duties and dream of serving his lord. He will never forget the first (and hopefully) last time he handed a poorly-done homework for Professor Trein, badly redacted and filled with lots of grammatical errors so notorious that Trein actually required him, publicly, about the reason for such mediocre work the next time they had history. Sebek will never live down the murmurs of all his classmates trying and failing in being subtle about their gossiping, since the shame made him more aware of his surroundings. A blush coated his cheeks due to a brief flash of a couple of nights ago in his bedroom, where he was supposed to be seated with his books and paper on his desk, focused on getting homework perfectly done as that is his job as a student. But instead, he had you laying on top of it, hands pinned either side of your head, lips red and swollen with a glinting in your eyes so charged with feelings, enough to almost make him weak on the knees with yearning and love.

At least he was conscious enough in remaining quite, because he wouldn't have been able to make a lie right then and there, only deepening the situation for himself if he actually did.

Funny how you are the one without magic, yet every moment spent with you feels as such.

And that's why, Sebek was so adamant in you meeting his waka and master Lilia. He knows his feelings for you are beginning to turn into something more serious, he wants to make sure everyone gets along before thinking further about your relationship and how he could add you to the equation of his dream of becoming a knight (not that is that hard tho).

Master Lilia was quite easy. The two of you already knew about the other, so you hitted it off with bonding over Lilia's mischievous nature and retellings of all of the pranks and jokes he pulled on poor, gullible Sebek. He wished the interaction had gone without the need of that, but at least he basked on the sweet harmony that is your laugh.

Now, for Malleus...

Sebek admits he was a little bit apprehensive about this one. He is aware of how people react when in the presence of Malleus, but He is confident in your ability of making friends is fine enough to capture his waka's attention, altough deep in his heart, he knew the two of you will get along as well as how it went with Lilia.

He remembers to perfection the firsts moments of the, in his perspective, encounter number one. When the minutes passed and none of you said anything, the pit in his stomach grew with dread. But after what felt like an eternity, the faint smile you wore suddenly turned into a full toothy one, a hand raise and pointed straight towards his waka. This definitely caught Sebek off guard, as the blatant rude gesture rubbed him the wrong way even worse since it came from you. Clearly, your presence brought a new side of him, throwing him out of his loop of waking up and working hard to achieve his purpose in life. Is not that it was strong enough to dull his fast reactions, far from it, but he certainly grew comfortable in your presence, as he wasn't quick enough to swept you in his arm and bolt out of the common lounge once he caught the naughty glint in your eyes when they briefly broke contact with Malleus' to look at him.

You opened your mouth and he knew, that from that moment, he was going to regret whatever you were about to spill past your lips.

"I remember you! You never heard the nickname I made for you...--

'REMEMBER...? ...NICKNAME!? '

"--it was actually Grim, but details. Now, as agreed, I hereby proclaim you: Horntorn! Nice to officially meet You, Horny!"

...

...

...

Yeah, Sebek doesn't remember anything after that. His mind simply shut down and left the lounge in autopilot, completely missing the small amused smile on his waka's face.

Putting that aside, everything unfolded just as how he expected. The person he loves is in good terms with the ones he respect and trusted his life with life, this actually worried him more than he used to let on, as his schoolwork also improved... that is, if there's a wall or a chaperone between the two of you, he will guarantee a perfect score.

So high and happy at his current idilliac reality, that his eyes fell prey to the pretty and enthralling pink and gold of which dreams are usually made of.

It was weird for Malleus to act like he does around you, but Lilia is just over the moon seeing him getting along and accepted by someone that isn't from Diasomnia, so no one spared a second thought to their housewarden always claiming the only spot available next you, always seeing themselves scarce when engaging you in a conversation and Malleus' aura gets too much to handle. It reached to the point of people actually thinking that Malleus was your boyfriend instead of your sweet but so dumb aspiring knight. Sebek failed to see all of the increasing worried looks you sent him, the small hands he loves so much reaching out to him, just to be engulfed by his waka's hands to drag you somewhere else in the dorm, more private and just the two of us.

He missed to view these actions as what they are: another man trying to get his darling. Sebek even was quick to surrender the tickets to a movie you insisted a lot to go with him, wanting to have an actual date with your real boyfriend that is not interrupted by the dark fae. He even waved the two of you off with a smile on his face, too happy by how well all of this actually turned out to be.

You could only wish for a miracle, that Sebek would finally notice everything before it was too late.

But you also are in fault with such naive thinking...

There is no hope, or happy endings in a land living by the legacy created from greedy and malicious minds. Have you forgotten, the name of the land you awoke to many months ago?

Of course the reality of all came to Sebek one night, like a lighting rod stricken by lightning in a storm. Each struck of energy in the form of your screams and sobbed pleads of stop, it hurts.

He was supposed to meet with you in his bedroom after his study session at the library, finally taking into account of how little time the two of you have spend lately.

A dull, rhythmic thump thump could be heard from behind The door to his waka's personal chambers. For some reason, said noise brought back the interaction he not too long ago had with Lilia, asking if you have already arrived. The usual smile on Lilia's face dropped slightly and his eyes had an shine that Sebek couldn't decipher before Lilia turned around and answers 'Yes. Malleus is entertaining them as we speak.'

The clouds cracked once again as they charged another bolt, flying out without warning and landing with an earth shaking force on him.

"I want Sebek!"

For a second, the thumping stops, but is follow by the rustling of sheets and a soft gasp from you. Sebek awoke from any type of daydream he fell into the moment his brain realised what is his dear Waka doing to his love.

There was another sound, fainter, like you were struggling but the grasp was so strong you barely had space to move. Your cry of pain tore his heart apart, his left hand shakely raise to float above his open mouth, unable to complete the action as your sobbing raised in volume freezes him.

"Don't cry. There's no reason for that"

'Wakasama...'

"Even if he knew, he would do nothing"

...The worst part of all? Is that Malleus is actually right.

Tl;dr: Malleus cucks Sebek.

Holy shit, sorry if it gets trash in certain parts, I was falling asleep and lost the thread a couple of times *cries*

Omg omg!! This ask is so perfect and *chef’s kiss* that I don’t think I could add anything else, lest I spoil how delicious of a thought this is!!!! >_<

Sebek really would let it all happen, wouldn’t he? 😟

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia

[demoisverysexy]

mormon question: what was the deal with the nauvoo legion? like why did your founder need an army? I'm always confused cuz I hear all these nice things when y'all wanna knock on my door and tell me bout yourself but then I google what went down and its like, a 180 of the weird smiley kids that came over

Do keep in mind that, at least in its inception in Nauvoo, Illinois, that Mormons were the targets of violent mobs, attempted genocides (look up the Mormon Extermination Order in Missouri, which was not taken off the books until the 1970s), and all sorts of other atrocities. At that time, having a military was probably a good idea, given the general antagonism towards Mormons.

After the death of Joseph Smith, and the Saints relocation to Utah, it seems that the Legion survived, and engaged in military conflicts with Native Americans, which is not good, for obvious reasons. And of course, there is the matter of the Mountain Meadows Massacre, which was never condoned by the Church, and which the church has since publicly apologized for. I dont have much sympathy for the Legion in the years after the Saints left Utah, to say the least.

Mormon history is messy, just like any religions history. There are many things the Mormon Church has yet to apologize for which it hasn't yet. I acknowledge that. I don't think that Mormonism is particularly exceptional in the harm it has enacted in the world. This is not to excuse that, but merely to say that any religious person should be aware of how their religion was misused to hurt others, and to ensure that similar things do not happen moving forward. And it is more honest to acknowledge that your religion isn't perfect.

As a final note, while I understand getting questions about sticker moments in Mormon history, and am happy to answer them, I do feel that this question is just a tad combative. I understand that there is a lot out there about Mormonism, both historically and in the present day, and while I do like talking about these issues, those arent the responsibility of any given church member. Its like how the average American doesnt bear any responsibility for any of the heinous acts the United States has perpetuated. It isnt their fault that any of it happened. All they can do is try to live their best, understand their history, and perhaps try to make America a better country. Some people decide they hate America and want to leave, which is fine. Bit hating America isnt actually productive, and can instead lead people to being apologists for the heinous acts of other countries, with either similar crimes to the US or worse ones. There is nothing that is pure in this world.

I know it seems like I am taking this out on you personally. That isn't my intent. I think that youre asking this in good faith, and that you don't have any ill intent. You cared enough to ask this question, after all, and I don't get any "gotcha" vibes from it. I say all this just as something to think about when you engage with the problematic elements in religion broadly. Its a challenging topic with no easy answers, and reducing it into a simple all or nothing equation is a missed opportunity, in my opinion

[pendraegon]

hi ellian, I recently started trying to get into arthurian legend a bit and like, i'm working my way through some of chretien de troyes but sometimes I just want something a bit more modern and easy (I've read cliges and erec and enide.. oh my GOD erec is a dick), and if you feel like getting into it at all, why do you hate t.h. white / the once and future king ? whenever I look for recommendations its the first anyone recommends ! i'm so unsure whether to read it ?

hi!!! okay okay okay i legit got SO excited reading this because arthuriana ask<33 but also holy shit dude WHAT?? YOU READ..CLIGES AND EREC AND ENIDE FIRST?????????? cliges and erec and enide like oaisklfdjosadjfas they suck so much oh my god (anyways yeah welcome to the “we all hate erec” club on tumblr dot com, i think almost everyone who has read that text hates him with a passion) but holy shit if i started out with cliges and erec and enide i would never ever read arthuriana again. for chretien de troyes the only two things that are worth reading are yvain: knight of the lion and lancelot: knight of the cart. lancelot is significantly harder/more difficult than say yvain but also because de troyes fucking HATED lancelot and you can TELL through the text.

oh man..toafk...okay christ so we actually got into...a little bit of discourse, or as much discourse as you can GET in the arthuriana circles on tumblr, over this. i am hesitant TO call it discourse because i don’t believe it is at all but rather that me and a few friends were informing people just of...well..... it was a matter of a fact of the arthurian circle here on tumblr skews VERY white and toafk has a lot of racist/homophobic/misogynistic/ableist content in it that is either actively or unconsciously skimmed over and instead is just blatantly praised without ever getting into the nuance of discussing the fact that toafk by all means is NOT the end-all-be-all arthurian text. (personally it REALLY grinds my gears when people use toafk to cite their sources but that’s another matter aoisdjfoas)

th white is...well, th white himself and his works are incredibly racist in that there are SO many racial slurs used to the point that i remember being distinctly uncomfortable reading it, th white’s portrayal of palamedes (a muslim knight who is often portrayed as a “conversion fantasy”) is deeply upsetting, and the fact that th white uses a specific dialect FOR certain characters as well that gets even more skin crawling due to it. i cannot find the post for it but if i do i’ll update it but there are these “notes” of th white’s for toafk in which he says that lancelot (who toafk portrays as a gay man but lancelot, despite being one of the greatest and handsomest knights in legends, is portrayed as grotesque and ugly....the classical western thought of beauty = good, but also equating homosexuality to ugliness is. uh...not great) preys on younger men/squires (such as gareth, gawain’s brother). there is a lot of linking between homosexuality and pedophilia in toafk and the fact that toafk is LAUDED for this portrayal of lancelot makes me genuinely ill. similarly, mordred is shown to be the only disabled character but he’s villanized to the point of it being sickening. his portrayal of women especially in regards to guinevere is strife with misogyny (there’s this one specific part about how gaudy guinevere looks now that she’s old and applying makeup) and in regards to elaine of corbenic it’s uh. somehow he made elaine of corbenic WORSE than she is already.

that being said, toafk was published in 1958 and by all means i firmly believe that [1] no books SHOULD be banned ever but [2] that being said you MUST be aware of the author’s biases that seep into the text because of COURSE that happens. and [3] as long as you are AWARE of said biases (and th white has many and once you’re AWARE as well of th white’s family’s history in india you can’t unsee it in his work) and you KNOW what it is you’re imbibing, then by all means, use critical thinking skills -- there is still something to be taken from BY toafk and by what it is th white wrote but do not praise it as “the best” arthurian modern novel when it falls flat on so many levels. i feel similarly about mists of avalon which is another highly praised modern arthurian book especially in its portrayal of female characters, but lots of people simply do not want to talk about or KNOW that the author herself is a rapist and a pedophile. i’ve read both of these books and like, i wouldn’t recommend them at all because personally i also think that the writing sucks, but IF you read either of these works, it’s good to be aware exactly what it is you’re getting into. especially since arthurian circles, which again are predominantly white, often tend to keep these things very hush-hush or get VERY antsy if you speak out badly about toafk/mists of avalon.

arthuriana HAS and IS used as a dogwhistle online and in alt-right spaces. arthuriana HAS been used historically to promote islamophobic and antisemitic sentiment. arthuriana HAS been used to villainize people who don’t fit a particular “mold” of “normality”. arthuriana HAS been propaganda itself -- but that doesn’t make arthuriana bad or evil. arthuriana is a LIVING tradition, an evolving body of work -- for me, as someone who adores the medieval lit side of arthuriana, it’s extremely troubling to see just how the works from the 1900s and onwards has, instead of uplifting the genre as a whole to become more inclusive, has only become more entrenched in racist and misogynistic and homophobic thought. arthuriana deserves better, we deserve better, and arthuriana CAN be better.

here is a link to a discussion post that goes deeper into it!

