#but how am I supposed to do that EFFECTIVELY without REFERENCES

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

HOW am i meant to find photo reference for my stupid underfed old sweatshirt too-short jeans currently living his sad backstory 17-year old looser boy? What are the search terms for this?

[marzipanandminutiae]

"EUROPEANS ATE GROUND-UP EGYPTIAN MUMMIES!!!! ALL THE TIME!!!"

sounds much more dramatic than

"Europeans sometimes consumed ground-up Egyptian mummies, or fluid found inside the chest cavities of mummies, or a type of tree resin that became associated with mummies because it kind of looked like the bitumen used in the embalming process, or the dried and ground flesh of very specific European dead- most likely a bit of all of the above at various times in various places. but it's hard to say what the proportion of each was- and at least one early Middle Eastern physician, Abd al-Latif al-Baghdadi from modern-day Iran, also advised the use of the Body Cavity Liquid variety hundreds of years before the first documented use of mummy by Europeans. so it was a medicinal thing in the areas from whence the mummies came, too. unsurprising seeing as a lot of cultures- including Europeans -have done Corpse Medicine with their own people for centuries. there was also been pushback against the medicinal use of mummies in Europe since at least the 16th century; it remains unclear how popular the notion was at any given time. so the answer to Is This A Good Symbol For The Effects of European Colonialism In Egypt remains a resounding 'ehhh...?'"

"because the whole idea is, is it not, that Europeans were literally consuming the dead bodies of a non-European people who would have had no reason to sell their dead without a European market. and that's kind of true! there was a market that created a demand! but they were also already putting the bodies to these uses closer to home before Europeans started, because this whole thing began with both Arab and European doctors misinterpreting other Arab doctors who were talking about the medicinal qualities of tree resin. so really it's not as simple a situation as we might like to believe."

"and Mummy Brown paint is like this whole other situation where it was supposed to be made from ground-up mummies but often wasn't because Cost-Cutting, and a lot of artists didn't really like it anyway, and others used it thinking the name only referred to the color, and one time Edward Burne-Jones attempted an Egyptian funeral for a tube of Mummy Brown paint because he was so horrified with the origins, so while that's a more straightforward as an Oh Shit Violent Colonialism situation, people merrily waltzing into shops and buying one tube of Dead Egyptian Person, please, my good man! wasn't quite as widespread as one might now think"

"for me, the more compelling image of Europe Fucking Egypt Over is that of a white archaeologist peering curiously into a pit where Egyptian people are working tirelessly to excavate a tomb, their names to be lost to history in favor of whatever rich white person they toiled for. even that image is not without complicating factors- I, imagining it, am a white woman who cannot ask those Egyptian men what they think and feel about all their role in all this -but to me it seems more reliable than the VERY complex and often misinterpreted history of the mummy trade, even as I understand it after like an hour of research"

"on the OTHER HAND, does it even matter if people in the Middle East were already doing mummy medicine, when Europeans increased demand? does it even matter if Europeans felt bad or at least grossed out about Mummy Brown paint or if it wasn't ~always~ real mummies? maybe it doesn't! maybe my instincts as a history worker to say It's More Complicated are clouding my judgment on the nature of colonialism! or maybe they aren't! or maybe different people will think I'm right or think I'm full of shit and that's just the nature of doing public history on The Tungles!"

"anyway I have COVID and should probably go to bed now"

"this article and the Wiki page for Mummia are very well-sourced"

[cevansbrat0007]

The Slam

Summary: Ari has had a enough of your TikTok foolishness...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, Prank Foolishness, References to P in V sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Now that you’ve gotten your first TikTok prank under your belt, you found you needed more. It was as if a beast – for lack of better phrasing – had been awoken inside of you. And it demanded that you served the world chaos.

At your man’s expense.

While you’d gone a little bigger the first time around, today you’d decided to dial it back just a touch. Lately you’d been watching videos of women slamming their boyfriend’s and husband’s car door after what seemed to be the most innocent of conversations. 

In retaliation, some of them yelled confused obscenities, or honked horns, others simply appeared content to stew in whatever resentment had already been brewing beneath the surface. 

Regardless, almost all of them were funny. And not only that, but you got the distinct feeling that Ari wouldn’t appreciate it. His truck was precious to him. 

Almost as precious as you. 

This morning you choose to test your luck when Ari is kind enough to drop you by your place so that you can switch out purses and grab your makeup bag before heading out for lunch. You can tell that he doesn’t fully understand the reason you need either of those things. 

In fact, when you told him what you needed, he’d been swift to grunt something to the effect of how you already looked “perfectly good to him as it was”. And although it had made the butterflies in your belly do their special little flutter that was reserved for when you received compliments just from him, you pushed him to make the stop anyway.

In part because you needed those things, but also because you wanted to fuck with him a bit.

“I promise I’ll be super quick.” You tell him, hastily undoing your seatbelt as he pulls up in your driveway. 

“Still don’t get why you needed to come here.” Your bounty hunter was hungry, and therefore also a little grumpy. “You’re already the prettiest little thing I’ve ever set my eyes on without all the extra froufrou shit.”

“You would really have me walk into a restaurant with you with a bare face?”

“Baby, real talk, I’d be proud to have you on my arm if you were wearing nothing but a paper bag.” Comes his quiet, but sincere rebuttal. 

It’s enough to make you melt.

 “You’re sweet.” 

“Uh huh.” He huffs, throwing his truck in park. “And women are weird. Besides, all that makeup looks better on my pillow anyway.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call us weird. Could’ve sworn you were supposed to be intrigued by the feminine mystique.” You tell him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

“Weird.” Ari huffs again, clearly not moved by your response.  

“Mystique – you jerk.” Feeling slightly miffed, you decide to steal a sip of his water. 

“Can you please just go get the bag and war paint before I waste away from hunger?” You bat his hand away when he leans forward to open your door and usher you out his vehicle. “My stomach is literally trying to eat itself and you wanna fuckin’ argue.” 

“I am capable of opening it myself, thank you very much.” You hiss without any real heat before grabbing the handle.   

“Then I would very much appreciate it if you did that so we can get this show on the road.”

“Okay, okay.” You finally relent. “I’m sorry. Gimme a kiss and I’ll go–”

Ari’s mouth is on yours so fast it’s almost comical. He cups your face with calloused hands, stroking his thumbs across your temples as he does. But unfortunately, just as you’re about to sink into the kiss, he pulls away.

“Now get.” He growls, before opening the door and effectively shooing you out. 

“Fine.” Climbing out of his truck, you decide that this is your moment. “Be right back.” Closing your eyes, you give it up to the Lord before slamming Ari’s door hard. 

Actually a little harder than you intended. Ah, well. 

Grimacing, you begin to half walk, half run for your front door. After all, there was such a thing as being too brave for this world. And you’d actually felt his vehicle rattle with the force with which you’d put behind it. There was no way this man would not respond. There was no way–

“Aye!” Your shoulders automatically hunch of their own volition when you hear him throw open his own door in protest. You haven’t even made it to the front porch. ”The hell was that about?”

“What?” You try to play dumb.

“Bird. Stop.” 

It’s the calm authority in his voice that has you freezing in your tracks. It’s the same reason your panties are soaked too. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you turn around and face Ari.

“What–”

“I’m gonna need you to walk your pretty little ass back over here, baby.” He quirks a tawny brow when your legs don’t immediately start moving. “Now.”    

“Beast, I need to go inside and–”

“Ass. Here. Now. Please.” Ari tacks on the last word when he sees you frown. However, the frown stays in place as you march back over to where he’s standing, or now leaning, against the side of his truck.

“Thank you.” He grunts before cupping your cheek, drawing you forward. “Now, is there a reason you’re out here slammin’ my shit and spikin’ my blood pressure? Does this have somethin’ to do with that whole feminine mystique business again?”

As he talks, you find it hard to resist the urge to run your fingers through his newly shorn beard. You’d hung out in the bathroom with him this morning while he trimmed it, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his shirts. 

“No.” You breathe, your nostrils flaring when that same hand moves, gently lacing itself around your throat.

“You pissed at me for somethin’?” His electric blue eyes search yours for answers.

“Um…nope.” 

“You tryin’ to pick a fight?”

“Also no.” You tell him as your hand comes up to wrap around his thick wrist. “It was a joke I saw on TikTok and–.”

“Christ, I’m gonna stop you.” Ari blinks twice before forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Since you and I don’t have a problem, I’m gonna let you go inside and fetch your things. You have five minutes, or I’m comin’ in after you.”

“To do what?” You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. Sometimes this man really had no sense of humor. “Because I‘m gonna need more time than that to put on my face.”

The look this man gives you lets you know that you are absolutely trying his patience – every last piece of it. 

“You got five minutes.” Ari repeats, his thumb stroking over your pulse point. “Or I’m gonna come in there and personally take my time making sure all that makeup ends up in its proper place where it belongs.” 

“But that’s not fair!”

“Neither is subjecting me to shit you see on that damned hickory dickory dock crap you watch all the time, and yet here we are.” He leans down to brush his lips against your forehead. “Now go.”

Ari finally releases you before pulling out his phone, and it takes him only a second for him to show it to you, letting you see that he’s started a timer. And it is quickly counting down. 

“You got five minutes, sweetheart.” He winks at you then, before breaking into full blown laughter when you turn to make a break for your front door. “Otherwise I’m comin’ in after you, and it’s gonna be what it’s gonna be.” 

Forget the purse. You decide you’re better off snagging the makeup and beating it back to the truck before the timer strikes zero.   

“Bastard.” You grumble under your breath – which only makes him laugh harder.

“You just lost yourself thirty seconds for that one. Better run, Bird.” 

END

Unofficial Tag List

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[r3medialch8os]

devastating trobed quotes (a list)

does thinking of troy and abed ever make you inexplicably upset? well, it's all in the text! aside from troy and abed serving as frequent comedic buffers, they are given some weighty emotional scenes throughout community's run. just look at the meat of these lines!

we just won't get masking tape (what a beautiful, simplistic way to portray how troy is able to think around abed's systematic manner of viewing their friendship in its beginning stages as well as an illustration of how he deals with conflict)

i love you (pure honesty in a moment of intense distress)

i know (both a reference, because it's easy, and the truth)

you don't like people who tell you what to do, and i don't wanna be one of those people (one of the more heartbreaking things said between the two of them, with troy knowing exactly abed's qualms and negative experiences with being controlled, not wanting to add to it, and still having to fall into the pattern for the sake of keeping him safe, fearing he's risking their friendship by doing so)

you weren't supposed to think those things (you of all people, the person i trust most in this whole world)

this is going to be the last thing we ever do together, we can't stop (what the actual fuck)

i know you hate when people do this in movies (whispered quietly to abed by troy, without anyone else hearing, one of the most romantic, intimate lines in the whole show, argue with the wall)

you're gonna have to trust that you're gonna have to trust me (said to someone with severe trust issues, and for good reasons, just an incredible invocation of the bond they have)

for the first time in my long history of being locked inside things, i knew someone would come (as someone who was bullied in high school, this line hits so fucking hard, aren't we all waiting on this moment?)

you were out there somewhere, and you weren't looking for me? (devastating in a way where i simply cannot believe they throw words like these around casually)

the floor can't be lava forever, the game's gotta end (troy, perpetually insistent on indulging abed, on letting him do his thing, on enjoying his imagination, has to be the one to bring him back to reality this time, and even if he tries to do it as gentle as possible, it will never not rip my fucking heart out)

it's not a game for me troy. i'm seeing real lava because you're leaving, it's embarrassing. i don't wanna be crazy but i am crazy so i made a game that made you and everyone else see what i see. i don't want it to be there either, i swear. i want you to be able to leave but i don't think the lava goes away until you stop leaving (fuck it, i'm putting the whole thing, not a lot makes me cry but abed so clearly experiencing disillusion and trying to assuage troy while also communicating to him how hard it is to accept him leaving all with an air of embarrassment and hopelessness and desperation will do it for me, thank you very much)

i'm not leaving, okay? i promise. the floor's not lava now, just give me your hand (all i can say is that i bet it tore abed to pieces hearing these words)

i think i might be able to let troy go now (the way he says it too)

when i cloned you i had to patch some missing parts of your dna with genes from a homing pigeon. you may notice side effects like a compulsion to come back (in other words, i am in love with you and i never found the right time to say it)

[apathetic-revenant]

uh...hi?