[justnerdthings]

Never Again Ch. 10

Female OC x Raiden/Shang Tsung

Ooooh shiiiit!

@shang-hung @mammondaughter

A low, menacing laugh filled the Chamber, echoing off the stone walls. Fujin’s glowing blue eyes were sternly on Shinnok’s bound form. Fujin’s arms glowed with his tattoos in the dark chamber.

“You think I will help you?” Shinnok laughed despite his agony.

“I do,” Fujin answered, keeping his distance. “You’re weak, Shinnok.”

Shinnok scoffed, his head lolling to the side. His white eyes scanned the chamber and the history that decorated it. He scowled. “Who is your interior decorator?”

“What did you do to Helena?” Fujin asked, staying focused. He knew how Shinnok worked. Manipulation. As long as Fujin stayed focused, everything would be fine.

Shinnok’s brow hitched. Slowly, he raised his head to look back at the lesser god. A smirk played on his decaying lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fujin let out a frustrated sigh. “What did you do, Shinnok?”

Shinnok feigned surprise. His brows rose. “Me? Nothing! How could I when you and Raiden have kept me locked up for—” He paused, pondering. “How long has it been?” He asked curiously.

“Not long enough,” Fujin quipped.

Shinnok made a noise of annoyance and defeat. “What makes you think I had anything to do with Helena?”

“No one else would love to see the chaos that releasing her could cause.”

Shinnok smirked. “She certainly is a perfect little toy.” Fujin felt his chest tighten. Was that a confession? Was Shinnok behind all of this? “Ah, you are worried for her?” Shinnok teased, then laughed. “She is nothing.”

“She is not nothing,” Fujin protested, eyes narrowing.

“She is a mere mortal!” Shinnok argued. “An interesting one, but still only a small pawn.”

“A pawn?”

Shinnok chuckled. “Tell me, Fujin. How has Raiden been?”

“Let Helena go.”

“Oh! But you didn’t say ‘please’!”

Fujin’s brows knotted in impatience.

Shinnok chuckled again. “Why would I ever let her go?”

“Once I tell Raiden about your involvement, I believe you might wish for a true death.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “My dear, Fujin, you can not kill what is already dead.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I AM DEATH!” Shinnok declared with a booming voice. Fujin’s demeanor faltered for a moment in bewilderment. “Despite being locked away in my amulet, I still have ways of causing destruction to your precious little Earthrealm. I could have taken Helena from Raiden far before she rotted away in those catacombs. But once she was locked away and forgotten, she was so weak. It was too easy.” Shinnok’s words were dripping with venom. “She had been so thankful that I came to release her,” he told Fujin. Shinnok smirked. “I had given her a choice. She could simply die and go to Netherrealm, or…”

“Or what?” Fujin stepped closer, he could feel his blood boil.

Shinnok’s menacing laugh filled the chamber again.

“Or what?!” Fujin demanded.

“Where do you think she learned to enthrall?”

Fujin’s brows deepened in their knot. What did he mean— The mouse! Raiden said he had spotted a mouse with blood red eyes while they had been sparring. It was the last thing Raiden remembered before Helena had captured his mind. She had controlled his dream. Fujin felt his heart drop. “No…”

Shinnok lolled his head again and laughed wickedly.

---

Helena sat with Shang on a stone bench, overlooking the beach as the waves crashed against the menacing rocks of the shore. Helena was lost in thoughts and memories of her former life. She had been so happy then, so full of hope for the future… until she asked Raiden for something that she had been wanting for such a long time with him.

A child.

Oh, she wanted that more than anything. Just one would have been enough. Just one… But he had denied her request. It was out of the question. A child of his could cause an upset in the balance of the realms…

The realms. Of course he'd bring the realms into it. Was that all he cared about? His words had cut through Helena like a jagged blade. She had been utterly heartbroken. He'd tried to soothe her. Of course he did. But Helena hadn't wanted to hear his logic. She didn't want to hear what the Elder Gods had wanted. Raiden's efforts to calm her down were an utter failure.

She had prayed to the Elder Gods for their blessing. All she wanted was one child. They did not need to be given godly abilities. She just wanted that symbol of their love…

One of the Elder Gods had heard her prayers, but it wasn’t the one she had expected.

As the tournament grew close, Raiden had spent more of his time away from her. He'd focused on Kung Lao. Helena's fingers curled against the bench as she remembered his face. They had been friends. They had been teammates. He was a wonderful man. But her beloved gave him more attention. First, no child. Then, increasing neglect. Had Raiden grown tired of her? Had he feared she would press him too much? It couldn't have possibly just been to get Kung Lao ready for the tournament. Something else was part of the equation. She refused to believe it was that simple. There had to be something else. But one thing was for sure… Kung Lao had to go. No one was going to get between her and Raiden.

"You're going to break something if you keep that up, my dear," Shang's voice said, pulling her back to reality. She turned her head to give him a bewildered look. He'd pointed down to her hand. Her fingertips were white as she gripped the bench, and she had become aware of the sting surging through her fingers.

Helena took a deep breath as she forced herself to relax and lifted her hand to see tiny spots of red which coated her finger tips. Shang's brow rose as he noticed the small blood stains. Reaching over, he gently took her hand in his. A smile came to his face when he noticed she hadn't protested in the slightest. Lifting his other hand, it glowed a brilliant green before he placed it over hers.

Helena didn't let the obvious attempt of intimacy escape her notice. However, she didn't fight it either. It felt wonderful to be touched again, even with something so small and innocent. Any touch would feel as wonderful.

She didn't have to force herself to relax then. It came naturally.

Her hand buzzed as Shang held it between his two and gently applied a little magic. The stinging in her fingers had faded away. As soon as it had started, it had ended and Shang removed his top hand. Her fingertips had healed completely. He'd turned her hand over carefully and gently brought the back of her hand to his lips.

A pang of need--of longing twisted in her chest. She shifted a bit uncomfortably before he pulled her hand from his lips.

"What troubles you?" He asked, almost purred.

Helena's jaw clenched. How could she feel such things for Shang Tsung… How could she be so starved of affection that she would even consider him. The bond… Surely it had not been severed.

Shang's brows rose curiously with her silence and she took in a sharp breath. "Something is not right," she answered, cautious of her own words.

"Oh?" Shang gripped her hand, but not too tight. "What is it?"

"I do not know," she answered. "I… I miss my beloved."

Shang nodded and let his eyes drift away.

"But I find myself curious to your touch," she added. Shang had looked back to her.

“Allow me to satisfy your curiosity,” he said. He placed his other hand on top of hers again. No magic involved. This time he just held her hand with such care, such adoration, that she felt that little pang in her chest again.

But this was wrong…

She closed her eyes. She turned her head away as she pulled her hand from his.

Shang sighed. Ordinarily, he would simply take what he desired. But he had no intention of forcing, or manipulating Helena.

A flash of lightning caught both of their attention before its roar echoed through the island. Looking into the sky, they could both spot the thunder god hovering above. Helena rose to her feet as a loving smile graced her face--a stark contrast to the frown that was there only seconds ago.

As Raiden lowered himself to the shore, he stood on the edge of the dock and looked with annoyance to the barrier blocking his way. Helena had walked herself down to the dock and to the barrier's wall. She stood only a foot away from him, but it may as well have been an entire realm. He could not touch her.

Helena looked up into her beloved's glowing eyes and instantly recognized the guilt that lurked behind them. She frowned.

"Helena…" Raiden called softly to her. Even his voice held his guilt. Her heart twisted at the sound of it.

"Beloved," She answered as her eyes traced the lines in his face.

"I wish to speak with you," he told her.

Her frown tweaked ever so slightly towards a smile. "Of course, my love."

"Alone."

Her jaw clenched. She watched Raiden's glowing orbs shift in the direction of Shang Tsung, then back to her. A pleading look came to his face.

Helena would not fall for that. If she stepped out from the barrier, he would whisk her away. He may even imprison her again. Of course he would. That is what he had wanted of her. She didn’t move from her spot as she watched his frown deepen. She shook her head.

“Helena,” he pleaded.

“No,” she told him. “I will not be imprisoned again.”

Raiden’s jaw hardened. He supposed she had reason to believe he would lock her away again. He would. He had to. And he had broken her trust. He would have to regain it. To regain it, he would have to make himself vulnerable. Even if Shang Tsung was present…

He bowed his head to her. “I understand,” he said, keeping his voice low and just for her. “I have hurt you. I have damaged our relationship.” He had to stop himself from telling her, once again, that it was the Elder Gods who had called for her imprisonment. He’d been told that would not help him. He’d been told, that saying he had no choice, would not make any of this any better. He dragged in a deep breath as he searched for the words he needed to say… He was not good at this.

“I should have fought for you,” he’d decided on. Which seemed to have been the right words, because Helena’s face softened. It gave him the much needed encouragement to continue. “You are more important to me than anything else. I agreed to that when I gave you my vows. I did not intend for them to conflict with my duties as a protector of Earthrealm. I… I made a mistake,” he admitted.

Helena’s brows knotted with his confession. What did he mean by ‘mistake?’ She felt her heart sink at the idea of herself being the mistake.

Raiden could sense her sudden fear. He moved to take a step towards her, but was stopped by the barrier. He heaved a helpless sigh. “You are not the mistake,” he clarified. “I should have known that my promise to you would conflict with my duties… I… I should have resigned from them.”

Helena then took a step forward. “You would never resign,” she told him. She knew her beloved well.

His jaw hardened. “No, I would not,” he agreed. “I should have fought for you,” he’d repeated. That’s what made the most sense to him. Instead of letting the Elder Gods condemn her, he should have defended her… Take the fall with her.

That was all she wanted to hear. She’d been waiting four hundred years for him to admit his failure… but forgiveness would not come so easily for her beloved. Four hundred years… “Thank you,” she told him and took a deep breath.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked.

“No,” she answered and watched pain spread through his features. “You remain my beloved. But I can not forgive you.”

“Helena…”

“You will feel my wraith,” she said, closing the distance between herself and the barrier, as close as she could get to him without jeopardizing herself. “You will feel my pain.”

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Ao3

In My Way

Au: Spy Au

Words: 1931

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Sasori

Warnings: murder, Blood, excessive amounts of Sass. Graphic depictions of violence.

Summary: Kakashi has a job to do, but there’s a familiar face in the crowd that tells him it won’t be as easy as he originally thought.

Get into the party, take out the target, get out without being caught.

The mission was simple. Something that he could do with his eyes closed, except for one small detail.

Sasori.

The deadliest Toxicologist known among every intelligence agency around the world. His work with poisons was revered by every toxicologist, including Anko. Even if she refused to admit it.

His presence at the party, while a welcome sight to Kakashi’s eyes thanks to that beautiful black and the red suit he had chosen to wear, was a hindrance to his mission. Not because Sasori was doing anything to stop him from completing the job.

It was quite the opposite judging by the fact that he had just seen Sasori drop something into his target's glass mere seconds ago.

Their goals were the same, and he’d rather die than allow Sasori to get the pleasure of saying he killed the target.

Making his way through the small crowd, he set his eyes on the phone in his hand. A convenient distraction to use, typing away furiously to an imaginary friend as he collided head-on with the target.

Red wine spilled all down his front, staining the white shirt he had chosen to wear to the party and earning him the ire of his target.

“Would you watch where you’re-” Taking one look at Kakashi, the man cut himself off and immediately changed his demeanour. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that you were there.”

If Kakashi was a weak-willed man he would find himself easily fooled by the soft tone of voice and the gentle touch of his arm. Thankfully he was trained for this exact situation.

“Sorry,” he laughed awkwardly, wanting his target to lower his guard. “I should have been paying attention. I was just…” His eyes darted down to his phone, a sad look crossing over his face for just a second before he plastered a smile on his face. “Never mind. Are you alright?”

“I’m not the one with red wine spilled down my front,” the target chuckled. “Your shirt is ruined.”

Feeling an arm coming down around his shoulder, Kakashi allowed the other man to turn him around and lead him towards a private table while chatting his ear off about the party and how much effort he had put into making it perfect. Something Kakashi forced himself to smile along with and listen to, even as he kept his eye out for Sasori.

This wasn’t going to be his only attempt, and Kakashi still had information that he needed to get before he could finally take care of the job himself. He just had to keep the man alive long enough to get that information, which meant keeping Sasori from slipping him any poison.

A task that was easier said than done given Sasori’s history.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Getting the target to trust him hadn’t taken long at all. For someone good at manipulating others, the man was just as susceptible to his tactics. Or he was just a sucker for a pretty face, and Kakashi didn’t have a pretty face.

Now he just had to get the man to spill the beans about some of the people he worked with.

“It sounds like a lonely job,” toying with the little umbrella in the drink he had been offered, Kakashi kept an eye out for any sign of Sasori. “Do you at least have any friends to keep you company? Or are you one of those people who thinks he doesn’t need friends?”

His target laughed, one arm resting on the seat behind Kakashi. “Friends are a hindrance in my line of work. I prefer to keep people at a length. Emotions are just another factor in the equation of life that I don’t want to have to deal with.”

A line he had heard far too many times over the years, from enemies and allies alike.

“Well, that just sounds like a lonely life to me,” Leaning forward on the table he forced himself not to cringe or lash out when he felt the man’s fingers playing with the edges of his hair. “No one to keep you company.”

“You could keep me company.” The offer is real, though Kakashi knows it would be only for a night if he were to take him up on it. Not that he needs to. He’s so close to getting what he wants.

Which makes it all the more annoying when he sees a familiar head of blazing red hair walking past acting like nothing is going on as he tips something into their target's drink.

Stubborn shit.

Leaning in a little closer to his target, Kakashi notched the charm up by fifty percent and gave him his best smile. “And what would that involve, hmm?” poking the man in the chest playfully, he chuckled when he was rewarded with a soft grunt. “Come on now. I can’t just jump in without knowing what I’m getting myself into.”

With little distance left between them, Kakashi used the distraction to push his target's glass back just a bit. Not knocking it off of the table, but shoving it right to the edge. Hopefully, his target wouldn’t realize and would take care of the rest for him.

“There’s a lot of things that it involves,” the target's smile sent shivers down Kakashi’s spine, though he kept a neutral expression on his face. “It could involve getting to know each other a bit better, some fun activities in private...” he brought a hand up to cup Kakashi’s cheek, cursing when his elbow collided with the glass of whiskey and sent it toppling over onto the ground.

“Oh,” tilting his head, he smiled when the target looked back at him. “I guess I’m not the only clumsy one tonight.”

Somewhere far away he could just imagine Sasori screaming into a napkin and cursing his name, and just that image gave him the strength he needed to keep flirting with the man in front of him.

He was going to get what he wanted no matter how damn hard Sasori tried to stop him.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Once he had finally gotten the target to start talking it was smooth sailing ahead. It had only taken a couple of drinks until he was just drunk enough to start talking. Three of which had been poisoned at some point by a very determined Sasori, but Kakashi had found a way to get rid of those ones without being too obvious about what he was trying to do,

It was honestly a little tiring. Trying to save his target’s life when he knew that at the end of the night the man would be dead anyway, regardless of if it was Kakashi or Sasori who killed him.

Just a bit more and he’d have everything that he needed.

“It sounds to me like you don’t get along with this guy too much. Why do you keep working with him if he’s causing you so many problems?” he asked innocently as he stirred his drink with the little umbrella.

“Best dealer in the business,” his target laughed bitterly. “Couldn’t find someone better no matter how hard I tried. And trust me, I’ve tried.”

So close. He could almost taste the successful mission.

Which of course was exactly when an interruption arrived in the form of a hand being slammed down on the table between them and furious brown eyes burrowing holes into his very soul.

“Can I help you?” tilting his head he met Sasori’s gaze head-on. This was not a mission he was willing to fail just because the redhead couldn’t take a hint and leave his target alive for five more minutes.

“You have been hogging the cutest guy in this whole party for the past two hours,’ that was not a response he had been expecting. “I get it, you’re adorable. You have a great smile, but you could at least share his attention.”

A great smile?

Folding his hands together Kakashi rested his chin on top of them and gave Sasori that ‘great smile’ that he had mentioned. “Isn’t there someone else you could bother for the attention your daddy never gave you?”

If looks were as deadly as Sasori’s poisons, he would certainly be dead right now. A well-deserved death of course, since the jab was a lot more personal coming from the son of Konoha Intelligence Division’s White fang. After all, anyone who knew Sasori was more than aware of his father’s death.

A death he had met during a mission gone wrong against the White fang.

“You think you’re all that, don’t you?” Sasori looked like he was ready to pounce, and Kakashi didn’t doubt that if he did there would be a poisoned Kunai in his hand. “You’re not even that good looking. I think he could do better.”

Lies.

He was drop-dead gorgeous.

“It sounds to me like someone’s just jealous he couldn’t catch the cute Guy’s attention. You really should lower your standards a little to match up with what’s achievable for you.”

He’s certain Sasori’s actually about to jump over the table and attack him after that one, but their target places a hand on each of their chests to hold them back. A precautionary measure that wouldn’t stop them if they decided to fight.

“Come on you two, there’s no reason to get nasty,” His words are slurred a little from all of the alcohol he has consumed, and the smile on his face is creepy and almost predatory. Just looking at it makes Kakashi shiver. “You don’t have to fight over me. We could always just share. You’re both very…”

No amount of information was worth hearing that sentence finished. Not that he would get the last bit of information that he wanted thanks to Sasori’s little interruption.

And since there was nothing else to be gained, Kakashi didn’t feel bad about unsheathing his hidden knife and plunging it into the man’s neck at the same time as Sasori.

It was messy, disgusting, definitely drew more attention than he would have liked, and yet oh so satisfying to finally put an end to that aggravating nails on a chalkboard voice.

“You ruined my mission,” He narrowed his eyes towards Sasori, sour that he hadn’t gotten all of the information that he had wanted. “You couldn’t have just waited another five minutes, could you?”

“And let you get a perfect mission while I've been cursing your name for the past two hours every time you managed to dump his drink or get rid of the poisoned donut even though I know you didn’t see me put it there? Not a chance.”

Donut? He hadn’t realized that the donut he had handed off to one of the man’s bodyguards to distract them was poisoned. It was a good thing the man had wrapped it up in a napkin and tucked it away in his pocket for later.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” scanning the area, he growled when he saw that everyone in the room had turned to look at them. “Anyways, congratulations on the kill. Hope your bosses are happy, don’t call me and I won’t call you.”

Planting his hands on the table, Kakashi heaved himself over it and made a run for the nearest window, praying that Rin had been paying attention the whole time and was on her way in to pick him up.

The quicker he got out of here, the less likely he was to have to deal with Sasori’s bruised ego.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It’s This Jealousy 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!)  Warnings: masturbation  Summary: 

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried. 

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.  

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

[transjoyblog]

The 5 Most Powerful Lessons I Have Learned from Chasing Financial Independence

Photo by KANIKA PANT on Unsplash

I have always been interested in money. I have always understood the value of saving for something you want and the value in owning your own means of making more money. My mother always told me that working for someone else would never be stable and the only way to independence is owning your own business. This is not exactly true, but this advice did spur my interest in the concept of financial independence. I ran across this idea for the first time when I was maybe 17 years old. I read an article by the great Mr. Money Mustache and ended up doing a deep dive on his website. I was inspired. I thought that I had finally found the solution to the risk associated with owning a business. I was going to be financially independent.

Then I got a little older and had to start providing for myself and my girlfriend. We had a goal of moving out of our parents house, and the tiny little desert town where we grew up, to move to a much larger (read: more expensive) job market. That’s when I learned my first lesson:

Financial independence is simpler than it seems, but that doesn’t mean it’s easier.

If you spend any amount of time on a blog dedicated to the FIRE movement you are bound to come across an article (or 10) about the few simple habits that lead to financial independence. These articles are really informative, and a helpful place to start when building frugal habits, but this simplicity belies frugality’s true nature. Put simply, being frugal is hard. Really hard. My girlfriend and me have made some big sacrifices. When I wasn’t making any money, (think $500/month) we didn’t have many friends. We hung out at my girlfriend’s sister’s house a lot, and we ate really simply. Oatmeal for breakfast, rice and beans for lunch, and we went over to her parents house for dinner more often than we wanted to simply because we would otherwise go without dinner. Other factors contributed to this particularly extreme situation. My girlfriend was very sick, so she couldn’t eat well even if we could have afforded it, and she was so weak that maintaining friendships was basically impossible. We also weren’t perfect about it, even when I was making that little. I failed, messed up, got angry, frustrated, and worn out more often than I was successful, but that all served the larger goal of teaching me that simple habits do matter, but I couldn’t expect them to be easy to execute.

2. Know thyself

This particular period of our lives was also filled with navigating the consequences of our parents financial mistakes. My mother decided to take out huge student loans just to get my sister out of the house, and send her to a rather expensive university in the middle of the country. This proved to be a terrible decision. My sister ended up transferring to her local community college, for which she needed to take out more loans. All told, my sister came out with an AA and something in neighborhood of $60,000 of student debt between herself and the loans my mother took out on her behalf. I’m not sure how much of this my mother helped her with, but suffice it to say my mother was in a terrible financial position for awhile, one from which she has yet to fully emerge. This set of dubious decisions was motivated by more complex thinking than I have laid out here, but the end result is the same nonetheless. My mother stretched herself too thin.

If you are truly pursuing financial independence, you have to have a really clear picture of your finances, but you also have to understand how you react to financial pressure, how much risk you are able to take with your investments, and you have understand what your target is. If you are the kind of person who just throws money at a problem until it goes away, you will find it difficult to save for any kind of future. You have know that you have this tendency and consciously make decisions against this knee jerk reaction. If you don’t like having your back against the wall when creditors come calling, pay off your credit card balance in full every month, and never take out a loan that you expect someone else to help pay for (because there will inevitably come a time when they can’t pay). If you are just aiming to get your kid through college, then look for the most affordable option. Don’t send them to the 4 year right away if you really can’t afford the loans for all four years. An important tip for all you parents out there, know yourself and know your children. Be brutally honest in assessing your child’s ability to perform at university because it is simply impossible for them to be. People simply do not have a clear enough picture of their own abilities at any age, let alone an untested 18 year old. If my mother had done nothing else but this, she could have avoided everything. If she and my sister had just been honest about what my sister could handle, they would have realized that sending her to an expensive, extremely difficult program 1,000 miles from home was maybe not the best idea. She could have even gone to the community college in a better location. That alone would have saved them tens of thousands of dollars. My theory is that my mother was a little blinded by her own history, and she didn’t want to deny her child the same opportunity that her parents gave her. My mother left home at 17 years old for a very expensive (at the time), extremely difficult program at a private university 1,000 miles from her childhood home. This is where their stories diverge. My mother’s university was not nearly as expensive as my sister’s. My mother is also a very different person than my sister. She was the kind of kid who kept track of her own grades from 4th or 5th grade on, and encouraged her children to do the same. She did this because she, in her words, “wanted every single point [she] deserved”. Unsurprisingly, neither my sister nor myself actually did this. Ever. Not even in college. We are just different people. And if my mother had been able to admit this fact, she could have saved everyone a lot of headache.

3. FI is a huge goal, and it may seem impossible when viewed from the start

Most people understand that being the first person of your family to graduate from college is a huge moment for a lot of people, and rightfully so. College can be incredibly difficult especially if you are the first person in your family to attend to completion. The one thing that people like myself, whose family has had 3 generations of college grads, don’t even think to consider is that families that do not have this privilege may not have the full picture of what it takes to finish college. The first person to graduate will not only be doing it alone, but they will have to balance the pull of a family that may not understand or respect how much time, money, and effort you actually have to invest to achieve graduation. The same basic issue arises when you are pursuing financial independence. Your family may not even understand what you mean, or why it matters so much to you. You will have to be prepared for this possibility, no matter what goal you are striving toward. However, just like being the first person to graduate college in your family, being the first person to achieve financial independence is a huge accomplishment.