[head pokes around corner]

so...

I've been back to scrolling around on tumblr for a bit now, and have been really wanting to get back to actually, y'know. being here. posting. not just sort of hanging here invisibly like a mournful ghost, observing but never interacting. that sort of thing. (revenants, after all, are supposed to be corporeal undead.)

but I really wanted to explain why I just kind of abruptly vanished in the first place. no one demanded this of me, but it felt like something I had to do. and then, in the typical way of self-imposed obstacles, it became a massive stumbling block. partly because of the nerves and emotions attached to it, sure, but mostly, tbh, because it was a Task. I recently (about 3 weeks ago now?) started seeing a new psychiatrist and got an adjustment to my ADHD meds which basically made my brain boot up again for the first time in way too long. this is great! but it means I am having to kind of slowly rehab my brain into getting used to doing Literally Anything again, one small step at a time. I am not being hyperbolic when I say I had to gradually build up my executive functioning for a while just to be able to write a tumblr post.

but fuck it! I really wanted to just do this already. so, while I'm sure I'll talk about all this in more detail later, for right now I'm gonna strip this down to the bare essentials just so I can get it done at all.

here's what happened:

in 2020 I had a sudden onset of extremely severe OCD.

no, not about the pandemic, actually. yeah I was anxious about the pandemic but it was a pretty normal level of anxiety for a global pandemic, honestly. my OCD took the form of scrupulosity--essentially, an obsessive worry about being a bad person.

tumblr is....not a GREAT place to be if you have a sudden obsessive fear of being a bad person.

now, to be clear: tumblr did not CAUSE my OCD, and leaving tumblr did not cure it. that's just not how OCD works. later on, I learned that atypical antipsychotics--one of which I had been prescribed around that time, for depression--have been known to cause OCD. is there any way to prove that that's what happened? probably not, at this point! so I've just been kind of sitting with that terrible knowledge for a while.

anyway. I would've had OCD anyway, but reading a regular stream of posts going "hey, here's a really terrible thing you might be doing! you might even be doing it without knowing it! you need to think really hard and be constantly vigilant all the time for any sign that you might be doing this thing!" was basically pouring gasoline on the fire.

I never made an active decision to leave tumblr--if I had I would've said something first. I just kind of thought "god, I can't do this right now" one day and didn't open the app, which turned into days and then weeks and then months, and still things weren't getting better.

it's hard to express exactly how harrowing that whole experience was. actually I just started thinking about it and realized I would never finish this post tonight if I tried to get into it just now. so I won't. let's just say: It Was Bad.

but, by an astronomical stroke of luck, I ended up getting referred to not just an OCD therapist, not just the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid, but the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid and also she was really good at her job. I genuinely think that woman saved my life.

OCD therapy is one of those "the only way out is through" kind of things. it's brutal and also quite surreal, but it has a high success rate and is very effective. OCD is not a thing that you can cure, per se, but it went from completely dominating every waking moment of my life to being something that I occasionally have to yell at in much the same way as when the cat starts knocking things off my desk at 3 in the morning.

but, the thing was, it took a year-and-a-bit before my therapist and I agreed that I had probably "graduated" as she put it. so, by the time I felt able to go back on tumblr without my brain catching on fire again, it had been so long that I didn't know how to do it. I felt like I'd pulled a major dick move by just dropping off without saying anything. I still thought about it (usually late at night, at Time To Think About Every Regret I've Ever Had O'Clock) but my brain very easily goes to a place of "well, no one would really notice or care that I was gone, and if they did they'd be mad at me for having left."

well. earlier this year I started on the road to getting past that idea. shoutout to @fordtato for helping with that, btw.

but it took me a while to work up the courage and then, as previously mentioned, even longer to work up the neurotransmitters.

I think I gotta wrap this up for now cause I don't have much concentration juice left. but, for what it's worth: I had a lot of emotions, coming back and seeing the names of people I used to talk to all the time. I don't know how you feel about me anymore, but I really missed yall. I would like to talk to you again.

[neon-virus]

Now ramble shall be under the cut since this also touches on stuff that will be relevant for my fic so, spoilers maybe?? (Also i am no expert in making stuff sensical, so this is mostly shiet ive slapped together thats sitting in my brain)

also excuse any errors, english is hard :D

SO! the crowns.

I've made a lil sketch comic about Shamura and Nari talking briefly and Shamura referring to them as 'beasts'. I like to think that's what they are, parasitic like beasts.

They require strong willpower to withstand their influence. The crowns cannot do anything without someone to wield them, but if that person cannot resist the influence the crowns exert, then they will start to lose themselves to the crown.

The process depends. If the person is of weak mind, then they could become instantly consumed by it the moment it touches their brow. They would no longer be who they once were as the crown infects them in entirety and claims them for its own, eating their essence and making them effectively a shell for its own control.

Of course, these 'bodies' can still die, and once the crown no longer has its host, it becomes inactive.

But if you have a strong will, it comes down to a fierce endurance match, where the crown will try its damnest to break past your mental walls, to weasel its way in until you either give up or the crown submits.

Once submitted, it will effectively be 'inactive' in trying to influence the host, becoming a tool to be used and melded to its host's will. However, suppose that the host falls into a low point or has a grave vulnerability. In that case, the crowns will become active again, seeing their host is becoming weak and thus a perfect opportunity to influence and gain control.

For the bishops, this wasn't much of a problem outside of the initial wearing, at least until Nari started to question. Although Narinder is a very strong-willed person, the red crown still whispers to him, influencing his thoughts in the background and encouraging him until he ends up in his predicament of being imprisoned and leaving the bishops injured and vulnerable themselves.

Though the crowns can be given to others in smaller capacities or abilities granted to others, such as appointing them a vessel, they typically gain access to what is deemed necessary for use and not much else after that.

However, lamb was a bit different. Due to Nari knowing about the prophecy and the lamb showing absolute devotion, he gave her more access than she should have had and gave the crown room to sink its teeth in.

Granted, the crown quite likes lamb, almost imprinting onto her from her sheer strength of will and determination for revenge. It sought no reason to take control or try to as she did what it would have wanted her to do most of the time anyway.

So much so that it gave her a bit of help after Nari 'promised' her the prize she wanted, and the crown placed them into a pact. (That will be its own ramble later.)

and if she hadn't rejected Nari herself, the crown would have tried to make her reject him in her vulnerable state.

Now that he resides in the cult, the crown more or less is her's 100%, no shared control. And now that it has a new host, it no longer needs its old one, for what use is a gross chewed up toy to a beast when there's a fresh one to bite?

It still wants control—it's still a beast in a cage—but it's more willing to let her do as she pleases. It waited with Nari for over a thousand years, and it's waiting who knows how long more for the new host to eventually give in. It's very patient.

Also, when a host becomes infected with the crown's influence, their behavior tends to become strange.

Bursts of anger, erratic behavior, thoughts being replaced with what the crown wants you to think, and hallucinations, both visual and auditorial, are the general baseline for the start of an infection of the host, with other symptoms varying from host to host

[five-hxrgreeves]

im dYIIIINGGGG with the adam warlock x quill sister! when he calls her 'little quill'??? with that accent of his??? so soft and husky??? im screaming at my phone dude aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need part iii right freaking now!!!

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

POWERS: adapted from D.C.'s Stargirl, although in this instance, the powers are a part of you and the staff just helps you use them.

WC: 1.9k (woo a shorter one this time!) 

SUMMARY: your first meeting with Adam wasn't one that indicated that you'd become friends anytime soon. Your second meeting. . . wasn't great either. But, somewhere along the line, you would develop a soft spot for the curious man-child.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, badly written original fight scene, possibly ooc canon!guardians.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OMG!!! This is my first-ever inbox message- thank you, anon! You made my day with this <3 I love Adam's/Will's accent; I definitely hope that we get to see (and hear) more of him in other Marvel movies. As requested, here's part three (even if it's technically part zero, lol.) I do take requests if anyone wants to send me stuff! (I just won't write smut, sorry!)

I hope you guys enjoy this part, although I'm not very confident about it since I'm terrible at writing fight scenes. It's hard enough for me to imagine original content (like the other two parts) but scenes where people move around a lot without the movie itself to rely on are very difficult for me because my mind doesn't think in pictures, but in words and I don't know how to describe fighting. I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other parts. 😭

And on a side note, the 'no shit, Captain Sherlock' is another reference to space people messing up Terran lingo :)

Part 1 , Part 2

You were admittedly not in the best mood when you first (officially) met Adam. Peter and Mantis had left only days ago, leaving you to sort out your feelings alone. You were currently in the training room, fueling your sadness into anger at their abandonment. You often used your powers to aid you while you were fighting, but they weren’t much use during everyday life— unless you wanted to fly. Now, however, they were very useful.

Brilliant blasts of golden light shot out from the staff that your hands gripped tightly. While your powers could be used without aid, the staff helped you control them; Ego had made it for you when you’d become old enough to serve as his protector. Although you were disgusted with the weapon’s origins, you couldn’t help but agree that it made your fighting much more effective.

Each of your blasts hit the targets squarely in the middle as you turned deftly to conquer the row. A scowl was prominent on your face as you pictured each of your targets as Peter’s or Mantis’ face. (While you would never really want to hurt them, of course, the sting of their desertion fueled your thoughts.) You were listening to a playlist by the Rage Against the Machine— which you had chosen solely because of the band’s name as it mirrored your feelings. The music that was blasting in your ears was so loud that, if someone had been standing next to you, they could have heard the lyrics as if they were wearing your headphones themselves.

As you moved up and down the line of targets, you were unaware of the audience of three that had entered the room. Groot, Rocket and Adam stopped by the entrance to watch you unleash your fury against whatever enemy you were envisioning. The new leader of the Guardians gestured to you. “There. See? I told you she’s nice.”

Adam hesitated, clearly uncertain. “She looks mad.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Shut up,” Rocket retorted, glaring slightly at the tree who was supposed to be helping his case. “She won’t hurt goldie. You’ve already seen her bad side, haven’t you? This is nuthin’.”

The golden boy had to admit that Rocket was right; he remembered only too well his first encounter with you as you’d jumped in to help your friends fight off his unexpected attack.

--

He’d just defeated the stupid tree-like thing and as it scuttled away like a demented spider, the faint sound of a whistle pierced through the air. An arrow shot out of nowhere, harmlessly bouncing off his skin and only annoying him more than anything else. He looked around sharply, but there didn’t seem to be anyone brave enough to fight him in the vicinity. “Hey! Who threw that?”

He scoffed when there was no answer, stalking towards where he’d last seen his target. But before he could get very far, a force came out of nowhere— this time much stronger than an errant arrow. It knocked him off his feet like a bullet and together they were sent flying through the town, which elicited more cries of fear from the citizens.

He landed harshly against a building that got in the way and debris fell on top of him from the force of the collision. Adam grunted irritably; this was the second time during this fight that his enemy thought that throwing him into a building would be enough to deter his attack— didn’t they ever learn? He stood and shook the dust off his clothes before he strode back out to the street to face this new opponent. Except— it wasn’t the same blue person from before.

The golden boy stared at the other person with disbelief, the only thing that he could come up with was: “you’re a girl!”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Captain Sherlock.” She twirled the staff in her hands expertly between her fingers before she set the butt down on the ground. It glowed softly as it lit up with her power, her face set. “Let’s do this thing.”

Adam had no qualms about fighting a girl, so they charged at each other without hesitation. He thought she’d be as easy to take down as her teammates but when they collided, she merely used her staff as a shield against his attack. They paced across the open space as they exchanged blows, the girl using her staff offensively and defensively interchangeably. As she flipped neatly out of the way of one of his advances, he began to see how evenly matched they were.

“You are stalling,” he realized. “If you just hand over your friend, we would not have to fight.”

The girl paused, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case—”

She charged at him again, her staff catching on his uniform. She followed him into the air and her swift kick to his stomach sent him tumbling away from her. It was then that he realized that she could fly— just like him— and that was what had powered her initial attack. In the time it took for him to recover from the spin, a blast of golden light was sent his way. Because of his more durable skin, though, the light only felt like volts of electricity rather than something that could do actual damage. The most effective part of her power was the blast itself, which he had to fight through to get closer to her.