This something that I thought I knew. I was aware of how large an undertaking this would be before beginning my pursuit, but I call it a lesson because I didn’t truly know how this reality felt until I was in the middle of it. As I get older, and my personal finances are no longer purely theoretical, I have come to understand just how difficult FI is. The pandemic brought this into sharp relief. I lost my job at a bakery, went on unemployment, and moved back in with my girlfriend’s parents while still paying rent in San Diego. I got a job a few months later, and it was a good one. I thought I was set for awhile. I thought we had our FI strategy in view; I was wrong. The company couldn’t afford me anymore and let me go after just under 3 months. All of sudden, we were living off of our small savings. We burned through them because unemployment took about 2 months to get my payment to me. I ended up taking a minimum wage job at a factory. I hated it. We were back to being broke and making minimum wage, this time with less savings, more overhead costs, and no way to know if I would be able to find a better job any time soon. Financial independence never looked further away. This experience did however, serve as a great way to really drive home the fourth lesson:

4. Odds are, it will take a lot longer than you originally hoped, and when you are just starting out you will face major setbacks especially if you are in a lower income bracket

Dealing with setbacks in an effective and resilient manner is something you should anticipate and prepare for, regardless of when you start your journey towards independence. Basically anyone with any level of financial savvy will give you this sage piece of advice. It was losing my job twice in one year, however, that taught me that frugal habits are great tools, and they will help you get out of and avoid a lot of pain and suffering. But that doesn’t mean that these habits are a magic shield that will save you from any downside. Setbacks are hard on you. They can mess with your mind, and cause you to doubt everything you thought about your progress up to that point. When I get into this state of mind, I have found that it helps to remind yourself that progress is not a linear equation. Progress is a lot more like the Japanese proverb “Fall seven, rise eight.” You have to be prepared to have that kind of grit.

5. It is a lot harder to save money, when you don’t make money

There has been a lot of ink spilled, both physical and digital, on exploring the different aspects of the phrase “Money doesn’t buy happiness.” One of my favorite studies to cite on this issue is a study out of Purdue University that explored the concept of “income satiation” around the world. Meaning, how emotionally and physically “satisfied” people report being in relation to their annual income. This is a quote pulled directly from the abstract of the study. “Globally, we find that satiation occurs at $95,000 for life evaluation and $60,000 to $75,000 for emotional well-being.” This statistic has been quoted, analyzed, and touted by many a finance journalist as proof that money doesn’t buy happiness. However, I would be very happy making $60,000 to $75,000. With our current expenses my girlfriend and me could save for financial independence within a decade or so of making that much money. This would include reaching all of our goals of buying a house, and land, and finishing college. But a lot of people simply will never have a salary this high. They may have a total household income in this range, but living in a 2 income household is, in itself, a privilege. Once I realized that I could feasibly never make that much in a salaried position without a college degree, I had to expand my FI strategy beyond just “get a decent job, save as much as possible, invest a ton of money, and wait.” I have to invest in my education. I have to invest as early as possible in the stock market. I have to build something outside of a regular job that could possibly act as a hedge against job market instability. I have to make “earn more money” a huge priority. I never thought that was a worthwhile pursuit but it really is. Making money opens up so many opportunities, if you know what to do with it. Which is why it would be good for higher income earners, and people that have already achieved FI to remember that making money is difficult. Investing time, energy, money, and effort into growing something that may not even pay off is simply not possible for a lot of people, and it would serve anyone well to remember this throughout their journey to financial independence.

Citations:

Jebb, A.T., Tay, L., Diener, E. et al. Happiness, income satiation and turning points around the world. Nat Hum Behav 2, 33–38 (2018). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-017-0277-0

[jebazzled]

SOOO the Drama: Making it Work with Tragic Backstories

Hi everyone, how are we doing? It’s been a while since my last unsolicited tutorial. Is everyone eating well? Is everyone drinking water? Dressing warmly if it’s cold wherever you live? 

Today we’ll be talking about tragic backstories, and how to use them rather than abuse them. 

This tutorial will mention a number of triggers, though not with great detail - more in the interest of providing context. 

Specific triggers mentioned: abandonment, verbal abuse, child neglect, car accident, transphobia, animal death, cheating, bullying, parental death

In the rp community we often joke about loving to put our characters through hell - about really running them ragged - making ourselves weepy. For a lot of us, writing Heavy Emotional Content is a lot more fun than fluff, or characters who are happy, fulfilled, and well-adjusted. I’m literally planning to kill off one of my characters in the next couple of weeks. I get it. 

But there’s also a fair amount of discourse in the rp community about what is pejoratively called “trauma porn.” It’s discourse that is warranted! Because while we love fictional drama, the truth is that sometimes...

well, sometimes it can be too much, can’t it? 

Here’s the thing about trauma: a tragic backstory does not a well-developed character make. Too often, too many of us lean on these traumatic histories as a crutch towards building a character, without meaningfully exploring that trauma with any depth. The truth is, in fiction, tragedy only builds character when when you do. And tragedy is far from the only way to create a nuanced character. 

In this tutorial, we will examine common approaches to character backstories, alternatives to tragedy-as-a-default, and figure out how to have your cake (the feels) and eat it too (with purpose.)

BUILD-A-BACKSTORY

In my experience, the most common approach to writing a freestyle application is writing a chronological history (you can read my app guides, including thots on alternative styles of freestyle, here). Ain’t nothing wrong with that! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! 

It’s an approach that makes sense, as it forces you to fill in the blanks to answer the question: why is my character Like That? And often, as writers, our first instinct is to provide the saddest answer possible.

“Why is Susie so clingy?” 

Her parents abandoned her at a fire station when she was an infant, and rather than being raised in foster care, she grew up at the fire station. But the entire company that raised her died while fighting a wildfire, and she is certain that any time anyone walks away from her, they will never come back. 

“Why is Brent such a misogynist?” 

His mother never wanted him and told him so every day of his youth. When he hit puberty, she stopped speaking to him entirely, and the day he turned eighteen, she changed the locks while he was at school. 

“Why is Lichen such a high-achieving go-getter?” 

Lichen was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning they break their legs, and every afternoon they break their arms. At night, they lie awake in agony until their heart attacks put them to sleep.

Feels like a lot, doesn’t it? I may have done a little exaggeration, but - not a lot, frankly. 

Especially if other characters on a site are loaded with tragic histories, it can be hard not to equate a certificate from the school of hard knocks with a Pulitzer. You want something juicy to write about, yes? And this is all so juicy! 

But here’s the rub: often, these histories will never come up again outside of an application, or will not be practically dev’d out beyond shock value. Susie will never be reminded of Frank, the fireman who taught her to ride a bike. Brent will focus his sexist comments on objectifying women’s bodies rather than degrading their personalities and motives, which were the issues with his mother. Someone who didn’t read Lichen’s app would have no clue that they have had a total horror show of a life. 

If you are writing a tragic backstory that doesn’t have a continual impact on your character, you are writing trauma porn, and it is doing nothing for your character. 

This doesn’t mean that your characters should be fully and constantly occupied with memories of their trauma - in fact, constant introspection is an easy way to stall threads (per my “why aren’t people writing with me?” guide here) - but it does mean that if your answer to the question, “why is my character Like That” is a compelling one, it is one that a reader should be able to answer even if they haven’t read your app, if they’ve read a few of your threads or other writing. 

This is a careful balance, of course, but think of your characters the way you think of yourself! For example: probably the most Potentially Dramatic thing about my personal life is that my older sister is developmentally disabled, and I am one of her legal guardians. When my parents die, I will inherit my older sister, and will uproot my life from wherever I am living at the time to move back to my hometown and make sure she is taken care of and happy. This is not something that I constantly think about, but it is difficult to know me for any meaningful length of time and not be aware that I have a developmentally disabled sister, as I mention her in passing, think about her when her favorite music comes up on Spotify, and tell people to donate to her favorite charity, Special Olympics. 

If I were writing an app of myself as a character and spent a good portion of the app untangling my relationship with my sister, and then never mentioned her in any of my thread posts, then is she really important to my character? Or was I flexing her for depth?

Do you see what I am getting at here? If it matters, it will come up more than once. If it only comes up once, and it’s in your app, you should think of something to explain your character’s personality and motivations that is perhas a little less loaded. 

BUT WITHOUT THE SADS, HOW DO?

The good news is: you absolutely do not need a tragic backstory to write a nuanced character! Again - think of your characters the way you think of yourself, or of other real people. While everyone has gone through heavy things in their lives from time to time, chances are that your life does not resemble that of a soap opera protagonist. And aren’t you a multifaceted person, full of depth and life? Aren’t you someone whose story is worth telling, even if it feels like your life is pretty ordinary? 

After all, it’s not the past that makes a character - it’s the present, their current voice, actions, and missteps. That is where you want the real juice to be, because that is the shit you’re writing! 

Some potential “everyday histories” for our above cast of characters:

“Why is Susie so clingy?”

In elementary and middle school, Susie was bullied on and off - a few weeks spent hanging out with the in-crowd, followed by a month as a social pariah. She could never understand why. When she moved to a different state for high school, she attached herself like a barnacle to the clique the Tulips, and has made it her goal not to let herself get shaken back to the outskirts this time. 

This isn’t as dramatic as Susie’s earlier backstory - in fact, it could apply to any number of people, being passed between friend groups for years on end. But again: your character doesn’t need a one-of-a-kind daytime talk show-worthy backstory to have a unique and compelling history and voice! 

“Why is Brent such a misogynist?”

Brent’s mother never wanted children, and made it pretty clear to him throughout his youth. His father, though, as always there for him - including when his mother walked out and never came back, after cheating on Mr. Brent’s Dad for years. From then on, Brent and his dad only had each other - and their bitterness towards the woman who wronged them.

This still gives you some family drama - unloving mother, and some adultery - but having Brent be raised by someone who has their own beef with women eliminates the shock value of locking your son out merely for being a boy. Also, this take acknowledges misogyny as a learned behavior.

“Why is Lichen such a high-achieving go-getter?”

When their parents divorced, Lichen only came out to their mother as nonbinary, and presents a fully different persona when they are with their father. Being in the top 5% of their high school class and being a national champion Lincoln-Douglas debater is the only thing Lichen and (deadname) have in common. 

I acknowledge that Lichen’s previous story was a meme. The above story could be made much more intense (for example, if Lichen’s father were a member of the Westboro Baptist Church and then Lichen’s supportive mother dies in a freak accident and Lichen, unable to hide their true identity, is imprisoned in their father’s basement until they pretend to have seen the error of their ways and identify as cis again) but the above gives plenty to chew on! 

While drama and trauma can be satisfying to write, there is plenty of drama to be found in the everyday. Building a well-rounded character is much less about what happened to them and much more about what they are doing, thinking, and feeling now. 

That said, 

TIPS & TRICKS FOR WRITING TRAGIQUE CHARACTERS

Don’t go overboard. If it is not going to come up ever again after the app: leave it out. 

Impact is about the character, not the reader. If it was important enough to leave in the app, it should have an identifiable impact on your character. The main purpose cannot have been to shock the reader. 

It’s not meaningful JUST because it happened. If someone can follow your character’s story for any extended amount of time and not realize that, say, your character’s mother died in a boating accident, then it isn’t actually important that your character’s mother died in a boating accident, and you should let her live. 

If ALL of your characters have a heavily dramatic backstory, ALL of your heavily dramatic backstories lose their meaning. Dramatic backstories are fun but they should not be a constant: they will begin to feel cheap and lazy. 

Your character does not need to dwell on their tragic backstory! While a character should acknowledge their history, a character does not need to realize that their backstory is meant to be tragic. For example, Sally might have been raised by her Aunt Agatha after her parents disappeared in a hot air balloon when she was a baby. Rather than being sad about her missing parents, Sally might think of them as total strangers and of Agatha as her sole parental figure - and her sadness might be for Agatha, who does miss Mr. and Ms. Pumpernickel. 

And that’s literally all she wrote! I hope you find this helpful when you’re writing your characters - tragic or otherwise - and developing their plotlines. The world is not made of trauma and fluff alone, friends. Go forth and contain multitudes!

[yokelish]

The Safest Distance

✏ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs ✏ Characters: Dazai Osamu ✏ Word count: 2148 ✏ Warnings: none.

The Safest Distance

Dazai looked up and smiled. It was but a tremble of muscle yet something long forgotten just resurfaced in his mind. A long-forgotten memory painted with light strokes on the canvas of the pinkish sunset sky. The memory was a fleeting one, sure, washed in the dying out light of the day. It was fragile and oh-so-worn with time and deception of one’s perception. Nonetheless, a memory he didn’t mind coming for a visit today. Chin coming to rest on his palm, he breathed in the warm salty air, as the breeze ruffled through his hair, coat, and the pages of the book. Dazai sighed. The sound of the pages turning reminded him what the memory had interrupted: he was waiting. In a place he wouldn’t choose for a meeting, but still… Something possessed him to come to this place of unbearable quiet and serenity. Among people who can live — and he will never understand how — blissfully in deceit. They can live and laugh and do something else, many more other wondrous things, believing in deception of their own creation to the last breath. Washing with it, sleeping and eating, all the while wrapped in tender lie they tell day after day.

The symbols on the pages turned meaningless the longer he stared at them. Or perhaps they gained new and much deeper meanings. Each stroke of the black ink against the white pages, perfectly contained meaning and sense, word after word. It is but a neatly packaged experience of life, wrapped in a bound and cover. It is but an experience of things with the preservation of safety and distance, allowing for perspective and the greatest celebrated treachery: the meaning isn’t ascribed, it’s given. Its value is, too, but given by whatever hand holds it, whatever curious eyes read it, and whatever inquiring mind makes of it. The greatest celebrated treachery, a beautiful deceit that lives through centuries in a single breath.

“You aren’t reading,” said the voice behind him. Someone — that perfect someone —had taken a seat behind his. In this café, among the people, this was the voice he came to hear and listen to. The sound of it carefully unwrapping the memories he purposefully put away in the deepest corner and laid them to rest. If only one could tell him to dismiss them all together, to forget whatever cupboard it was hidden in. No one could, however. No one was there for that.

“I am reading,” he meekly protested, “but not the book itself. I’m reading everything about it.” He closed the book and leaned back in his seat. The person on the other side, sitting behind his seat, Dazai could choose to turn around and look. It would be a simple thing, an expected thing from people who meet in a place like this, from people who met on purpose. But there was a reason why they didn’t share a table, why the talked to each other without looking. There was an unwritten history between them, a story that will never be told. And the words they exchanged now or ever will never be put on the whiteness of a paper. The safest distance lies beyond the horizon where the eye cannot see.

“That’s an unexpected depth to you,” the voice replied, mocking with gentleness. “Regained your depth perception, I see.”

Dazai chuckled, amused by the reminder. Last time they saw each other, he was a Port Mafia executive. Dazai Osamu, the demonic protégé, the one who could and would become the Boss of Port Mafia. All that and he helped someone escape the dark and bloody claws of the Mafia. The cruel delight he felt while watching the chase enfold. The glee of hearing the teeth snapping at one’s heel. The cruelty, the malice, the tender and shameful amusement of it all. All that, and he was  — by the matter of fact —  a turncoat. He aided and abetted an escape of a person who was relentlessly pursued by the mad dogs of the Mafia. Dazai Osamu, the demonic protégé and the darkest future Port Mafia could ever hope for, was twice the betrayer he was branded for.

“Couldn’t do it without a friend,” Osamu replied. Half-joke, half-truth, but all-around tragedy. His hand made a gesture — quite unconscious one — of trying to grab onto something, to hold something in his hand. But, of course, there was nothing but the wind and the dying light of the day. And the words exchanged between them but those are the hardest to capture.

“What else are friends for if not to change our, hm,” there was a decisively placed pause in the middle a of a sentence. An alluring trap for him to jump into but Dazai didn’t. “Perspective, I guess, would be the right word.”

He felt as someone’s head barely touched the back of his. It was only for a second, almost accidental. It wasn’t. He could barely smile at that, the careful distance between two people who were sharing a conversation but not eye contact. Just like a story in a book: half-truth, half-lie, all-around tragedy. But the distance it offered was a guarantee of safety. While Dazai had a lot less to lose in the worst-case scenario, it wasn’t something he would openly admit to saying.

“I’d like to banter and pretend it doesn’t bother me after all those years,” the hazy voice spoke again, quieter this time. “But I have to know, otherwise, I am afraid, the question will eat up from the inside and leave nothing behind, not even bones.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you help me escape?”

The last ray of sunlight was now gone beyond the horizon, finally reaching the safest distance. Dazai didn’t answer right away. The words written in black ink against the darkness of his mind too muddled to be read clearly. The voices are too hazy and distant, coloured and voiced over by his own perception, by the meanings he wants to ascribe to them or take away. There were many reasons. There was no reason whatsoever. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth and salt.

While he was fighting with his mind, trying to read in the darkness and hear amidst the noise, something else was happening behind his back. Something he chose to ignore completely, never to register, never to remember, least he’d try to give any value to it. It would just one of those things forever hidden in the corner of his mind, forgotten and equated to nothing.

When Dazai finally regained his awareness, the first thing he heard was the sound of a cutlery against the plate. Ringing and tempting him to pose a question, to offer something else to speak off. It would be easy to turn away from the answer, to betray once again. And when he finally opened his eyes, there was still no one sitting in front of him. No company except for the person behind him, the hazy voice speaking behind his back. There was still light, reaching him from the safest distance, from beyond the horizon. If only such a moment could last a little longer, stretched out to last just a little bit longer, just like someone’s words…

“To amuse myself,” Dazai spoke evenly. “To see if I could do it without being suspected. And because I wondered if he would be proud.”

“Your friend?”

“Yes.”

“And was he?”

“I never told him, never, hm,” he placed a purposeful pause in the middle of the sentence trying to lure in more questions, to be allowed for once to speak of what he wanted to speak. No one took the bait. No one was there for that. “Got the chance to, I guess, is the right expression.”

“Why?” The question was half-expected, half-feared, and all-around invasive. Just as the cutlery was pulling apart whatever was on the plate —piece by piece — accompanied by the sound of ringing and soft clashing. The voice was pulling apart his memories slowly and utterly benevolent.

“Cowardice…?”

The sound of the cutlery against the plate rang once again. It was more contained and far more elegant in its nature. A lot more purposeful. It was no longer tempting him to ask questions. Something within his perception had already chose a satisfying answer without any given meaning or value. It was but a way to stifle the curiosity and desire, to keep it occupied.

“I see,” the voice said from behind. Tender touch of another person against him designed to look accidental to a curious eye until the design fell apart. And the weight of another’s touch came to rest against his back.

“I never got to thank you,” the voice spoke in a whisper.

Dazai smirked. “I never intended to give it a chance.” An honest confession: the only words that stood boldly against the darkness of his mind. From a safe distance, of course. “I told you to forget about me. To forget what I did.”

“You always have the right to ask, I always have the right to refuse. Isn’t that why human relationships are so complicated? It would be easier to have people do as you please, so easy, in fact, it would be boring. It would be an endless boredom.”

“Isn’t it already?”

“I guess it is,” the voice confirmed gently, too gently. “For you.”

The weight against his back left, leaving strange sense of hollowness instead. Dazai understood that it was but a retreat to a safe distance.

“After all, you knew I would be here.” There was a sigh that followed and not his. The sound just as hollow and meaningless, but he would remember it. And with time he would invest value in this trembling hollow sound or leave it to rust and turn to dust. It was so hollow it could be filled endlessly with meanings, imputed with infinite value.

“It’s bold to come back to Japan, to Yokohama. It hasn’t been that long since I aided you in escaping,” Dazai warned sincerely. It was a foolish affair. And him coming here wasn’t at all putting a safe distance. He should have chased something else today or nothing. He could have gone after the sun, it would be a safer and less foolish endeavour.

“He can do nothing to me,” the voice spoke sternly. “I am unreachable to him now,” the sound of a fork hitting the porcelain plate, cutting a piece, pulling apart. “And he can choke on it.”

Dazai turned his head just to steal a glance at the corner of his eye. Just a little reminder that it’s not his mind playing a twisted game, but life playing an even more cruel game. He couldn’t do it. He broke into a laugh before he could even see anything behind him. Not even a glimpse. Dazai leaned back in his seat until his head came in touch with something and closed his eyes.

“Sometimes I think of that time and I wonder if I simply dreamed of an idiotic nightmare,” the voice continued to lull him deep into thoughts.

“It was an idiotic nightmare. If you don’t want to see it, close your eyes.”

“How can you even say such words, I wonder.”

“You should forget them,” he smirked. It was another moment before he, too, withdrew to a safe distance. A heavy sigh escaped him. Heavy yet somehow hollow. It resonated nothing; it felt like nothingness itself.

“Maybe for a time,” the voice finally gave a reply. Then, Dazai heard a fork placed on the plate for the last time. Then, he heard the chair behind him move. He stood up from his seat. It was time to retreat, to return to everything they did not share and never will.

“I entrust you with my gratitude,” the voice spoke cheerfully behind him, “so, please, don’t forget it, even if it turns bitter or empty.”

Dazai smiled, only nodding in response. He couldn’t know if it was seen or noticed. But it was the only answer he could give. It was a hollow echo of his thoughts, strokes of black ink against the darkness of the mind, muddled and blurred. It could be given meaning and value, infinitely reinvented and lied about, repurposed and recycled, over and over, used and used and wasted. It could turn to nothing at all without leaving anything behind, not even a needle prick of a memory.

And they parted ways, each retreating to the safest distance: beyond the line of the horizon, where no prying eye could see. With the book in his hand, Dazai walked away, stuffing away the memory of such gratitude in the safest place of his mind: a dark and distant corner, where it can turn into anything: something empty, something rusted and bitter, or something infinitely valuable.

[loveau]

You + Me = ? | Wendy

Genre: highschool!au, fluff

Word Count: 2,989

Request: Hi, there! 😁 May I request a high school!AU scenario with Wendy where the reader needs help with math and she becomes the reader’s tutor, then the reader improves in math and they fall in love and all that fluffy stuff?

Summary: While your math grade seems to be falling, it’s not the only thing that does once a pretty math tutor comes in to help you. You can only hope she’s there to catch you like she’s doing for your grade.

You curse at the dumb equations staring mockingly at you from your paper. Stupid algebra, stupid factoring, stupid polynomials. Nothing was sticking in your brain, and, at this point, it was pretty much fried. You bang your head on the desk and groan into the multiple eraser markings sticking on your cheek.

Yeah, you totally shouldn’t have convinced the counselor to let you take that extra elective instead of the math class. The entire year’s worth of not doing math had been both a blessing... and a curse. You sat in a class of mostly sophomores as the only junior taking that algebra course. It stung your pride to sit there staring at a low mark as they seemed to be passing with ease. 

The only other junior in the class was the TA, and she stops by with a concerned look. However, one glance at your half done worksheet (with most of the answers wrong, by the way) she concludes that you’re frustrated and need help.

“Hey,” she calls. At this you put your head up and come face to face with her. “Do you need help with this? I can tutor you after school if you’d like to get help outside of class.”

“Oh my gosh, really, Wendy?! You’re literally an angel!” She smiles at you, only proving further to you that she not only acts like an angel, but she looks very much like one too.

She waves you off dismissively, but the red in her cheeks shows that she appreciates the comment. One look at your paper shows her that you really were in need of the help. No offense, of course, but the factoring you had done so far somehow led you to completely get rid of the variables. While this led to much confusion on her part where to begin, she was amused by your doodles on the page.

“You draw?” You peer down to see what she’s referring to. There’s small little sketches of your favorite characters from some show you were currently watching. A slight flush of embarrassment moves across your cheeks, as if it were a crime to like your shows. However, you just shrug to play it off cool.

“Kind of... I usually do this when I’m bored.” You realize that you’ve just admitted one of the reasons why you are behind in class. Wendy only reassures you with a smile, deciding not to point that out if she caught it at all.

She tries to help you as much as she can before the period’s over. You’re much too distracted by the curve of her bangs over her forehead and wonder how she must have done it. Done what? You know... looking so effortlessly stunning. You’re well aware of how she uses a hair curler in her bangs sometimes. You’ve seen it at lunch a couple times when she’s laughing loudly with her friends, but you could never bring yourself to look away.

About to be caught again, you quickly busy yourself with whatever problem you left off on. Wendy watches you for a couple more moments before deciding that she should start packing up and taking some last minute questions. You’re scribbling down the answers to the next couple of questions and she makes a mental note to check in with you later. In the mean time, she hopes you don’t mistake her number she wrote on the corner of your page for some polynomial without variables.

Luckily you caught it fairly quickly before the school day ended, when you had decided to continue your doodling on a previous sheet. And just like that, you were meeting Wendy after school to go over your homework that you had completed in class. Nerves began building up inside of you. Both at the idea of seeing Wendy again, but also... her relation to your math class reminded you of an upcoming test. As well as your low grade. It wasn’t that bad per se, but it wasn’t exactly ideal. You were bordering from a C+ to a B- and you knew you’d be in for it if your parents saw that as a final grade. 

Your leg bounces as you wait by one of the lunch tables, and it distracts you so much that you miss the text from Wendy that she’s on her way and should only be another minute. By the time you’ve formulated your runaway plan and to make sure your FBI agent can’t track you down when you fail your next test, Wendy arrives with a chipper smile and taking a seat right next to you. Immediately her smiles drops at your worried face.

“Hey, are you alright? We don’t have to be meeting up right now if you don’t want to.”

“No! You’re fine.” Her concerned eyes don’t stop trying to figure out what’s eating you until it clicks.