Now that he knew where her power came from, he made to attack her staff in order to knock it out of her hands. She seemed to sense his plan— Adam figured most people she fought went this route— and she countered this by trying to fly above him to push him towards the ground. He responded by grabbing the staff in her hands directly while she was mid-swing. The girl was tiring slightly, her breath becoming shorter as the fight went on and she was now on the defensive.

She tried to yank her staff loose from his hold but as evenly matched as they were, he was still stronger. The girl then attempted to shake him off by lighting the staff up with her power. If he hadn’t been such a strong opponent, the golden light would have burned through his hands. As it was, the little volts were barely something that he registered. While he could have easily swung the staff to send her flying off the end and into the ground, he held back the true show of his strength as she didn’t seem to be as resilient as the two blue people or the tree.

Instead, he tried once more for the diplomatic route: “you have fought valiantly for your little friend. If you surrender him to me now I will leave your village in peace.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with fury as she continued to fight to free her weapon. “Go to hell!”

Adam sighed, having partially expected that response. “Very well. Have it your way, then.”

He smoothly jerked the staff from her grasp and carelessly tossed it to send the weapon spiraling towards the ground. He turned back towards the girl to finish her off as he had her teammates, but he paused. She seemed to hang, suspended, in the air as time appeared to freeze around her. Her eyes widened and, for the first time since he’d encountered her, a look of fear appeared on her face.

Then, she dropped like a stone.

They were very high off the ground by this point and the fall would likely kill a normal being. He wasn’t sure if she would survive, so his reflexes kicked in before he could really think about what he was doing.

By now, the shock had worn off and she fell through the air, she reached up to him as he was the only person who could help her. Adam put on a spurt of speed to try and catch her but she was falling faster than he had anticipated. The girl slammed into the ground and lay still just as he landed next to her. He told himself that saving her wasn’t his mission, and her incapacitation only made obtaining his goal easier. His mother’s orders echoed in his mind, so against his instinct he turned away from her in pursuit of the squirrel.

--

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you. You whirled around with your staff in a defensive position only to be met with the sight of your teammates. With a sigh, you pulled out one earbud but didn’t pause your music.

“What?” you asked shortly.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Little Quill. I’m ya superior now,” Rocket replied, unaffected by your attitude. “I wanted you to meet golden boy here.”

You gave Adam a once-over, ignoring how the sight of his. . . attractive features made your stomach curl pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, feeling once again ashamed of his previous actions. Before he could say anything, Rocket spoke again, adjusting the straps of his jumpsuit as he did so: “well, I ain’t great with humie ages, but I figured ya’d be about the same. I thought it might boost team morale to see ya two hangin’ out together or whatever humies your age do.”

While your first response was to dismiss the whole endeavor— you didn’t want to get close to someone else just to have them leave you, too— but a small, traitorous part of your mind whispered: he saved your brother. Another part chimed in: he’s not bad to look at.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “He can stay, but he better not get in my way. I’m not stopping my training because of him.”

“That’s the spirit, Little Quill,” your captain said, choosing to not acknowledge your reluctance. “I’ll leave ‘im in your hands. Let’s go, Groot.”

As you shoved the earbud back in your ear, you could faintly hear Adam’s protest: “wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

While Rocket’s reply was drowned out by your music, the boy’s words hit you unexpectedly; it sounded just like your response to Peter’s and Mantis’ disinclination to stay with the Guardians. Some of your anger faded as you glanced at the boy who stood awkwardly in your periphery. Despite all of his strength and power, Adam looked a bit like a lost puppy and his expression made your features soften against your will. Fine. Whatever. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.

You took out an earbud again. “Well, don’t just stand there. I know you can fight, so let’s see you use those skills.”

At the reminder of your first encounter, he sent you a guilty look. As he stepped up next to you, he said quietly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. For almost killing you.”

You patted him on the arm companionably. “Hey, no hard feelings. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, so just add your name to the list.”

All of the Guardians had forgiven him with surprising readiness and it seemed like you were no different— only, you were. His gaze stayed on the spot where your hand had touched him. There was a lingering warmth as if your hand was still there, the sensation sending tingles (not unlike the ones that he felt during your blasts of power) through him.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs , @trashpenguin

[average-mako-enjoyer]

Bigots and Failed Promises of Mass Effect games

(I had this thing in my drafts for almost a month, and it would have stayed there if not for the wonderful post by @androidtrashfire, because I saw it, and I was like: "Fuck it, I have to rant about these games." I love Mass Effect, and I really think we should critique it. We should criticize things we love because silence = compliance.)

So I was talking to @liss-art recently about the bigoted fans in the Mass Effect fandom, and I think I need to make a post about it because it's something that really, truly bothers me, and it needs to be addressed.

Canon

Mass Effect is a story about deeply flawed people with a lot of problems, and through them it touches on issues like xenophobia, sexism, corruption, elitism, morality, identity. That's why we like it, right? But why are there so many bigots in the fandom? My theory is that it happens because Mass Effect, for all its supposed complexity, only touches on these issues without giving any meaningful commentary on them.

Here are a few obvious examples:

The Quarians are a distasteful allegory of the Roma people (right down to their accents). They are persecuted and ostracized for creating Geth, but the game never gives us any socio-political reasons why the Quarians did that. They just developed real AI because they were naive and stupid? Or because they were the only ones smart enough to do it? Did they do it in secret? Why did other races not make the same mistake?

Same with the Batarians. Yes, the game mentions tensions between humans and Batarians because humans try to claim territories that Batarians think are theirs, but that's about it. Batarians are all racist slave traders and they're bad, don't think about it, here's some memes about 300,000 of them dying, good job. And yes, I know you can read more about their history in the Codex (why is it an Asari who writes about Batarian history,btw?), but it's basically the same thing as saying D*mbledore is gay (I really am sorry for this reference). If no one ever mentions this rich Batarian history, then it doesn't exist.

And please don't get me started on Hanar. They "mercifully" saved the Drell by inviting them to their planet, immediately assimilated them into their own faith and also put them in conditions where they have to train as assassins from the ripe old age of 6 and eventually die of sci-fi lung cancer. But don't worry about it, Drell actually love to serve the Hanar, they do it willingly and consider their servitude an honor. Do you really want to criticize some stupid jellyfish who talk funny? Do you really want to talk about why the so-called Council races do nothing about it? LOL

Another thing the trilogy does is present entire races, including humans, as amorphous blobs. Do all Asari believe in the same "goddess"? Do all Turians obey the same Primarch? Well, what's important is that all humans in this bright future speak English.

But what about the genophage? That's a profound story, right? Well, not really, and it raises more questions than it answers. We hear a lot about how brutal, aggressive, and short-tempered Krogans are, but every single Krogan we meet is extremely well-mannered, and they only resort to violence against other races in dire circumstances. So why not save them? Does the game really present you with this moral dilemma or not?

And can anyone tell me why Salarians are allowed to abduct and experiment on sentient beings, and why Turians are allowed to wage wars? Why does no one talk about Asari in this context?

I really want to say that at least the characters are well written, but I can't because they're not.

Kaidan is a good example of this. We are told about his implant, we are told that he has chronic pain, but do we see him suffer from it? Do we see him in those moments of weakness and vulnerability?

The scene where he gets annoyed with Jenkins acting like he's a circus monkey who has to do a trick and biotically throws a cup at him was cut from the game. We occasionally hear him mention some of the side effects of his migraines ("Too many lights, too much noise"), but that's about it. What has happened to "show, don't tell"? And no, I'm not saying that the writers should feed me the story or walk me through it. What I am saying is that if you gloss over your characters' mistakes, flaws, and circumstances, you're getting people to ignore them. Do people who call Kaidan "boring" and insult him think about how his chronic pain, his trauma from Brain Camp, and the loss of Jenkins and Ashley affect who he is? Hell no.

Thane is another great example. What Mass Effect is telling us as a story is that you can completely abandon your family and your child and be forgiven if your reason for doing it is good and heroic enough. Like avenging your dead wife, because of course there has to be a dead woman thrown somewhere.

Everyone's favorite Garrus (mine too) is a cop whose character arc basically consists of deciding that he is above the law (since the law forbids him from killing people he thinks should die) and then involving his squadmate/friend/partner (depending on your playthrough) in the public assassination of his former squadmate, whom he never even bothered to confront first. Are there any consequences for Garrus for his actions? No. Again, it's all glossed over, and that's unfortunate because it removes the conflict and therefore the character development and depth.

And if you're going to tell me that ME is just a space opera, and that I should just enjoy the spectacle and the romance, then I'm going to tell you that I know that, and that I think it's a wonderful spectacle, and that some of the romance subplots are absolutely amazing story-wise, but the superficial commentary (or lack thereof) on the most important issues that ME covers actually harms the audience.

Fandom

On the one hand, we have people making mods that remove all the clothes from all the female characters (or remove all of femShep's organs and replace them with giant tits). We have people reposting that horrible, horrible art of Miranda and Jack fighting, tearing each other's hair and clothes, and maleShep smirking and saying "I should stay". We have people who say ME2 is the best game in the series because "there are no f*gs". On the other hand, we have people saying things like "there are two Commander Shepards - female and the wrong one". We have people who say "only weird people play as dudebro in 2024". We have people who think that simply playing as a female character is some kind of feminist statement, and that it makes them better and smarter than everyone else (the same people who use the term "dude gamer" as an insult). And all of those things are kind of the trilogy's fault.

Both maleShep and femShep have the same story. The only differences are the romance options, sexist remarks directed only at femShep, and flirtations from various NPCs directed only at femShep. What this tells you is that sexism exists in the Mass Effect universe, and only women suffer from it. It also tells you that only women are worth flirting with.

Another thing this game does (and modern games like Cyberpunk do the same thing) is equate the female experience to the male experience by giving both femShep and maleShep the same lines.

So there are some mixed signals here. Sexism exists and doesn't exist in this universe, Shepard is both genderless and very gendered, romances with underdeveloped characters are all over the place, and bigots thrive in this kind of environment.

The lack of commentary, the lack of perspective, the disastrous worldbuilding allows you to freely choose your sexist, racist adventure and not be punished by the story in any way.

Mirrors

There's a passage from Solaris that I absolutely adore and think about often.

"We don't want to conquer the cosmos, we simply want to extend the boundaries of Earth to the frontiers of the cosmos. […] We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is."

I think that perfectly describes what Mass Effect is as a universe. And in a way, it's a reason why it's so compelling. It's just empty enough for us to invest in it, to fill in the blanks of that narrative with the stories of our own. And it's also a reason why this fandom is a fucking hellscape.

[i3utterflyeffect]

(´▽`ʃƪ) c ould you please summarize the main plot points of some of your recent aus? (for example, im really digging selkie and loc, but i missed what exactly ended up happening with cho and dark in the former (both when they came to be and recently), & the entire inciting idea/event of the latter (and probably other deets i have no idea i missed))

how many are covered and at what length is up to u

i love perusing the asks but i get easily lost <3 tysm

augh alright!! okay so!

Loss of Control AU

Basically, this is post-showdown, but Dark did survive! It takes place right around the same time that the episode The Box does in canon!!!

Chosen and SC are captured, but so is Dark! Victim drains Dark's powers to take them for themself but it goes very very wrong and Victim loses all control, basically going into a feral state where they are constantly in fight/flight, which is very bad when you have brand new powers you can't control :(

Victim immediately is in a lot of pain, and basically wrecks a ton of Rocket Corp. The mercs are kind of at a loss as to what to do since Victim destroyed a lot of their weapons in the initial panic, and end up going to Chosen, because how the fuck else are you supposed to stop a superpowered stick on a rampage? c!alan didn't have any better ideas and without their tools the mercs aren't really in a much better situation

Chosen ends up getting released alongside SC, and finds out what happened to Dark, so they end up kind of freaking out. They can't exactly leave Dark here, because they ABSOLUTELY don't trust the Mercs to not just turn around and hold Dark hostage to get the upper hand again, and if Dark found out they would absolutely try to pursue Victim and Chosen. so they very reluctantly go with their best idea-- keep Dark safe by trapping them on the desktop!

admittedly i like to imagine either stick!alan or normal cursor alan depending on whatever's more fun for the situation, so that's not really set in stone at all lol

but that's basically the whole deal what's going on with dark and chosen!