“You’re worried about next week’s test, right?” You nod and Wendy pats your shoulder. However, she doesn’t take her hand away and instead squeezes your shoulder so that you feel the warmth through your shirt. You’re not that surprised to find that warmth has spread all throughout your body as well. “I can totally help you with that! I often see you looking frustrated in class but didn’t want to pester you. I figured today wouldn’t hurt.”

You shake your head and find that you were grateful she stepped up today. You could never with how preoccupied you were with trying to reteach yourself concepts as well as her being almost intimidatingly pretty. If it wasn’t obvious, your crush on her really made you freeze up. You remember developing your crush on her in your sophomore year, when the two of you shared a literature class together. The two of you got to interact some, but not much. What stood out to you was the reenactment of Romeo and Juliet where she played Romeo and you read the part of Juliet. Her character building and voice somehow made you feel as if you were really Juliet, easily swooning by her love confessions. You really began to daydream that they were real... and in modern english.

“If I bomb this next test, then I’m easily set to get a solid C instead of a C+. I have almost an 81 in the class, but just barely.”

Wendy hums and fixes her ponytail to stall while she thinks. Suddenly she brightens up and snaps her fingers. “Have you thought about doing the extra credit? It could definitely bring your grade up to an 85 at least! It can act as a safety net in case you do poorly on the test, but I won’t let that happen!”

“How so?” She takes your hands into hers and looks you earnestly in the eyes.

“Starting today, I will tutor you everyday to make sure you feel prepared and confident for the test. It doesn’t have to be just after school either. We can meet at lunch, during class, before school, or any time we can work it out. I promise you I will be there for you so that you don’t fail.” Your heart beats a little quicker at her promise, but the intensity also adds butterflies to your stomach. You can only nod in response and realize you’ve been holding your breath by the time she turns around to get some papers out. “Here, I keep these on me in case anyone approaches me outside of class for help. These are some of the extra credit sheets that’ll help you. They also pertain to the test so it’s a double whammy.”

She helps you get started on the sheets, telling you they’re honestly easy points to boost your grade. They really are with how much time Wendy spends talking you through the concept and making sure you’re not iffy on a problem. It’s like this the rest of the week. However, you also realize she’s been super affectionate once you get a problem right or giving herself whatever excuse to get as close as possible.

Sometimes her pencil might roll away from her as you work and she allows it to roll far enough so that it hits you. She either brushes her fingers against your hand or arm or she purposely touches her fingers loosely against yours if you happen to pick it up before she does. Some comments or corrections she makes on your paper also come in the form of hearts. It’s hard for you to keep your cool when she is being playfully flirty with you, but it also saddens you that it’ll most likely no longer happen once the week is over and you’ve taken your test.

“Here,” she interrupts during your last session on Friday. The two of you are sitting together at lunch and she decides to write down some problems for you to practice.

“Wendy, this is basic math. I did this in, like, second grade.”

“I just want to warm up your brain. Go ahead!” You look back down at the 2+2 written on the paper. Once you write down a hesitant 4, Wendy adds more simple math problems to your paper. The lunch bell rings signaling that you get to your next class. “Make sure to do the last one! I’ll see you next Monday on test day. Oh! And make sure to text me on the weekend if you have any questions.”

You’re too busy packing up to see what she’s written on your paper, but you assume it was something like 1+1. You figure that she must be doing this to reassure you and give you a slight break since all you’ve been doing is working on factoring for the past couple of days. By the time you get into your history class, a friend of yours points to the paper on the top of your notebook.

“How’s it going with Miss-I’m-too-pretty-to-make-you-function?”

“Shut up, it’s not like I’ll be seeing her after the test. She’s just tutoring me.”

“But you said the touches-”

“I’m overthinking it. It’s fine.” They roll their eyes at your dismissiveness. You’d been trying to swallow down the crush over the past couple of days, but Wendy honestly made it too hard. Her subtle touches and words of encouragement did nothing but make you hopeful. It also didn’t help that her bright smile plagued your mind whenever you went home and you were... looking forward to going to your math class.

“Hey, I think you’re overthinking the part where you think you have no chance.”

“That’s because I don’t.” They tap your paper and say otherwise. You’re unable to question them since they turn away to focus on the teacher beginning the lesson. You try to focus on the material about some revolution somewhere, but you can only focus on running through equations, the quadratic formula, perfect squares, and Wendy in your mind.

She stays on your mind the entire weekend as well, and you’re worried about the material even though you’ve run through it so many times you can practically do it in your sleep. On test day, you’re so focused on your work that you can’t even bring yourself to look at Wendy in fear of all your work together going to waste or seeing her be disappointed. But her quick squeeze of your hand as she passes by while handing out the tests lets you know that she’s rooting for you. She doesn’t mention the last problem she wrote down for you on that Friday. You don’t mention it either because you forgot.

It feels like time flies by so quickly, and you practically run up to the front desk to turn in your test. You’re unsure how to feel about it and wring your hands nervously. Wendy gives you a thumbs up with a determined look while mouthing “You did it. You made it through.” The gleam in her eyes sets your heart fluttering with all the confidence she has in you. It makes you disappointed that soon the two of you would part ways just like you had after the brief interaction during your Romeo and Juliet reading. However, Wendy makes sure to continuously check in with you about the material of the test to see what you thought of it. 

The day you get your test back, Wendy looks just as nervous as you. It’s been only two days since the test, and your teacher has graded the test faster than normal. You look at Wendy while your hands are balled up into fists on the top of your desk. She’s biting her lip and you can she her feet are kicking at the floor in anticipation. It looks like she’s running while sitting, and you wish you could do just that. Run. The teacher has her pass the tests back while they begin writing up some commonly missed questions. Before they could, they call for Wendy’s attention right before she reached your row of desks.

“Wendy, could you pass me one of the tests? I can’t find my answer key.” She nods and immediately hands one of the tests over. Once she’s finished passing out the tests you realize whose test is up with the teacher. Ah, how fickle fate seems to be with you. Wendy realizes that she’s passed your test up when she looks over at you and your anxious form trying your best to peer at the front of the paper by the board. She hadn’t seen your score either, which makes her just as anxious as you. From where you were, you couldn’t figure out what red marks meant what on your test.

The rest of the period was spent with you writing down all the right answers on your test just in case you got something wrong and you could figure out why, hopefully with Wendy’s help. Throughout the class, the two of you had been communicating with nervous looks while trying to put each other at ease at the same time. It didn’t work for both of you since you had started biting your nails and she was picking at threads of her sweater. You absolutely hate that the test review spent the entire period. Especially the fact that the teacher asked to see you when the class ended. Dread fills you when you hear the bell ring. Your footsteps seem heavier as you walk up to the front desk.

Wendy wanted to hang back, she really did, but she knew that it’d be better to respect your privacy and head out with the students. She waits for you to come out and you find her tapping her foot to a song in the middle of the hall. The second you spot her you squeal and throw your arms around her.

“Oh my gosh, Wendy!”

“What’d you get? How did you do? Are you okay? I’m so nervous, I didn’t even know it was your test!”

You shake your head and show her the test. You got nearly full marks, some rounding errors or accidentally using the wrong amount of sigfigs cost you a couple points, but not enough to bring it lower than an A.

“I can’t believe you practically saved my grade!” You’re jumping now and she’s still in your arms. It’s not a problem since she’s also jumping along with you with a large smile on her face. You pull away with a frown.

“What’s wrong now? Did your grade not rise enough to where you thought it was?” There’s panic in her voice and you’re quick to deny her question, but a pout remains on your lips.

“I won’t get to hang out with you anymore since I won’t need any more tutoring...” Wendy pauses for a second and looks as if she’s trying to find something in your eyes.

“... Did you see the last problem I gave you on Friday?” You think back on it and return her questioning gaze.

“You gave me basic addition. Are you telling me I need to work on what I learned in elementary school?” She shakes her head quickly and asks if you still have the paper, to which you nod your head since you haven’t cleaned your binder yet. She has you take it out and you’re about to tell her you’re not that bad at math until you see the problem she wrote.

Underneath the 2+2, 4+4, 3+7, and 1+9...

You + Me = ?

You look up at her and she smiles, but it’s wavering. She’s nervous about your reaction, but she’s somewhat relieved. She thought you had seen it and decided to ignore it, thinking she was weird or that you were trying not to be mean by rejecting that.

“What... Wendy, does this mean what I think it does?�� Wendy puts on an air of fake confidence and takes a pencil out.

“Well, it’s simple really. You, that’s you, plus me, Wendy, equals...” She trails off and begins to write on the paper. A little drawing of a heart takes place at the end of the equation and you can only look at her in shock. She decides that it’s now or never to explain what it meant. “I was just... too nervous to approach you since I didn’t want to scare you away thinking I was there to bug you about getting help. I thought you were really cute at the beginning of the year, and after I finally got to talk to you I started developing a crush... I really worked the courage up to write that.”

You look back down at the heart and can’t help but smile at her. Wendy smiles hesitantly in confusion. 

“You know, since it took me that long to solve such a simple problem... I think you’ll have to continue tutoring me. Why don’t we set up another study date to work on it!” 

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 30: All That Knowledge And No Experience

[As y’all can probably tell from the lack of original posts, I’ve been pretty blocked with this chapter. There’s other parts of the story that I have planned out and really want to get to already, so this just feels like writing filler even though I love focusing on Anaïs’ interactions with all the residents. Sorry if it’s not as interesting T_T but good, juicy shit is coming soon, I promise!]

“Anaïs, wait.” Before I can follow Napoleon off the carriage, Isaac grips my wrist to stop me. I turn to him, confused, and he silently reaches up to adjust the velvet choker around my neck. “That’s better,” he says, blushing slightly. “The bruise was showing.”

“Oh. Thank you,” I smile.

Napoleon offers his hand to help me step down onto the cobbled street. I quickly let go and light myself a cigarillo before taking hold of his arm again, letting him guide me down the road, Isaac close behind us.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” I remind them, earning a chuckle from Napoleon.

“You’ll see.”

I become absorbed by a patient silence, quietly smoking as we walk. By the time we come to a stop in the middle of a square, I have already put out my cigarillo. A group of children are gathered by the fountain. I wonder what they’re playing.

To my surprise, Isaac approaches them. A little girl’s face lights up as she rushes to hug him, causing a shy smile to grow on his face, and the rest of the children quickly stop what they are doing and focus their attention on my companions.

“Bonjour, everyone!” Napoleon announces, only for the children to greet him in unison. “Let’s see, who’s missing... Has anyone seen Mathieu?”

“He fell off a tree and sprained his ankle!” a boy yells his reply from the back of the group. Most of them have sat down on the floor, facing towards us, expectantly.

“Oh, no! If you visit him, André, tell him I hope he gets better soon,” Napoleon sighs. He then claps once, indicating the start of what I now think is a lesson of some sort. “Alright, gamins, before we start, I would like to introduce you to our friend. Say hello to Anaïs, everyone!” The children oblige, yelling out a poorly coordinated chorus of ‘bonjours’ as Napoleon gently nudges me in front of him. I wave my hand at them with a chuckle. “She is a scientist, like Isaac.”

I open my mouth to correct him, but Isaac is already ahead of me.

“Physics and chemistry are two entirely different disciplines, you should know that by now,” he lightly scolds the soldier before turning to the ‘audience’. “So yes, she is a scientist, but we focus on separate fields. Any questions?”

“Me! Me!” The little girl that hugged Napoleon waves her hand in the air enthusiastically, and Isaac nods, signalling her to speak. “Hello mademoiselle Anaïs, my name is Marie and I would like to know what is ‘chimistry’,” she rambles quickly, causing me to laugh at her cuteness.

“Well, Marie...” I begin to answer, smiling. I make sure to talk louder so the rest of the group can hear. “Chemistry is like... a recipe for the world. Everything around us is made of tiny little particles that are too small for us to see. There are different types of them, and they combine to make... well, everything. Including ourselves,” I explain, gesturing vaguely at my surroundings. “I study how those different particles react with each other to make new things, and try to find combinations that work well together, that are stable. Does that make sense?” I ask. The students nod.

“What is ‘stable’?” an older boy, about 12 or so, chimes in. I look at Napoleon, and he smiles at me approvingly.

“That’s a very good question... What’s your name?”

“Pierre,” he answers.

“Alright, Pierre. Imagine I’m baking a cake. What would happen if I forgot to put eggs in the batter?” I start, gaining confidence. This is easy.

“It would... fall apart?”

“Correct! The ingredients don’t work well without the egg to keep it all together. The egg makes it stable, so it stays as it is instead of all the different parts of the cake trying to separate. Now, what if I got the eggs right, but I used sand instead of flour?” I continue, chuckling at the disgusted noises from the younger kids. “That would be... I don’t know what that would be, but certainly not a cake!” They laugh along with me. I am not exactly comfortable with teaching, but at least they think I’m funny. “Do you all see what I mean? If I changed one ingredient in the mix, the result would be a completely different thing. If I stirred them in the wrong order, or if I baked it all at the wrong temperature for the wrong amount of time, the result would no longer be a cake. Maybe something resembling a cake, but it would not have all the qualities of one.”

I observe the crowd of children for a few seconds, but no further questions seem to pop up, so I let Napoleon take over as I go sit on the edge of the fountain. It’s taller than the one in the mansion’s garden, and I struggle a little to climb on the stone surface while keeping my dress out of the water. I wobble briefly, convinced that I am about to fall, but ultimately manage to find my balance and get comfortable.

As Isaac and Napoleon begin to divide the students in two groups, he turns to me, questioningly. I think he wants me to join them.

“Oh, I don’t have anything prepared, Napo,” I say, flustered. “Can’t teach if I’m not ready. Besides, I want to watch you two,” I smile from my seat. “What you’re doing with these kids is great... I’m sure they’ll thank you for it in the future.”

Although neither of them really explained the situation, then did not have to. Judging by the children’s clothes, they were probably not privileged enough to afford an education. And then, there’s the fact that we’ve bee teaching class in the town square, as opposed to, you know, an actual school. It’s rewarding charity work, and I can see why they do it. I, however, have no idea how to teach, and I don’t want to ruin the lessons they had planned for the day.

Napoleon teaches history to his half of the group. He tells it like a tale, his charm and flair inevitably captivating the attention of the children. They will surely remember every word he says if he keeps making it that interesting. Meanwhile, Isaac slowly makes his way through each individual student, correcting their equations and taking his time to explain everything they have trouble with. He works patiently, aware of each child’s capacity, and gently guides them towards the correct answer without giving it away. It’s actually quite sweet.

I enjoy watching them until the bell of a nearby church tolls, and I count the chimes. Time to go. I approach Isaac to tell him, as he is the one closest to me, and he excuses himself to the children, pulling me aside. Napoleon sees and does the same before joining us.

“Thank you for today, it was lovely to see this side of you two,” I explain with a smile. “But I have to leave now. Don’t wanna be late for the play.”

“Be careful, nunuche,” Napoleon tells me, growing serious. I wave him off, rolling my eyes.

“Seriously, I’ll be fine!” I protest, annoyed, before turning to Isaac. “All good?” I tilt my head up so he can see my neck and point at the velvet ribbon tied around the bruises. He takes a look.

“All good,” he repeats. “Have fun at the theatre.”

“Thanks.”

I stand on my toes to kiss both their cheeks, like I usually do, and wave at the children as I walk away from the group. I make my way into a narrow street, following the map I brought with me. This time, le Comte gave me a purse along with the dress and choker, and it has proven to be very useful. No more storing items in my stockings, at least. 

A carriage passes by me and abruptly stops. Speak of the devil, it is le Comte’s voice I hear calling out to me from inside.

“Need a ride, ma chérie?” he offers, opening the door.

“Thanks, comte, but I prefer to walk. I haven’t really done much since, you know,” I explain, pointing at my neck, “so I appreciate the exercise.”

He retreats back to say something to the driver, but he speaks to quickly for me to catch it. He then proceeds to step out of the carriage fully before it drives off without him.

“Allow me to accompany you, Anaïs,” he smiles, offering his arm. “I, too, was invited to the opening.” 

“Great, we get to actually spend time together this time,” I reply, returning the smile, and hold on to his arm. He chuckles.

The conversation continues where we left off three days ago in his study. Le Comte is extremely charming, almost supernaturally so. I had forgotten that he is supernatural, but it no longer bothers me. I think it never really did.

We are about halfway to the theatre when he leans down and whispers in my ear without stopping.

“We’re being followed.” 

I turn around to shoot a discreet glance behind me, and sure enough, a man I saw near the square is walking a few paces behind us. I barely noticed him then, but now that I am paying attention, I recognize him from the coffee house. Shit.

We are crossing the same part of the city. That’s probably how he found me. Regardless, I know this neighbourhood already, and I can take advantage of that. I pull le Comte into an alleyway and press myself against the wall. For a moment I think we’ve lost the man, but my breath of relief gets stuck in my throat when I hear his footsteps approaching once again.

“Kiss me,” I command, pulling on le Comte’s lapel to force him closer.

“Pardon?”

“No time to explain, just do it.” He stares at me, confusion glimmering in the gold of his eyes. “Dude, just kiss me, quickly!” I whisper urgently. He hesitantly meets my lips with his and puts his arms on either side of me to lean on the wall as I push him against me, my hand on the back of his neck.

The kiss is chaste, a fact obscured by the deceivingly passionate position we are in. I keep my eyes open throughout, enough to see the man from the coffee house peek into the alleyway and then leave, uttering a curse at the prospect of having lost sight of me. It isn’t until his footsteps fade away completely that I turn my face away from le Comte, a sigh of relief managing to escape my lips this time.

“Sorry about that,” I breathe out. “I’m the one he was after.”

“Is he the man Sebastian told me about? Is he giving you any more trouble?” he asks, worried.

“You mean with the coffee? Yeah, that’s him.” I thought he would have forgotten me after a few weeks, but it turns out that man is as bitter as the drinks he scams people into paying.

“You do know I could have fought him, don’t you? He is no match for a pureblood vampire, after all,” le Comte says, looking in the direction of the main street. “Nobody threatens my guests. That scoundrel needs to be taught a lesson-”

“You will do no such thing,” I interrupt him, interlocking my fingers with his before he can get away. “Arthur already punched him in the face and it only made things worse. Besides, we have somewhere to be. Don’t want your shirt to get wringkled or something.”

“You are right,” he chuckles. “Ma chérie, always so thoughtful. Although if you see that man again, do not hesitate to let me know. I will handle it,” he assures me, regaining his serious expression. The look in his eyes is threatening, but not towards me. I have never seen him like that, even though he is certainly protective of me. That he has proven since the day we met.

“Okay,” I nod, making eye contact so he can see I understood. I begin walking out of the alleyway and gently pull him along, still grasping his hand. “Now let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

[artbymesa]

Unforeseen Consequences

Admiral ZEX, The Captain, Dax

Suggestive themes but no “details”. (Not my kind of writing lol)

I’m really. not sure why my brain fixated on writing this. I was introduced to Star Control and Admiral ZEX by @zarla-s​ (hopefully this tag isn’t bothersome?). I was in the process of introducing him to some friends and it spurred the thought: Would ZEX even expect a human to respond positively to his advances? He’s probably gotten pretty articulate with deflecting rejection and criticism and judgement, but what if that wasn’t the case for once? How well would he handle it?

I apologize for however out of character or Not Canon this may be, but it was a thought that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it down. And then after I started it, it got away from me. Its been a long, long time since I’ve wrote a fanfic whoo boy

I think I wrote this with the presumption of how it would take place if you could romance him in the game, and the consequences (for everyone) of that XD

“The scope of our relationship can grow as close as you wish.” Zex said with a foreign body language of bravado.

The Captain regarded him for a moment before leaning forward into the Admiral’s personal space, a grin pulling at the corner of their lips. “Oh? Close…how~….?”

Zex sputtered, caught off guard and overwhelmed by the human’s sudden, unexpected close proximity. A human had never so much as dared to tread within a couple feet of him, much less ever enough to feel their breath. He had grown rather bold with this certainty. Perhaps a measure of that was his own doing–  intentionally or not, his forthright tendencies wedging itself in between any opportunity. Being turned away, shrugged off or kept at a distance was the standard order of things. It was easy. It was predictable. And it had been so long, he never really expected that standard to be challenged. Needless to say, this threw him off.

Even still, he may have been a hopeless romantic, but he was no fool. He was aware of what the human stood to gain by winning him over. Manipulating him just to secure his military genius was low– but with a suspicious lack of human behavior like this ever before– not unheard of. He regained a brittle amount of composure, steeling over his words to obscure it. “Captain. If you intend to taunt me please do so in the way I am accustomed. I’ve hardened to the ridicule of my countrymen but faking interest in me is a different manner of cruel. If all you wish is for an alliance I am happy to oblige without the exploitation of my…weakness.”

The Captain challenged his words and moved a little closer, resting a relaxed arm on the admiral’s desk and shrugged. “I’m not faking, Zex.”

The admiral stared at it, then up at the captain when they said his name informally. Anyone else he may have corrected, but there was a warmth to it from the human that he so badly wanted to indulge. He had to confess, he had fantasized about similar circumstances and how he would conduct himself, but now that it was actual happening, he froze. He was usually so articulate but words escaped him, he was usually so well composed but this human had a way with disrupting it like a house of cards. As much as it currently worked against him, it was new to him. Exciting.

Reality began to sink in when the human didn’t recoil their appendage away, instead looked at him expectantly for a response. The gesture wasn’t an error. It was intentional. Even despite their lack of tendrils, humans had such a way with expressing emotion. It was one of the things he loved most about them. This one was a challenge to read, but everything he could gather from them seemed genuine. Which meant…

He struggled for a moment, realizing the position he had put himself in before laughing nervously. “Would you look at this? The first time a human reciprocates interest and even I succumb to a measure of my people’s distrust. You must forgive me, Captain. It has been a long time…” The admiral seemed to fight with some kind of internal conflict for a moment before the human settled it for him.

They reached out, dexterous fingers closing over his arm tendril in a comforting gesture. Their hand was warm, far warmer to the touch than he anticipated.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Before the admiral could speak, the human was standing. And before he could ask if he had done something wrong, they were on his side of the desk.

A lot of things began to happen at once, and he opposed none of them.

-

“Zex?” The human asked, pulling on their robes not a moment before the admiral could take in one last look at their beautifully crafted anatomy akin to a living, breathing sculpture. They truly were a unique work of art forged from the galaxy and experiencing them so up close was a privilege.  The captain’s question was what pulled him out of his trance.

“Mmm?”The human studied the quiet planet outside from the window. Pensive observation stirred a thought that pricked the edge of their brow. They had such a world of emotion hidden behind subtle changes in their features. But interpretation was a different story.

“How much do you actually know about humans?”

It was a good thing VUX couldn’t blush.

“Admittedly, Captain, much more now than I did an hour ago.”

The human gave a kind but cheeky grin, looking down as if it helped them compose their words differently. Their “smile” as it were, had been toothy and startling when he first witnessed it. It contradicted what he otherwise should have interpreted as some kind of feral threat display. This was so very different. It was tender and warm, and it melted a part of him he didn’t know existed. Since then, he had been compelled to incite it as often as he could. They seemed to respond best with his banter and advances, which was a pleasure in and of its own.

“I’m serious. Be honest.”

The admiral thought for a moment.

“I know that your people are beautiful. And very clever. And resourceful. I know you are a uniquely hardy species. I’ve heard the stories of your people surviving conditions that would have easily killed others by shock alone. As I’m sure you know by now, my countrymen do not share my appreciation. They think you grotesque.”

“What else have they said about us?”

“They may have mentioned that you are stubborn. And reckless.”

“Do you believe them?”

“….I am beginning to consider it.”

“Perhaps you should.”

There was a pause.

“Why do you ask me this now?”

The Captain was quiet momentarily, but returned to Zex. Perhaps it was touch starvation, but he hadn’t realized how much he craved it until the captain returned to settling a hand against what equated to his own. They didn’t make eye contact just yet.

“The Ur Quan enslaved my people. What’s left of them.”

“Oh. Oh, dear. I was not aware. I am sorry, perhaps I’ve lived in isolation longer than I thought. I suppose that explains the lack of human visitors.” The gears began to turn. “But you arrived here in an armed starship. You weren’t given clearance to leave either, were you? You cannot be planning what I think you are planning. Captain, resisting the Ur Quan is madness.”

“And my visit here is a direct violation to your people’s alliance with the Ur Quan. I suppose if nothing else, reputation is accurate.” The human sighed. “You mentioned an alliance but I can’t expect that of you. You would be labeled a traitor. Your people already have enough reason to kill you without my interference as it is.”

“I am not attached to this planet, Captain. Nor interaction with my people, unfortunately.”

“If you think VUX are bigoted, you’ve not met enough humans.”

“How do you mean?”

“My peoples’ entire history is built on conflict and persecution. Our biggest challenge has always been coexisting with eachother. It’s a harsh lense to see it through, but that in mind it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to come with me either. Even if we do win the war, your help or not, life on Earth afterward would never be peaceful. They’ve done far more to their own people over far less. They’d tear you apart.”

“You’re suggesting this shouldn’t last.”

“I’m suggesting that we consider everything involved before this gets complicated.”