Selkie Sticks AU

basically i have no idea how Alan becomes a selkie but the summary of the most important stuff is here!!!!

Dark does survive in this AU and gets redeemed as I've recently decided. :]

selkie!SC basically starts out as a toddler just because i think it's fun! Alan adopts the rest of the CG when they're around 4! (not as in how long they've existed but their age lol)

selkie!chosen is very much protective of their younger siblings, and kind of ends up bonding with alan a lot because they help take care of SC and the tiny CG a lot!

the CG have 'coats' as well, but they aren't selkies! alan actually made the little 'coats' for them as a gift. they're not real coats, but Alan figured that they'd want something to match! he was very much correct and the CG love their false coats a lot

also i sometimes talk about an AU where selkie!alan is still stuck as a cursor while taking care of SC! that's not a part of the main AU i just think it's so so funny to imagine

i think that's about all the tidbits i have that aren't covered tho!!

Stick!Noogai

i'm just including this one bc it's a favorite of mine hehe.

basically, during AVA 1, Alan somehow gets stuck in the computer! i'll be referring to him as Noogai from here on bc that's his name in the au :]

anyway, when he gets stuck, Victim terrorizes him for a while, before Noogai makes Chosen! in this AU Chosen is actually the one with mission code, but it just sums up to 'please protect me i am SO SCARED'! this goes very badly while it's still in strong effect but Chosen does their best to deal with it bc Noogai isn't sure how to change it without potentially hurting them :(

Victim kind of ends up not wanting to torment him in the end because he's kind of. too pathetic?? he's sick from the shift from human to stick, he's terrified, and he doesn't know how to protect himself at all, and it's really no fun at all to scare him because he just has a panic attack. honestly Vic is kind of worried about him after a certain point because he responds so poorly to becoming a stick, both physically and mentally.

eventually the two end up in a sort of begrudging understanding, and Vic ends up (reluctantly) helping Chosen take care of him.

I'm kind of not sure where Dark shows up, but let's just say they show up here for simplicity! Noogai draws them as a friend for both him and Chosen! unfortunately Chosen's first reaction to seeing an unfamiliar stick on the PC is to punch them. after that initial road-bump though things are pretty much fine!

they eventually find their way into the outernet and end up moving there, partially because Noogai is so sick of the PC and also because it's very hard to take care of someone who's used to being a human on a computer. Noogai ofc brings the pencil and pen.

he ends up kind of having a semblance of normality after moving to the outernet, and things are pretty much fine up until the fair where Gold dies in canon!

Noogai actually ends up going in before Gold and getting caught in the crash, but Chosen saves him, leaving him with scarring and a crippling fear of minecraft, but him and Gold do end up becoming friends! They're both not exactly the most social people among most sticks, and they're both kind of nerds, so they end up getting along really well and doing a lot of stupid kid stuff together!

SC ends up being created after Noogai tries to show the pencil to Gold, for no reason other than he was dumb and the first thing he drew was....... a stick. because of course it was.

Noogai is basically the little sibling of most of the hollowheads though, and it's mostly just a silly au!! Victim does end up having a soft spot for him deep down eventually, but they'd never tell him that because he'd absolutely exploit it. and also the mortifying ordeal of being perceived. mostly the second one. they view him as their little brother though, even if they sometimes think he's a little brat :]

also i draw the noogai!sticks with faces because noogai drew faces onto them!! he thought it'd make Vic a little less scary and they were nice enough to tolerate it

anyway!! hope that helps :]

[curio-queries]

SMERALDO GARDEN MARCHING BAND

My thoughts prior to the release of MUSE. I've avoided pretty much all reactions and analysis posts until I finished this so I have no clue if anyone else has come up with better words to describe some of these concepts but here's my take on it. I wanted to get this out prior to MUSE so that I can see how my view evolves with further context but here's where I am now.

Initial Reaction:

I'd actually had a few issues that night so I wasn't in the best headspace to take in a new song but I did listen to it on Spotify first and then watched the mv twice, once without subs and once with. (And yes, I know it's technically not called an mv...deal with it lol)

Anyways, I definitely wasn't immediately sold on it - which is expected from me, it's EXCEEDINGLY rare that I like any song on first listen but SGMB only took a couple of runthroughs before I was on board. One thing that helped me reframe it in my mind and with my previous expectations is to remember the first part of Jimin's self-proclaimed attributes: Cutie, sexy, lovely. SGMB leans very solidly into the cutie aspect, a little near the lovely side but far deeper into Cutie than anything we've seen in his solo releases. (RememberCute was an answer in the seossword puzzle). That got me thinking about where the rest of his songs would be in comparison and here's the placement I've landed on. Some of these have changed over the past few days but I'm curious where y'all disagree with my placements.

Good old Serendipity, a perfect balance of the three in my opinion. All of FACE is firmly in the Sexy section with Like Crazy leaning more evenly into Lovely. Lie is also right there with LC but more closely on the border. My beloved Promise and Letter holding down the Lovely section with CTT straying closer to Cutie. If you forgot about the cutie circle though, SGMB would have seems like it was complete out of the expected range. I am curious if we'll ever get something that's a mix of cutie and sexy, I can't comprehend what that would be like but I wouldn't put it past our JM to find a way!

Theories?

So, how do I think I did with all of my theories? Let's go through them one by one:

Open Locker Meaning: nothing to prove/disprove this yet. There were an awful lot of references to Serendipity in the mv though, so maybe that's the tie-in? I don't know, this one was a streeeeeetch in any case.

Sound Effects Interlude: we know we're getting an interlude but we'll have to wait for MUSE and any behind info to learn if it's sound effects that Jimin recorded himself like Dive.

Rooms Going from Dark to Light: Yes! I mean we knew it was going to be a lighter album than FACE but I think the word BRIGHT is all over SGMB. And I think this technique in both of those videos was trying to highlight that for us.

SGMB as an Actual Band: Yes! Definitely right here too! I'm going to talk about this more below because I think this is actually a very important part of this song.

The Emoji Poll from the Insta Chat: Yes! I think some people are still trying to make the argument that each option is supposed to represent different songs on muse. And while the others may lean more into any of these specifically, SGMB definitely has elements of all of them as well

An Actual Band?

So, like I mentioned in the theory above, I had the thought that SGMB could be portrayed as a fictional band itself, very similar to what MCR did with the Black Parade. And since Jimin decided to use this as the song's title; as well as make it the pre-release track, I think this is an important topic to delve into.

First, this allows Jimin a perspective shift to share with us his career outside the lens of BTS. Not because he NEEDS or WANTS to separate himself from them but he has had his own journey as an artist that may differ from his experiences from the perspective of a BTS member. Obviously BTS is completely woven through this journey and he gives us an acknowledgement of that with the line about 12 June and the handsign.

(Sidenote, whenever I see any of them do that now, I instantly think of that moment in Jimin's pixid ep where he said they don't anymore...I think we may have been misled...) 😝

Second, the frame of SGMB from a band's perspective also puts the song firmly in the categorization of 'work' rather than 'personal'. With FACE being such a deeply personal projectregarding his very deep human experiences, i love that he'svery upfront with us about MUSE being a work project. I've said this before, and it's one of my absolute favorite things about Jimin's music: he crafts it so that we can easily adapt it to our own interpretations. There's a lot of loving and beautiful imagery in the lines of this song that can have special meaning in all levels of relationships; platonic or not. But his delivery if this message to us, is professional. This is reinforced by the suits Jimin has worn in all of the material released so far. He's following a work dress code. (If you happen to see this post within a week of release, we have a poll regarding Jimin's suits on @bts-polls )

ME + US = MUSE

I just want to touch on this briefly here as I expect there'll be more once the album releases but there are some hints already. Like I discussed in my FACE post, Jimin has again come up with some key words to weave through the project. In FACE, it was several sentences but MUSE seems to be focusing on the following:

ME: Jimin himself

US: Jimin's view on his audience

MUSE: His awareness of us and how that effects his creations and manner of artistry.

SGMB and CTT are both bursting with these references and viewpoints. But I honestly don't think of SGMB as a traditional 'fan song'. I have another post where I talk about the different kinds of fan songs. Like I said above, SGMB details Jimin's experience as an artist and how his audience plays into that process. Not like CTT that's literally a diary of our journey with him. Maybe an extremely nuanced take but SGMB just doesn't feel like it belongs in the same 'fan song' categorization that CTT does.

The End for Now

Does anyone know anything about that little hand-wave Jimin does during the bow at the end? He repeats it. Is just an additional flourish that he's added in himself? I've never seen anyone do that during bows after a performance so I'm wondering if it's a cultural/industry thing.

What do y'all think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! If any of you have made posts about SGMB, I'll try to read them now but rumblr is not very forgiving if you miss something in the timeline. I'm very happy for you to share links to your posts in the comments!

[goratrix-betrayed]

Living as a Fictive: How to Find, Create, and Broaden Your Identity, With and Without Canon

Here is the script of my Othercon 2023 panel. The paragraph I wrote to describe it is as follows:

A lecture followed by questions and discussion about being a fictive trying to find and expand your identity. How to connect with not only your source, but the world around you, and how to work on becoming who and what you want to be without canon's constraints.

Introduction

Greetings, assembled people, creatures, and beings of Othercon. Welcome. As you likely know, this is a panel about living as a fictive, and forming an identity around, or perhaps despite, that. I welcome anyone to listen, however, as Othercon is a place to not only learn about yourself, but to learn about others and to interact with the community. Regardless, I ask that you hold your questions until the end, at which point there will be a dedicated section of time for them. I cannot answer questions effectively during the panel, as I am both easily distracted and long-winded, which is a recipe for going overtime and off-script.

A note on terminology before we begin: I am aware that there are multiple words that mean the same or similar things to the word “fictive.” For simplicity’s sake, I will just be saying “fictive” for the duration of this panel, as that is my lived experience and the word I feel most comfortable using. Additionally, I may refer to other members of a system as “headmates”--again, I am aware that there are many words for this, but I will generally use this one as it is fairly widespread and I use it for my own system. If, during the Q&A, you have a different word you would rather I use for your system members when referring to them, you need only ask, and I will adjust my language accordingly. For now, however, “headmate” is the word I will be moving forward with.

That aside, welcome. A brief introduction: my name is Goratrix. I am a vampire, a fictive from the tabletop role-playing game Vampire: the Masquerade. I am one of  many canon characters—characters pre-created for game masters to use in the games they run for their players as they see fit, with some pre-written lore to help establish both the character and the setting. When it comes to this world, I have been here since August of 2021, coming into existence during Othercon itself, in the midst of a panel that convinced my system that it would not be so bad to have me around. (Thank you very much to Pale, who ran the panel.) Last year, during Othercon 2022, I ran a panel about living with having a “problematic” fiction-based identity—the script and recording for that are both available for your perusal if you would like. And, if you are wondering: yes, I always talk like this. You get used to it. 

The Why of Identity-Building

Now, the topic at hand: being a fictive can be a confusing and lonely thing. We have much in common with fictionkind, but there is a crucial difference: while someone who is fictionkind has an identity and life outside of that fiction-based identity, in the very beginning, fictives typically do not. For most of us, the experience is rather like being plucked from your life and placed into the head of someone else—in my case, an at-the-time college student—with no understanding or awareness of where you are, what is going on, why, or, the worst question of all, what you are supposed to do now.

Take a breath, let it out slowly. We will figure this out together. It is a journey, yes, but it is uniquely yours, and the advantage to that is that it’s quite difficult to get wrong.

In short, my recommendation is this: understand yourself in the context of either canon or canon-divergent noemata, grow as comfortable as you can with that, and then expand outwards. Find or forge new aspects to your identity, find new interests and hobbies, participate in things you never would or could have back in-source. Engagement with the outside world is key to not feeling lost. If you lock yourself up in the identity that has been handed to you, if you insist upon remaining stagnant, as you were when you formed, you are, more often than not, setting yourself up to be miserable. This is not an accusation: I, and many of my headmates, attempted the same thing, and only began to enjoy ourselves once we started reaching out and opening up to the world and people around us.

It’s infuriating to realize that it works, but it really does.