The admiral was quiet for a moment in thought. The human brought up a lot of good points, much to his displeasure. But that wasn’t going to deter him so easily.

“While I must commend the forethought, you are forgetting that tactical improvisation in dangerous situations is my specialty. Besides, this planet has always been more of a prison than a place of retirement—no matter how they attempted to sell it me. I saw through it. The whole reason I am here, Captain, is because I refused to be someone I am not. I can assure you. I would rather pursue an opportunity for a life worth living and the one that I want, however that is defined, than to live out my days rotting on this planet in fear. It would simply go against everything I stand for. I would join you on your travels… if you’d have me.”

The human sighed realizing he likely wasn’t going to let it go— not after making a conclusion like that. Not that they truly wanted to refuse him anyway.

That smile returned—quieter, more subtle this time. Almost somber. They reached over to the side of his face and stroked with the back of their hand. His eye closed, leaning into the touch with some measure of tension fading from his posture.

“I suppose it makes it easier when we’re not investing in another bunk on board.” The human teased. “And after all this is over, Alpha Cerenkov I can’t be the only one of its kind in the galaxy.”

The admiral’s shoulders relaxed, and an arm curled around the captain’s.

“We have some time to prepare.  My countrymen visit occasionally to exchange supplies and resources but they’ve been scarce lately and I do not think they know you are here. Fortunately the others that live here permanently are—“

“Sir, I didn’t hear the human’s departure and it’s been awfully quiet, are you o-.OHMY-“ After entering through the door, Dax dropped and shattered what seemed to previously be some kind of beverage he was holding before scrambling to shield his eye.

“Dax!? Have you no sense to knock?!”

“I did NOT see what I think I just saw.“ He nearly pleaded. "Tell me that isn’t what’s going on here. Admiral, I swear to–”

“Who is—?“

“My sub commander.” Zex retrieved and put on a robe of his own irritably before standing. “Who very rudely barged in unannounced, I might add.”

Dax carefully peeked open his eye, as if unsure if it was alright to look. “Excuse me sir, but the very last thing I expected to walk in on was—…“ Something like a grimace contorted Dax’s features.

“I do not need your approval, Dax. Besides, I thought you more open-minded than this.”

“So this is what I think it is. You have to be joking.” He finally looked, though now had a somewhat exasperated and heated posture. “Sure, maybe I don’t hate humans but to be involving yourself with—…“ his eye swiveled from the bed to the human, then back to Zex with a more bitter grimace. “What will the council think?”

“The council will not think anything if they don’t hear of it.”

"With all due respect sir, this– this had gone way too far. This is going to get you killed!”

“Mind. Your. Place. Dax.”

The sub commander’s posture recoiled slightly. His superior may have been reckless, blinded, mad and a hedonist, but he was also well respected and rightly earned it. Dax was as loyal as they came, even if the admiral absolutely exhausted him at times. This was easily in the top three of those.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I understand the council put you here to pursue your…‘lifestyle’–.”

“That’s what I’m doing, aren’t I?”

Dax laughed, uneasy. “Sure, but I highly doubt they expected it possible for you to ever actually–”

Zex sighed stubbornly and looked off, the sub commander’s words stinging a bit. It gave Dax pause to reword, but Zex spoke before he could.

“Please excuse me, captain. I’ll take care of this.”

The two of them left the room and shut the door behind them.

“Sir…even if they don’t find out which they obviously will, how do you expect to keep this up? If this gets back to our home planet they’ll make an example of you. They’ve been placated this long knowing you’re not influencing the public but as soon as it starts to get out of their hands it could cause an uprising. How long has this been going on?”

“If you must pry, I’ve spoken with them on recent occasions but this was the first time we–”

“Eugh. No. Stop. That’s enough.” He winced and interrupted. “So you’re telling me you don’t even know this human very well. You don’t know if they have an ulterior motive for all of this.”

“Actually, Dax, the human initially agreed with you. They were ready to leave for the sake of my safety and that would have been that. But I was who convinced them otherwise. They wouldn’t have initiated what they did or gone as far as they did if their intentions were to take advantage of me. If you were violently repulsed by the very appearance of an alien, don’t you think having sex with them would be a last resort? ”

“Sir, please—“Dax cringed, waving his arms to stop him but Zex continued.

“And if you must insist on doing this now—“ He huffed and straightened himself. “I’ve decided to join them. I’m leaving Alpha Cerenkov. The human plans to resist the Ur Quan.”

“Have you gone completely mad?! What about the fleet? I hope you realize the position you’re putting them in if they question them. If they question me. They’ll suspect us traitors. I didn’t swear an oath to your loyalty with the intention of breaking it. If I refuse to give them what they want…”

“If you and the rest of the fleet do not intend to join us, then perhaps the less you know the better.” The admiral turned back to the door, but Dax stopped him. There was a pause.

“I hope you’re sure about this…”

“There are few things I’ve been surer of.”

Dax sighed deeply.

“Just…wait. Don’t do anything reckless. I’ll talk with the fleet.”

[thelastmemeera]

Stop Freaking Out About Gödel: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Incompleteness Theorems

So when I was in college, I noticed something a bit concerning: a rather large portion of people involved in hard sciences were totally unfamiliar with even basic philosophy of science. For example, when I talked to other science majors I discovered that the majority of them seemingly didn’t know the difference between a theory and a law. The most frequent definition I got was that theories are still somewhat uncertain, whereas laws have been proven to be true and are more or less never wrong. This is incorrect – first of all, a scientific law can absolutely be wrong. Throughout history, even well-established scientific laws often end up being modified or thrown out entirely as new evidence comes to light. For instance, it turns out Newton’s Laws of Motion are only accurate for large objects moving slowly; things that are extremely small or moving close to the speed of light behave by entirely different rules. The actual difference between a theory and a law is that a law has to be a concise description of how something in nature behaves that can usually be stated in full in one or two sentences, or more ideally an equation. For example, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that the entropy of an isolated system never decreases, or simply ∆S≥0. A theory, on the other hand, is an interconnected collection of ideas that attempts to explain a natural phenomenon or range of phenomena, and will make multiple falsifiable predictions. It’s possible for a scientist to devote their entire lives to improving humanity’s understanding of a single scientific theory – biology’s theory of evolution is a good example.

Now at this point you might be saying “So what? You’re just nitpicking at semantics.” I would argue that misunderstanding the theory/law distinction betrays a more fundamental lack of grasp on the scientific method. Once we start conceptualizing certain ideas, even implicitly, as infallible or otherwise not worth questioning anymore, we start veering away from the realm of science and into the realm of dogma. I have a strong suspicion that a lot of the weird STEM elitism that’s so prevalent these days is a result of widespread illiteracy as to what science itself is at a basic level – otherwise it would become obvious how ultimately inseparable hard science is from soft science, from philosophy, from art. I could go on about this for ten more pages but this isn’t really the topic I want to talk about right now. My essential point is that it’s very easy for people who are otherwise highly intelligent and highly competent in their field to lack proper understanding of its underlying philosophy.

The reason I bring this up is because I am about to argue that almost everyone is interpreting Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems wildly inaccurately. More specifically, I’m aiming to demonstrate that the idea that a mathematical conjecture can be “true but unprovable” is tautologically false. This is a misconception that stems from confusion over what constitutes mathematical truth – which is actually a philosophy problem, not a math problem. If you want to be able to say anything at all about truth or falsehood in this context, first you’re going to need a coherent and precise definition for mathematics itself.

Let’s start by trying to answer a narrower question: what are numbers? In what manner can numbers be said to exist? Can you look at a number? Can you touch a number? I can draw the numeral “4” on a sheet of paper, but that’s not really the number four, it’s just an arbitrary symbol we chose to represent it. If tomorrow everyone decided that we were going to switch the numerals for four and five (such that “5” now means four and vice versa), nothing about how math works would change, it would just look slightly different on paper. So then a number definitely isn’t a physical object like a proton or a chair or a planet. Now at this point you could argue that perhaps numbers are a property that things in the real world can have – for example, if an H+ ion has a positive electric charge, most people would agree that its charge is something that that exists in the physical world despite the fact that it can’t exist independently from the ion. Analogously, you can count a group of apples and always get the same results; if there are four apples then there are four apples. You can even use arithmetic to make accurate predictions about how many apples there will be if you add more, remove some, or divide them into groups. So you could claim: therefore, numbers must be real i.e. they must somehow exist in the universe independent of human thought.

However, this line of argument fails pretty quickly once you consider the fact that the all the rules of arithmetic change relative to how you happen to be looking at the problem. For instance, suppose you’re trying to figure out how many people you can fit in an elevator. You’re inevitably going to end up using the natural numbers – we can all reasonably agree you can’t have a fraction of a person (you could cut a human being in half, but they would cease to meaningfully be a person at this point). You decide you can cram about eight people in before running out of room, but then realize you forgot to consider the elevator’s weight capacity. If it can safely lift about two tons, then you’re also going to have to measure the combined weight of everything it’s carrying in terms of fractions of tons. Suddenly the math you have to use changes from discrete to continuous, which is a really important difference; there’s no way to have between one and two people, but you can easily measure a weight between one and two tons (say 1.5 tons), and then if you want you theorize a possible weight that’s between one and the weight you just measured (say 1.25 tons), and so on and so on indefinitely. This is all fairly straightforward, but it presents a significant problem if you want to contend that these numbers exist independently of human cognition. Which set of rules is correct? If numbers objectively exist then it logically must follow that any given number either can be divided into arbitrarily smaller parts, or cannot be. Do negative numbers really exist? As far as we’re aware it’s impossible for an object to have negative mass, and you certainly can’t have a negative number of people. Do complex numbers exist?

Another problem: the number we get when we determine the mass of a given object will be different depending on what units of measure we’re using. If we switch from using kilograms to pound-masses, none of the physical properties of the object have changed, but we’re now measuring completely different numbers. This is because mass is an objective physical property, but numbers are simply a system we’ve come up with to help us describe this. An object inherently has mass, but does not inherently have two-ness or four-ness or the like. Mathematics, then, is not an objective reality but merely a human invention we sometimes use to describe objective reality, somewhat conceptually akin to a natural language like English or Mandarin. Once we grasp this, it becomes possible to define math in a precise and consistent matter (and hence mathematical truth). All mathematical systems can be ultimately be characterized in terms of sets of symbols, axioms, and rules of inference. Mathematics, therefore, is simply the study of axiomatic systems.

In this context, Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems are less “existential crisis inducing mind-screw” and more “fairly intuitive idea that perhaps should have been obvious in retrospect.” The second incompleteness theorem can be approximately stated as: “for any consistent system F within which a certain amount of elementary arithmetic can be carried out, the consistency of F cannot be proved in F itself.” How could any system of axioms conceivably prove itself consistent? By the logical principle of explosion, we know that in any inconsistent system we can prove literally any proposition that the system can express, meaning an inconsistent system would necessarily be able to prove itself consistent according to its own rules. Therefore, it would be impossible for us to distinguish a hypothetical consistent math system that could somehow prove its own consistency versus an inconsistent system that could prove its own consistency due to some internal contradiction we haven’t yet discovered.

The first theorem states, roughly: “Any consistent formal system F within which a certain amount of elementary arithmetic can be carried out is incomplete; i.e., there are statements of the language of F which can neither be proved nor disproved in F.” Remember, math isn’t “about” anything, it’s a series of games in which you manipulate strings of symbols according to a set of made up rules. No axiomatic system is fundamentally any more real than any other; some of these systems we study because they help us describe things in the real world, some of these systems we study because they have interesting properties, and some of them we don’t study because they’re neither useful nor interesting (such as systems that have been proven to be inconsistent), but ultimately what determines what kind of math is used or not is simple pragmatism. Thus, the only meaningful way to define mathematical truth is such that a statement is true within the context of a given math system if and only if it can be proven with the axioms provided by said system. The idea that a proposition could be “true but unprovable” is equivalent to saying that a statement simultaneously both can be proven and cannot be proven. A mathematical theorem is just a string of symbols; if you can produce this string within a given formal system then it is true, if you can produce its negation then it is false, and if you can neither produce the string nor its negation then it is undecidable i.e. independent of the axiomatic system you’re currently using. The first incompleteness theorem demonstrates that all relevant formal mathematical systems will necessarily contain such undecidable statements, but we should no more be upset about this than we should be upset about the fact that there are possible positions on a chess board that can’t be arrived at through normal play. If the math system you’re using doesn’t end up having the properties you want it to have, then the solution is to make up a system that does have those properties (side note: this is why everyone should just accept the Generalized Continuum Hypothesis as an axiom and get on with our lives instead of being obnoxious about it). The idea of “completeness” was always impossible and never really meant anything – it’s time to stop mourning Gödel and embrace mathematics for what it really is.