It is, ultimately, your choice whether or not you want to grow beyond what has been set out for you, beyond what you are and were back in-source. The rest of this panel will be moving forward with the assumption that you are choosing to do so, or at least, that you are willing to listen to how that might be done while considering it yourself. Personally, I do not see much harm in personal growth and development, even if it is “out of character” or outside the bounds of what others would consider to be “canon you.” You are wholly fictional no longer, and should not let the bounds of fiction confine you. Do not let yourself be trapped by others’ expectations of you: if they want to interact with a wholly canon-compliant version of you, they should try roleplaying. You owe no one any part of your identity, and anyone who tries to box you in should be ashamed.

By all means, use canon, or your noemata—your memories—as an anchor if you so desire. Many fictives find this comforting. It is your point of origination, your source, where you are from: it is perfectly reasonable that you would want to keep that as a core part of you. I am not suggesting casting off canon unless that is what you want to do, and that is your choice. If you choose to do so, I would advise doing so slowly, in pace with you picking up other aspects of your identity if you feel yourself lacking, for fear of leaving yourself so empty that you do not know what to latch onto. Once again, however, that is your choice: I trust that you will do what you think is best.

Now, identity-building when you have found yourself in a strange world, sharing a head with strange people, can be quite difficult, especially if you have no aspects of identity outside of your source. I have talked about why you may want to grow beyond that, become something else or more. We now reach the how.

Step One: In Context

Older and more established fictives may be able to skip this step, as chances are, you have been doing it already. Many newer fictives also embark on this part of the journey, but not all, so I will walk you through it. The first step of broadening your identity, unless you are choosing to cast off your source completely and immediately, is to do so in context of your source, whether that be canon or your version of it. Doing this will help you flesh yourself out, if you feel it is needed—ask anyone with a fiction-based identity, and most will tell you that engaging with source is an excellent way to connect to the identity. You may remember pieces of your history, things you like, skills you had or may even still have—there is often a wealth of identity to be drawn from your source if you go digging. This may not work for everyone, but it does for many, so I believe it is usually worth a shot. At the very least, doing this digging and engaging with your source lets you get used to the idea and process of identity broadening and exploration in a safer, more comfortable way—your source generally will feel less like a frontier and more like dipping your toes back into the pool.

My first recommendation of this is just to engage with your source—watch it, read it, play it, whatever lets you interact. Most of all, I recommend writing about it. Anything you remember directly—any noemata you have—even things you “just know” without a direct memory. Write about your feelings on it, the people in it, the things you did and the events you witnessed. Writing helps you work through your feelings on a topic in a way that lets you reference them again later. Maybe you turn it into a post for your blog or website, maybe it becomes an essay, maybe it is simply a journal entry for you and you alone. Whatever you decide, I highly encourage that you engage with, or at least think about, your source, and write about it.

Personally, I worked out many of my apparent contradictions and issues with myself by simply going, step-by-step, through the things that bothered me. My early writings on the Fictionkind Dreamwidth detail the atrocities I committed in-source and why, what on Earth my reasoning was. If I had not done this, I do not know if I would have ever reconciled what I was supposed to be with who I was, and who I had to become to live with myself once I had exited the context of the harsh and cruel world I came from. Take your time with this; do not rush. You are not in a race. The time will pass regardless, so you might as well let it pass pleasantly and with little pressure.

My next recommendation is to seek out noemata in general. For those unfamiliar with the word: noemata, singular noema, describes any kind of source memory you may have, whether that be a specific moment, a scene, a smell, a sense, or ‘just knowing’ a fact without any moments or instances to back it up. The two best ways to do this that I know of are to engage with canon (to prompt your mind to “remember” what it sees, although this can produce false memories) or to do as many (usually mundane) things as you can in the hopes that you will trip a memory trigger. Neither method is perfect, and there are other tips for getting and finding noemata out there—if anyone listening has resources for that, please, feel free to link them in the chat.

Finally, I would recommend reaching out to and talking to sourcemates, whether or not they share your exact canon. I know many fictives are not comfortable with sourcemates, nevermind doubles, but if you are, I cannot stress enough how much better you can feel after talking to them if you get along. I do not know where I would be today without my boyfriend Chaiya in the Treehouse system—in our shared early days of being fictives, that summer and autumn of 2021, we were lost and untethered, and latched onto each other in an attempt to anchor ourselves. We are much stronger for having had each other, and are extremely close, and I do not see that ever fading. Chaiya helped me work through my issues with my identity, smooth out the wrinkles and accept who I am over who I “should be,” and vice versa. Without Chaiya, I doubt I would have ever engaged with the alterhuman community directly, so my thanks goes out to him—without him, this panel would not exist!

Sourcemates are extremely helpful because they understand. Many of them know the context of the world, so you do not have to provide it. They know what happened, who everyone is—they understand why you may feel the way you do about things, why topics might be complicated, et cetera. They are less likely to have to ask basic questions, and together, you may discover things about yourselves and each other. Doubles—fictives of the same character—are even more understanding in many ways, although I understand the possible distress of meeting one. I never have, I doubt I ever will—my friends and I are not terribly popular characters in the grand scheme of Vampire: the Masquerade or the broader World of Darkness—but my head- and sourcemate Sascha Vykos has. She is also in the Treehouse system and goes by the name Ashena, separating herself somewhat from the name of Sascha Vykos—but, still, she and Sascha are the same in many ways. They understand each other implicitly, often without ever having to say anything on a topic other than to bring it up, and they understand. There is a level of identity-diving and forming that can be reached only by someone who understands you wholly and completely, and a similar double is a good resource for that, if you can find one and if you are comfortable with it. If you cannot or are not: that’s fine. It is by no means a requirement, simply a recommendation. 

Step Two: Things to Do

Beyond engaging with your source material, to expand your identity, you will need to engage in other activities. Form an interest in something, get a hobby, give yourself some enrichment—or, in a more joking manner, roll a pumpkin full of meat around your enclosure. Now, while meat pumpkins may be an appropriate form of engagement for some more inhuman fictives, for the rest of us, we would get bored quite quickly, and need to find other activities to occupy us.

Why do activities? Why have an interest? Well, as a living (at least at the moment) and thinking creature, you need something to think about. And thinking about yourself and your source will only last you so long; eventually, the thoughts will become mundane and well-tread to you, and to maintain a level of activity and happiness, you will need something to engage your mind and that thing is typically going to be something you enjoy, often an activity. The idea is to give you something that you want to front or co-front to do or be present for, so that you are around in order to experience the world, form likes and dislikes, and grow as a person. This is the next step, and you can take it as quickly or as slowly as you’d like.

Expose yourself to activities, shows, songs, anything you’d like at a speed that is comfortable to you. A good starting point is to go along with what a headmate is doing and try to get into their interests, and if it doesn’t work out, that’s fine. There is no harm in trying something only to decide that it is not for you. A headmate’s activity or interest is fairly safe since, chances are, the system was going to be doing that regardless, and all you are spending is your own engagement time, which you wanted to be doing anyway.

Another good starting point is anything that you were interested in back in-source, especially if it still speaks to you. If you liked to read novels, listen to a type of music, create a certain kind of art—that might still be a good outlet for you, and you may still enjoy it. You might not. Key to this is remembering that it is okay if you don’t still like something—people grow and change over time, and not all interests last forever. Perhaps they will return in the future. When it comes to skills you used to have, however, beware: many fictives lose their skills in the transfer over to the system and need to re-develop them, and therefore, engaging with old skill-based interests may be incredibly frustrating, especially at first, as you may be back at beginner level despite knowing that you used to be better. I have had this experience with many of my own skills, particularly language learning—be kind to yourself, and remind yourself that, physically, you have a different brain than you once did (if you had one at all—robots or spirits may have had some other analog) and it may not know how to do what your old one did. You will need to teach it anew—and for some, that is a worthwhile endeavor, and for others, it is too painful and frustrating. Do what feels best to you, not what stresses you out.

On the flip side of that, do not limit yourself to hobbies or interests that “match” or “make sense” for who your source set you out to be—if something intrigues you, take a look. Pick it up, give it a try. There is no right and wrong when it comes to things you like or enjoy—if you like it, you like it! Do not let what others might think of you or your “image” get in the way of enjoying something genuinely. This is for you, no one else.

That being said, I encourage you to seek out community. Make friends. Find more reasons to front and to care about the world you have found yourself in. Perhaps it is similar to the one you come from, or perhaps it is very different—but you are here now, and I highly recommend that you try to make the most of it. I have found that friends, even just a few, make everything worth it, and that they make my darker days much easier to bear, as well as making my better days even more enjoyable than they already were.

As for you, nonhuman fictives, do not fear, I have not forgotten you. While you can pick up the same interests and hobbies as your human- and human-adjacent headmates just fine in most cases, activities not suited to your species might not interest you. My recommendation is to look for alterhuman lists and guides of suggested activities for your species or a similar one—the otherkin and therian communities are extremely good at this, and just posting in a community asking for suggestions is likely to get you quite a few. And, if all else fails, go back to square one: meat pumpkin.

Now, I must confess that my recommendations for activities and engaging in yourself and the world around you focus almost entirely on fronting or co-fronting and engaging with the outside world. Some systems, I know, have very detailed and rich innerworlds, where headmates can perform tasks, do activities, and otherwise lead complete, complex, and fulfilling lives. If this can substitute for you and make you feel fulfilled, I see no reason to limit yourself to engaging strictly with the world outside of your own mind—but I am not knowledgeable on this topic, as my own system’s innerworld is rudimentary at best, a simulation designed to let us visualize our existence rather than an actual complex and detailed place. When it comes to this, I will have to leave it in the hands of systems who experience it.

Step Three: Becoming

This is the most challenging step by far, and for many, it is not necessary. Perhaps you find yourself happy with your identity—perhaps you are not perfect, but no one is, and you just want to continue to live your life, experience the world, and grow and change “as you will,” letting yourself be shaped by your experiences like most people do. Fantastic! That is my recommended approach in most cases, and I encourage you to continue on that path. Keep experiencing, keep growing, keep talking with people, picking up interests, doing activities, and making things. Write, love, live, and have fun.

But for some, particularly those with more “problematic” source material, that may not be enough. In some cases, a fictive, usually of a villain, will form, and either immediately or eventually realize that they do not want to be who they are. They do not want to keep these personality traits, they cannot stand the things they have done—or perhaps they are simply sick of it, and wish to change themselves.

For those of you in this camp: first, my condolences. I have been in and out of this mindset, and have several headmates that exist within it. This is a long, difficult process, and as frustrating and counterproductive as it is to hear, you cannot get through this if the core of your being is self-hatred. You must be willing to accept or forgive yourself for being that way, or for doing what you did. You must be willing to accept that there is no going back now, only moving forward, and accept that you can only change the future, not the past.

However, also remember that you do not owe anyone anything. Do not let anyone tell you what you “must” change—you do not have to stop. You do not have to change anything, although I would advise keeping behavior most would consider repulsive to yourself, for system accountability if nothing else. You are not obligated to change the “bad” parts of yourself—if you wish to, that should be your decision, you should do it because you want to. Never change because someone else is pressuring you. Never. That is a lesson I have had to learn the hard way, primarily back in source, and if you listen to nothing else I say today, listen when I tell you that bowing to those who pressure you to change who you are leads only to strife. A thousand years I suffered from that: do not make my mistake. Learn from me.

Now. Let us say you want to change something about yourself in this way—a key trait, a streak of cruelty, something along those lines. How?

You will hate it, but—refer back to step two. Engage with the world around you. Make friends. Care about people. Let yourself love and be loved, and do not stop people when they try to care about you. Let the running waters of time and the world smooth out your rough points, wear away your sharp edges. Time will let you become who you want to be if you allow it.

Think about this, too, if you want to do something about it: think about what you would rather be like. Who around you has those traits? How do they act when they show them? What do they do that you admire so much that you want to be that way, either instead or in addition to the way that you are? You may have heard the phrase “fake it until you make it” before, but in this case, it is very true. Identity is a fluid thing sometimes, although I admit that I find it more fluid than most, due to my borderline personality disorder. You can fool yourself into really being a way without actually being that way—or, at the very least, you will find your mimicry becoming easier and easier, more comfortable, and if it is something you like, then fantastic. You have succeeded. How you act is what matters, not the way you behave.

Remember that changing yourself must, must be an act of self-love, not of self-hatred. You must want to be a new way because you would like it better, not because you despise yourself so much you cannot face yourself in the mirror. You can take your dislike of yourself and turn it around into something positive, but you cannot self-punish your way into being a different person. Not successfully, not happily.

And, again, remember: you are not obligated to change any part of yourself, even if you are “problematic” or even a “bad” person. There are many “bad” personality traits of mine that I do not seek to change because I have accepted and come to terms with them. To change them would be to cease to be the person I am and am comfortable being; there is no reason to change who I am intentionally and directly. I will let the world and my experiences affect me as they will, but that is no different than how most people live their lives. If you choose this path of changing yourself, make sure it is because you want to, not because you feel you have to.

Putting It All Together

All of this advice is nice, but does it work? I like to think so—this reflects my own journey and approach to growth and engagement with the world, as well as that of several of my headmates. Those of you who read my older work or knew me when I first entered the community have likely noticed a significant change in me from my first days—I am less abrasive, less angry, less likely to lash out or snarl at the first hint of provocation. I was desperate, scared, a beast cornered and threatened. Now, I know the world and the community well enough to step up and give a panel, write essays, run a Dreamwidth community—and that was because I let myself learn and grow from my experiences, I let myself pick up interests and make my own friends outside of the system’s pre-existing friends, and I worked on becoming someone more stable, someone I liked. I have lived much of my life in self-loathing, and it is a strange, wonderful feeling to be free of its mire, at least for now.

For another example, my headmate Japheth was fairly distant for two or so years until very recently stepping forward and making friends and engaging in his own interests. It took him some time to write a few angry, lost essays, answer a few prompts, and then stew—and only emerge slowly, piece by piece, as we slowly convinced him to care about other people and the world around us. Only once he began to take an interest in what the system as a whole was up to did we finally see him smile, smile and begin to have fun, and that was worth all of the time it took to get him there, because it was such an improvement over his deep, vast melancholy that he came to us with.

For our system, our main methods of engagement with the world are through making friends (often with fictives in other systems, but not always) and through playing video games. Our game library is vast: different headmates play different games, and even when they share interest in a game, many have different characters or save files from each other. This helps us feel different and feel like we are making our own progress, giving us a reason to front and care about something that is uniquely ours. This is what works for us,  but maybe it doesn’t for you. That’s fine; for a thousand systems, there are two and a half thousand ways of making progress.

The goal of this entire process is to help you be happy. The goal is to let you enjoy the life you find yourself in, to be happy with yourself and the situation you are in. If this guide helps you get there, fantastic. If not, but you get there another way, good. What matters is that you one day sit back and realize that you enjoy who you are, where you are, and what you are doing. Adjusting is not always easy, but with time, effort, and support, I know that each and every one of you can do it. Take a breath for me, once more. Tell yourself, please, that you can do this. It is only insurmountable so long as you allow it to loom over you. By breaking it into smaller chunks and individual steps, you can take it once manageable piece at a time until you realize that you have reached a state of contentment. One day, you will get there.

Conclusion

Now, as the lecture part of this panel draws to a close, and we approach the Q&A, I have a couple of notes. First, if you have a question that does not get answered or that you would prefer to discuss privately, you can message me here on Discord, on Tumblr, or even through email any time—just specify that you are looking to talk to Goratrix, and I will be there to get back to you. Second, I would like to open the discussion and Q&A portion with a list of audience-gathered suggestions—what would you recommend to a new or struggling fictive? What activities, interests, shows, games, community spaces? We have extremely varied experiences, I am sure—so drop your suggestions in chat for people to read through. If you have anything for your or a similar source, feel free to suggest that as well.

While that happens, and while people read through those, let us open up the remaining time for questions. I will do my best to answer.

[capitalism-and-analytics]

I don't believe anyone has the right to discriminate against anyone for reasons of identity. Because if they didn’t do anything objectively then your problem with them is subjective and therefore should only be your problem.

You don’t have to like them or respect them or the way they live. But if you provide goods or service to everyone not only the people you approve of. Because either that's the standard you set for everyone. And not only justifying the emotional weakness of every shop owner (which is something I thought only liberals were supposed to do.) But then that gives people the right to further retreat into their own personal bubbles and to not have their viewpoints challenged by everyday life.

That and when this becomes the standard for everyone 1 day you'll be kicked out of some place for something they don't like about you, and you'll be like "that's not fair I did nothing wrong." Which means that you're telling people to express themselves less and to be less of how they are. Which is the thought process totalitarianism is based on.

And if we don't go through with tlhe implications of this and only do this to gay people then they'll ask "well what did we do wrong? Why are we less legitimate than everyone else?" And we answer with: "well it’s how they feel." "Then all they gotta respond with is "well we don't guard anyone else is feelings that much so seems dumb to me." And there's no logical counter to that.

So at worst it's tyrannical and at best it's hypocrtically. Remember freedom of people always comes before freedom of business because if not than the businesses will oppress us. And oppression of any kind is awful.

Well there's quite a few things to address here and to avoid a terribly long post, I am going to try to keep it focused and on-topic of the original post.

I am assuming this post is in response and in context of the court decision (correct me if I am mistaken), but the decision was limited to expressive services and protecting individuals' rights of expression that in conducting business they have a right to reject providing expressive services that conflict with their own beliefs. This is very different than summarizing it as "only people you approve of" as it should be better described as "only forms of expressions you approve of". I understand the concern that people have that this could be a slippery slope situation that could turn into discrimination of certain groups of people solely based on a protected form of identity, but that is an inherent risk regardless as unfortunately, bigotry cannot be legislated away.

that gives people the right to further retreat into their own personal bubbles and to not have their viewpoints challenged by everyday life

Absolutely not as this "right" has already existed by consumers. The difference is that the right has been extended to businesses too. For example, forcing Muslims to shop at a Christian wedding store will not challenge their viewpoints, it will merely oppress them. Similarly, forcing a Christian wedding store to design services specifically for a Nikah will have the same effect.

In contrast, if you give them both the right to willingly participate, then you will find the Christian wedding store may choose to be more open to other religious practices in order to generate more business or the Muslims may consider purchasing some items/services from the Christian wedding store than to go without.

Remember freedom of people always comes before freedom of business because if not than the businesses will oppress us

I am not sure what you mean here because businesses are people. They are just a legal term to describe the entity providing a good or service. Are you referring to corporations being separate legal entities than their stockholders?

In the context of the court decision, we are referring to a self-employed website designer being protected by the first amendment, i.e. freedom of expression. Are you arguing that the Constitution or more specifically the First Amendment should not cover those involved in a business-related activity? I don't wish to strawman or misrepresent your argument.

[oldtowrs]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘 an aemond targaryen / reader fanfic

pairing—aemond targaryen / f!reader

tags—friends to lovers, fluff, love confession, couples' first kiss, other fluffy happenings such as aemond removing his eyepatch and the reader immediately worships his skin in the form of kisses and praise, vague meaning of flowers references, reader’s looks or house not specified, no use of y/n.

warnings—mentions of aemond's trauma and the effects it had on him

word count—~3.6k

—aemond had always understood what it meant to be a prince and the duties that came with it. duty became such a big part of his life that he had come to terms with it, and even begun to look forward to some parts of it. but then when his eye is taken from him, all of aemond's musings are for naught and all his dreams are taken away - including his hope of being loved by his future wife, and loving her in return. or, at least that's true, until you come into his life.

author's note—yay first aemond fic!!! this was originally supposed to be a little concept, that turned into a blurb, that turned into a kind of shitty one shot, that turned into a full fledged fic that i am actually quite proud of. this is not my usual type of fic, nor does it read like it, but i think i really like the concept and how some of it turned out. plus, who doesn't like seeing happy, in-love aemond? i know i do ! enjoy xx

gif credit—♡

masterlist | inbox | requests and inbox open !

aemond understood duty and sacrifice earlier than most did. his mother had sacrificed endlessly for him and his siblings, and it was through her that aemond learned how to go about his duties with grace and honor. he watched as his brother wailed and rebelled against his own, including those of his birthright, and how he continued to hurt their beloved sister helaena, the people of king's landing — even the servants that brought him wine and dinner — in the process. and so, aemond learned the importance of doing his duty without complaint. he had learned that as a prince, he had more responsibilities and duties to perform than others his age -- for the sake of his father and mother, his family name, the throne, the realm -- and there was nothing that he, nor anyone, could do about it. it was just his lot, and yet, it was still much better than most.

there was one duty in particular that he had thought long and hard about, however - one that he had come to take great comfort in during even the worst of his family’s toils. he knew the day when he would have to be betrothed to another was not far off, and that one day he would have to marry some young lady, and do his duty to her and her family, as well as his own. and though he would most likely have no choice in the matter, he had decided that he would not perpetuate the same pains his father impressed upon his mother, his siblings, and even upon aemond himself.

nay, he would treat his lady with the gentle care and the tender love that she deserved, whoever she may be. he would provide for her needs and be there for those of his children -- so contrary to the way his father was with aemond and his siblings sired by his mother. and though he may not have a choice in the course of his own life or which lady would spend it by his side, there was a little lingering spark of hope in his chest that maybe one day, his lady - whoever she would end up being - would learn to love him the way he had already vowed to love her.

but then his eye had been taken from him, and everything changed. almost all marriage proposals and discussions of possible betrothals stopped. it was as if his partial blindness - forced upon him violently and against his will - would burden the honor and reputation of any future wife's family the moment her hand was given by promise of betrothal to him — aemond, the one-eyed prince.

his mother had attempted to comfort him throughout it, but aemond knew the truth of it. his disfigurement had maimed him, robbed him of a normal complexion and — according to the rumors that followed him in the form of whispers and jeers thrown at him by the court — any masculine beauty he may have grown into through the dwindling years of his youth as well. it became painfully and quickly obvious that the mishap with his nephews an cousins had cost aemond that love he would've fostered so loyally. and so, he quickly found himself buried beneath the depths of a lonely abyss, with only vhagar, himself, and a  fury burning unresolved in his heart to keep him company.

but then you had arrived at court, and aemond couldn’t remember when exactly it had happened, but he soon found absolute pleasure in your company. you were, in his eyes, the embodiment of the summer sun, of soft rose petals and sweet dornish perfume. and you seemed so devoted to showering him in unrelenting and constant kindness. you, with all your golden jewelry hanging about your perfect neck, and adorning the loving hands with which you always reached to comfort him. you, who matched his intellect of the histories, and admired his mastery of the sword. you, who seemed to look past his disfigurement, who - if anything - admired the strength he mustered every day to face the world and the woes it threw at him with poised grace and elegance. you, who saw not a monster, a maimed crippled, or a besotten little boy that had grown into a bitter man. but you, who saw him for his worth, for his loyal soul and kinder dispositions, who tended to the ashes of his heart until a fire burnt anew amongst the cold catacombs in its depths.

aemond loved trying to teach you little bits and pieces of high valyrian amongst the quiet rustling of the giant wierwood's red leaves as the late afternoon breezes blew through the godswood. he secretly revelled in the way you would lay your head upon his lap and let your curls tumble across his thighs and cascade down his knees, giggling and blushing at his teasing when you mispronounced words here and there. he would love the late nights spent with you in the heart of the archives, before the raging fireplace, reading stories of old valyria to each other in hushed tones. and it would be his turn to blush as your delicate fingers brushed the soft strands of silken silver out of his face as he read, solely because you had convinced him to let his hair down for the evening, mumbling all the while about how you "adored seeing his wonderful face". he would look forward to the walks with you in the gardens, where every turn and loop was taken until the two of you would lose yourselves in the rows of flowers and beneath the canopies of the trees - all for the sole purpose of obtaining a few more moments of quiet, uinterrupted companionship alone with each other. 

it would be on one of these walks together through the gardens that you give him a handwoven crown of eucalyptus, baby’s breath and the occasional dandelion, and insist upon calling him "my king” despite his protestations that a wandering ear might find your words treasonous. but you insisted, and aemond found that he couldn’t resist the smile that continually pulled at the corners of his mouth. his face ached from the constant pleasure you pulled from him again and again in hushed murmurs and gentle teasings, his heart would ache alongside his face everytime you smiled at him, cheeks rosy and painted in the golden afternoon sunlight. you tell him you’d commit a thousand acts of treason if it meant you got to see him smile the way he did then. and in the sweet silence that follows when he looks down at his hands resting upon the pommel of his sword that he finds the confession lingering in the depths of his heart — he would follow you into a thousand deaths if it meant you were always this sweet to him in every life in between. 

aemond loses himself as the afternoon goes on. he becomes lost in the way you wrap your gentle hands around his bicep when he offers you his arm, and press your cheek into his shoulder in the aftermath of the fit of laughter one of his jests causes, cheeks red and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. it’s as though he can feel his darkened and bloodied soul entangling irreversibly with yours amongst the warm summer air and the sweet scent of the blooming flowers. 

and it was there, amongst the blooming hydrangeas that the two of you had ended up, so close that your hands, which lingered on his chest, served as the only source of space that remained between you and aemond. it was there, hidden amongst the blooming hydrangeas, that his hands had settled upon the small of your back, pulling you close as he tangled his lithe fingers into the silken ribbons lacing up the back of your bodice in an attempt to keep them from shaking. his lips would inch closer and closer to yours until aemond could feel the heat of your blush radiating from your loving cheeks, and aemond’s name would fall from your lips, hesitant and so uncharacteristically shy that he could feel his heart ache with every beat in his chest. 

aemond could scarcely remember the longing that had lingered in your irises as he hesitated, longing that hid itself behind flickering eyelids and long eyelashes as you closed both your eyes and closed whatever distance may have remained, your lips falling upon his own and ending the tension that threatened to snap aemond’s very heartstrings. 

but how could he remember what came before, when it was what followed that was a thousandfold sweeter and more memorable? 

absolute relief would wash over him when you don't shy from him or the passion that burnt like dragonfire in his heart, but rather met each stroke of his swelling, pink lips and dutiful tongue with your own as though your heart was perfectly attuned to his. he could only remember the absolute elation when you respond with soft, tender fervor, as you meet him over and over again, fingers pressing into his chest all the while, burning holes through his tunic, through his skin and musculature and blood, straight to his heart. aemond could only remember feeling surrounded by the hydrangeas, which spilled their scent so readily into the summer air, and your sweet perfume (the one so captivating that he was sure it had to be from the most expensive source in dorne) — the feeling of your love and affection, suddenly laid out in its entirety, for him and him alone, overwhelming him slowly. 

aemond is so lost in his absolute elation that he doesn’t even notice when your hand falls gently upon his scarred cheek so reverently that even his nerves sing a song of comfort rather than their usual wail of pain.

in fact, it is only when you finally pull away, and your fluttering lashes reveal a gentle shine of pleasure dancing about your eyes, that he realizes. aemond would go to pull away frantically, wishing he could make his disfigurement disappear. and so he makes to leave, the wreath of foliage and the love with which it was woven sitting forgotten about the crown of his head still. a familiar chant rang like an alarm through his mind, growing louder by the second: shame, shame, shame. it shut out all else, as the feeling railed into him over and over: SHAME. 

but before he could make his escape, a soft tug at his wrist pulled him back to reality, the warmth of your kind hands against his skin slipping beneath the hem of his sleeve until halting, just there, above his pulse point. all thoughts immediately dissipated into blissful silence and that shame which constantly plagued his ego seemed to evaporate, and the strong urge to forever ally himself to you taking its place with reckless abandon and without a thought given to self-preservation. 

"do not run from me,” you whispered, desperation clear in the buzzing summer air. “please, aemond."

and oh, how his heart aches at that -- the soft calling of his name from your sweet lips, spoken in reverent tones that you seemed to reserve for him and him alone. he looks back at you, downright heartbrokenness clouding his remaining violet iris as if bracing for the insult and the collection of his shattered heart in the aftermath. another realization would hit aemond then: he was irrevocably in love with you. and a word from you could do just that — shatter his being into a thousand wounded splinters with just a few carefully chosen words, whether those words spoke of kindness or worse, it did not matter.

but then that worry dissipated into relief, one which had begun to feel more and more familiar under your loving instruction, as your other hand tucked a strand of silver, pulled free by the heated nature of your engagements only moments prior, before falling once more to the curve of his strong jawline and nestled itself along the strong ridge of bone there. your fingers would tuck themselves against it just so and aemond would melt into the touch you always gave him so freely and so sweetly. your thumb would trace the scar which he finds so abborrent, absolute adoration lingering in your irises before you lean in until your lips were only inches away from his once more. 

“you are so beautiful, aemond,” you murmur, words so saccharine he is surprised he can’t taste their honeyed residue lingering upon his lips in the wake of your kisses only moments prior. “i only wish that you could see it.”

aemond can’t help but fixate on you  in that moment, your fluttering eyelashes, and the impossibly heated dusting of rose decorating the bridge of your nose, and the faint birthmarks and freckles that dotted your face revealed themselves to him by your closeness. its then he notices how your lips shine with the combination of him and you, and how your eyes travel from the accented dip of his cupid's bow, to his strong cheek bones, and finally to the leather patch that bisects the the craggy pink scar, hiding the worst of the injury from view. 

“especially here.”

tears well in his eye, stinging with the unspoken promise that his heart would always belong to you, from this treasured moment on.

“hmm, you flatter me, my sweet girl,” aemond hums, the words ache in his throat and upon his tongue as he speaks them, regretting the little ounce of betrayal that seems to seep like poison into his words — evidence of his heart still preparing for the worst. “but there are many more men of greater beauty than i, who are more deserving of your heart than i could ever be.”

“what are you saying?” you ask, hurt now entering the stage of your beautiful eyes, as they held his gaze with such devotion as if you wanted him to see the glimmer that turned dark and cloudy with confusion.“did you not-”

“i am saying that you have been my greatest delight, my brightest joy and my most beloved companion these past years,” aemond begins, heart aching so profusely at the hurt that begins to well up in his heart alongside the wetness in the corners of your dazzling eyes. “but you deserve more than i could ever give you. i am not worthy of you, and i could never hope to be.” 

"but aemond,” you begin to protest, only for him to tilt his head down to capture your lips once more, his desperation bitter upon your tongue as he presses his lips to yours with such fervor and such sadness. 

“you deserve someone as beautiful and as kindhearted as you, who can give you all that you could ever desire and-” 

aemond’s voice is hoarse at this point, as though his vocal chords were just as strained as his heart strings. tears of his own began to cloud his own vision, throat constricting under their weight as he tries and fails to swallow down the pain in his voice.

“show me,” you say in the wake of his pause, perfect lips pouted as you try in vain to hold back a sob. 

it is aemond’s turn to be confused then. why would you, sweet, beautiful and kind you, wish to not only waste your time with him in the gardens, sharing kisses that tore aemond’s soul into shreds of contrasting regret and elation, but to gaze upon his life’s greatest horror as well? why would you wish to expose yourself to such offending ugliness?

“i love you, aemond,” you say then, the same desperation straining your voice the way it had aemond’s mere seconds ago.“and i can't pretend that you don't occupy my every waking thought, that you do not fill my soul with undeniable and unwavering happiness. i can't pretend that your beauty doesn’t rivals that of the stars themselves. so just show me.”

your name falls from his lips, but it is a mere whisper upon his tongue. 

“it is not pretty.”

“aemond,” you say then, “please?”

aemond finds he cannot bare to see the heartbreak in your eyes for much longer, and so he bends to your whim for what was likely to be his last and final time. he pulls the leather patch from his eye with careful, deft movements that wouldn’t allow for any lingering hesitation, to reveal the sapphire gleaming in place of his other eye.

a short gasp fell from your lips then, followed by a shaky exhale that had the tears burning in the corners of aemond’s eyes finally blur what remained of his field of vision. his sharp mind worked desperately to recount and commit the feel of your lips moving upon his to memory, as aemond feared he would no longer be the subject of your time and affections now that you had truly seen him — all of him.

the feeling of the leather sliding against his fingertips as it fell through numb hands to the ground by his feet barely even registering, the pain in his heart too great. he didn’t even feel the usual relief of his long platinum and silver hair falling in silken curtains as you reached and released it from the little leather cord that kept his hair neat beneath the strap of his eyepatch.

"i love you. unequivocally, unfailingly and wholly so," you say finally, your thumb roving the taught skin of his scarred cheek with holy-like reverence. his single violet eye dared to meet yours then, and aemond could feel his heart skip a beat. tears had begun to fall down the sweet slope of your cheek, and yet you still held his gaze with unwavering softness.“do not tell me that you are undeserving of my attentions. i will decide who i deem worthy of my heart, and i swear to you, aemond targaryen: not one man in all of westeros and the free cities combined could ever be more deserving of it than you.”

a silence falls then, and you press a hasty kiss to his lips once more - petal soft lips nestling into the curve of petal soft lips, teeth clasing against teeth, love pouring into each other’s hearts. an upward quirk of your lip has aemond’s self-loathing surrendering under your tender hand, and the fall of it back into quivering sadness has him swearing — to the mother, the father, the stranger, whoever may have been watching over him in that moment — that he would never do such a profound disservice to your loving heart for as long as he should live.

"my king of my heart."

the endearment fell into what little air kept aemond at bay from you with such ease, and yet, here aemond was — a fool trying to convince himself that you did not love him, that you couldn’t possibly love someone such as himself, despite your every effort to lay the intentions of your heart bare before him to prove the extent of your love, true and sweet and wonderful, to him. 

oh, the seven damn him.

"darling," he managed to croak, the endearment falling from his mouth with more emotion than aemond had ever shown in his life, the weight of his love heavy on his tongue. 

aemond couldn’t help but envelope you wholly in a hug right then and there. his sturdy arms ensnared themselves with your being once more, hands finding the base of your skull and the supple curve of your hip, hidden to him by the curve of your luscious skirts, to gently pull you into him before he buried himself into the most passionate embrace he could possibly muster, as though it would make you see that passion and devotion that burnt like dragonfire in his soul for you and the love which he too held in his heart of hearts for you, and you alone..

and when he finally releases you, with tears of happiness gleaming in his violet eye, the sun shining in the sapphire of his other, and a heated blush dusting the paleness of his sharp, aquiline nose and accented cheekbones, he can't help but smile and huff a laugh through the constriction his tears held upon his throat. he brushes away the tears of your pain and your hurt with gentle thumbs before placing the first of many reverent kisses to your forehead as a final realization hit him — as though it were an enlightenment gifted to him by the seven themselves. 

he couldn’t remember the last time he had ever truly smiled for anyone but you. 

you - his girl of flowers and sunshine, his darling who had tended to the flames burning hot in his dragon veins for years despite his lack of acknowledgment, his lady of kindness and sweet, unbowing reverence, his beauty, his most beloved friend — smiled then, and aemond swore he saw the stars themselves shining in your gaze, shining all for him.

you.

"marry me," he pleads then, hands wholly enveloping your own as he gently takes them and places a kiss to the very fingers that had woven him a crown of pure intention, everlasting love and the strength and power of your heart. "please, my sweet girl, i have been such a fool, all these years, and i… i -”

“yes. yes, i know exactly,” you laughed breathlessly. “i thought you would never ask, my dearest love.”

[swallowerofdharma]

Stat rosa luna pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus

Fuck me I wanted to analyze “the symbolism of the moon” in Berserk… because it was an image so often associated with Griffith but also Guts. How naive of me to think that it would be a simple matter of looking into it a bit.

I was wrong because the whole topic of “the symbolism of the moon” turned out to be pretty much huge and a big part of the whole world building, or the cosmogony behind it, obviously. It is far for superficial, far from be only a lyrical motif or one half of the key elements of the eclipse.

While I am still researching the subject and organizing my thoughts - I wanted to share something minor that has been on my mind for a long time now.

A while ago I asked a friend who knows a little Japanese if they thought that Guts name would make them think of the moon. Because I had this image saved, from the end of one of my favorite chapters, chapter 250, that made me think of it. I think it was a beautiful representation of Griffith’s isolation - isolation or alienation is a theme in the chapter itself explored through the characters of Sonia and Irvine. And I also thought that it was a reminder of the calling of Moonlight Boy: the approaching of the full moon* when Griffith would indulge his inner child and reunite with Casca and Guts. (*In the panel the phase represented is a waxing gibbous moon, between a half moon and a full moon).

The reason I asked is because I was thinking of the kanji there in the page, overlaid with it, because it was a very easy association to do, with thinking about the representation of the passing of the time through the lunar calendar:

“Please note that the original Japanese calendar, like some others in Asia, was the lunar calendar, based on the moon’s movement, so the moon’s kanji 月 also means month. The pronunciation of the kanji 月 is “tsuki” (つき) in its kun’yomi (Japanese reading) and “gatsu” (ガツ) or “getsu” (ゲツ) in its on’yomi (Chinese reading). The shape of this kanji is rather simple, and its shape has a clear origin”. (source)

This is what I was seeing basically 👆

And I thought it is easy enough if you have studied the kanji to see it in the moon that Miura depicted above Griffith. And it is also maybe not so strange to wonder what’s on his mind at the end of that chapter. There are no words or sound effects in that page, it’s like a full page illustration. My mind kind of conjured the words and at the same time the fact that Griffith here might as well be thinking about Guts/the time passing=gatsu until he would go see him.

I know that Miura writes Guts’s name in katakana ガッツ gattsu, as if it’s supposed to sound and be read as a foreign name, but I believe it is also used as a term borrowed from English and used for example in the expression ガッツポーズ (gattsupōzu) meaning “triumphant pose assumed by an athlete”. The English word has several different implications or figurative meanings (and Japanese thinking is very often spontaneously figurative because of the writing system). It means bowels first, but it also refers to inner workings that happen in our entrails, internal organs and the figurative meaning of courage, nerve, determination also is commonly associated with the expression having the guts (=possessing the inner workings in order to do something hard successfully). But it also indicates something or someone reactive or reacting without thinking: guts instincts. And all this makes sense to the type of character Guts is: his physicality, his stance, his personality. I’ll also add it here how it could also be a name for someone who doesn’t use his head much, but this isn’t intended as an insult, but as an anticipation of another part of the analysis about “the symbolism of the moon” that will follow.

Of course my friend answered negatively, they didn’t think it was common to associate the image of the moon with the sound gatsu. And I also thought that maybe I was simply misguided because for a long time I had the Italian version of Berserk where the name was transliterated “faithfully” as Gatsu instead of Guts (the friend I asked is an American). But then again, the names of the months in contemporary Japanese are formed by numbers (1 through 12) + gatsu=month=one moon circle approximately and the kanji used is still 月. For example 一月 ichigatsu is the first month January, 二月 nigatsu is February.

So 月 is also commonly written or read gatsu as a very common occurrence, for example when you write down dates. It is probably a stretch, but let me know what you think!

In conclusion, you see now where I was going with this lol?

Count this image as Griffith/Guts too! (You thought this was very serious, didn’t you?). Griffith is looking forward for the full moon to go see Guts in particular, while the Moonlight Boy is the part that is tied to Casca. And chapter 250 is just exceptionally good. Maybe this will inspire someone to revisit it.

[disruptivevoib]

I am eternally thinking about how Whole is a concept of the fandom and not canonical at all.

Arguably, maybe someone would say the inclusion of Whole diminishes the original message of the album, to which I do not disagree but I do not agree either.

He changes the context of it, I suppose?

Because the original album, Whole is a concept to be strived for. He is not real, it is always just Heart, Mind, and Soul beneath the surface. They are manifested facilities of the way a person is, how they talk to themselves, the internal conversation. That "psychosocial envy" is the idea of the album. The effect that social standards have on someone who views themself as flawed beyond recognition without any idea how to fit into what the world wants of them.

Soul longs to be Whole because he longs to become what society deems is a person. All of what they are and what they want to be comes in many different forms. It could be any number of internalized ideals of what a man should be, or who you should love, or what you should strive for in life.

Two Wuv as a song is that realization that even after Mind and Heart are better, after they've been able to communicate and function "properly", there is no Whole coming. This is who they are, and that is fine. He is not perfect, he is not what society wants, but he IS a person, and to him, he is Whole.

It is a concept of self forgiveness and grace. The ability to have nuance that what society seeks of you is not so important as truth of the self, owning your flaws and seeming imperfections.

Ultimately, everyone's brain runs differently. Everyone talks to themselves differently, refers to and conceptualizes their inner-world in many ways, and none of it is definable. We have no capable way of putting the way somebody speaks to themself, refers to, and functions within themselves entirely into a box. We are a collection of lived experiences turning itself into informed reactions and responses. If that makes any sense at all.

Of course, the things we have put labels to are definable and are all a part of how we interact with ourself, and there are always commonalities and similarities. There is so much variety in it, being human is fluid...

Anyways.

Without Whole, the "end" of the album means they are in acceptance of one another, that there is a positive relationship with your inner dialogue for some time before something happens and causes a harsh reflection to shatter it all. With him, it is essentially the same, just that there is a more literal or tangible figure to represent that cohesive self-acceptance.

Whole being a tangible character doesn't change Soul, but as I said, informs him more. Whole and Soul are mirror images, they are had to separate and Soul is what Whole is without the interwoven Emotion and Thought.. I suppose. Soul strives for him, and without him, comes to accept this is how it is and who he is. With him, Soul may miss that aspect, or more so, get it only to discover Whole is real, and everything he did worked, but now he sacrifices himself for that.

The dynamic is interesting but incredibly devastating in that regard, especially because it is unlikely Whole's intention to ever split. Nobody wants to have a mental breakdown, y'know?

I could go on about this forever. Whole not being a real character (at least not in the way we often think of him) in the album but something very real and even achievable within the fandom space is.. I dunno, so unique? Its not often fans get to create something that while entirely uncanon to the project, is very important to it.

Side note, what I mean by not how we see him is that Whole is real because they have always been Whole. In album there is no separation. If anything, Concord is like leaving CJ's inner dialogue and witnessing just all of them in tandem being him.

Okay okay. I'm done.

[cellarspider]

7/30 germs.

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We return to a movie that disrespects the archaeological importance of roads, Prometheus.

I am still not over that. I will never be over that.

This time, content warnings for continuing frat boy archaeology, cringeful application of racist terms to lily-white androids, me screeching about site contamination some more, and Apollo’s dodgeball striking this movie with a glancing blow about masking.

So, back in the theater in 2012, I had already lost sympathy for the cast. They were being set up as stock horror movie characters, they were doing their jobs in a way with a certain flair for the incompetent.

And one of them, I suspect, the movie intends to make into a “flawed but you feel for him” kind of guy. Or, I hope they intended to make him “the guy in the slasher movie who you hate and want to see die”. That’s Holloway, one of the two archaeologists. He’s robot racist.

Like, seriously robot racist. The whole crew is, David literally gets referred to as “boy” here, which isn’t so much a dogwhistle as a tornado siren. No wonder David is quietly starting to show his disdain for the human crew.

“They're making you guys pretty close [to human now], huh?”

“Not too close, I hope.”

One of the few themes the movie handles halfway competently is the parallel between the humans stumbling all over themselves as they rush to go meet their makers, while David is already experiencing the disappointment of actually meeting his, and finding out they’re a bunch of clueless assholes. Are we supposed to believe the same of the Engineers? I don’t know. They definitely think of humans as lesser, though. More to come on that later.

Because right now, an expedition is barrelling toward the alien structure–again, driving all over the FCKING ALIEN ROAD–and they’re doing it with only six hours of daylight left, because Holloway literally says “It's Christmas [...] and I want to open my presents.”

I cannot communicate how heinous this character felt. The actor did a perfectly fine job playing him, but if Charlie Holloway was real, his name would be said with the same venom as that of the man pictured below: Heinrich Schliemann, the man who found the real, actual city of Troy, and immediately dynamited a trench through the royal palace, destroying who knows how many artifacts from the period the Iliad was based off of. Yes, I picked out the most assholish-looking photo of him I could find on purpose.

Also, Holloway’s an anti-masker, apparently.

I’m going to step back for just one second and list the one practical, movie budget reason why characters might take their helmets off. The costume designers did an admirable job coming up with something that fits the general requirement of a helmet in major studio releases, prior to The Mandalorian: make the actor’s faces completely visible, because without actors with a strong sense of physical presence and voice acting, you’ll lose connection with the audience.

They did a great job with that. Unfortunately, shiny helmets are a bastard to digitally edit film crew out of. 

It’s not impossible to place lights and crew so that the audience won’t notice them. Alien certainly pulled it off. Clear plastic elements in helmets also mean other logistical challenges, though: fogging being the main one. This, and cooking your actors in a fishbowl under studio lights.

Both problems can be simultaneously combated by installing A/C fans within the helmets, but because these helmets are entirely clear, you’re limited to hiding them down near the neck, and anybody who’s done similar for a cosplay or suit will know that it’s potentially noisy and not always effective. You can actually see condensate on the helmets in the movie, though whether that’s from the actor’s breath or a deliberate choice, I don’t know.

All this adds up to increased time resetting actors (i.e. cleaning sweat off of them without disrupting their makeup), more exhaustion from said actors, and the worry that the highest-paid, plot-critical actors may decide they don’t want to do a sequel if the shooting experience is too physically unhealthy.

And then there’s also more time spent carefully arranging crew and lights to hide their reflections, or more time making some poor VFX artist erase a transparent, curved reflection from frame and replace it with something else, or make the actors more comfortable by adding the glass in later with CGI, at the potential loss of some realism. The average modern movie studio would choose one of these VFX-driven options and demand it done in a week, which is why VFX artists need to unionize.

So. I understand at least a few logistical reasons why you don’t tend to make actors wear helmets for too many shooting days. But it has to be balanced with the story. It has to feel believable. It has to fit the story. It has to not make your characters look like mud-witted morons.

As soon as they find liquid water and the oh-so-deadly CO2 levels start to drop, Holloway takes his helmet off.

“Don't be an idiot.”

“Don't be a skeptic.”

Flames on the side of my goddamn face.

Now, this is the moment a lot of people lost sympathy for the human characters, even back in 2012. It was a dumbass idea even then, in the pre-’rona years. Sadly, Millburn the biologist isn’t written smart enough to punch Holloway in the nuts over even thinking of doing this, because we have two problems with what Holloway’s doing here: Biology, and biology.

First, biology.

(https://www.turbosquid.com/3d-models/13-viruses-virus-3d-model/1071200)

Obviously, they don’t know if anything’s in the air. He could find out that humans are deathly allergic to alien dust mites. He could have just caught himself a case of space covid, which he and the lemmings that follow him can then transmit to the entire crew if he’s not kept in quarantine. They can sterilize the sealed suits, but they can’t sterilize the inside of his lungs. Yet.

Second, biology. 

Specifically, Earth biology. Do you know how carefully modern space agencies sterilize anything that’s headed for Mars, or anywhere else that might have a biosphere of its own? A lot! They sterilize everything a lot! Because microbes are hardy little bastards. We’ve never found extraterrestrial life, only precursor molecules that show the capacity for life to develop in other places. How are you going to verify you’ve found alien life, or even those precursors, if you can’t prove that your samples are uncontaminated? What happens if microbes from Earth manage to survive the trip and establish a foothold somewhere? What if they destroy native life?

This movie’s characters treat this with only a fraction of the gravitas that the cinematography does, which is part of why this remains so jarring throughout. The practical sets, the art direction, and the camerawork are all excellent. The editing continues to do its best, though it almost feels like things were cut very tight through this to speed things along and to give more time, unfortunately, to what the characters are doing. 

their crimes against my sanity are not done yet

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As a side note, rounding up some discussion from a previous entry: The most excellent artist @noordzee pointed out that the clashing artistic style of the moon and stars slapped onto the carving of Kʼinich Janaab Pakal I. In the previous post, I focused on the link between that carving and its use in ancient aliens conspiracy theories. But let's dig a bit into actual Maya iconography around celestial bodies instead.

Now, I am not an expert on Classical Maya stuff. Not in the slightest. And there is a lot of information on their art that is linguistically inaccessible to me, as a non-Spanish speaker. But out of the Maya art and writing that survived the book-burning conquistadors, we have some iconography for the moon and stars, and they don’t look like what’s in the movie.

I wasn’t able to find any specific pieces of art that contained stars, but I did find the glyph for star, ek’. 

I was only able to find depictions of a crescent moon in the context of the moon goddess, where she tends to be sitting on the crescent like a chair, or one part of it is shown behind her, almost like a tail (though I can’t be certain whether that’s due to chipped paint).

The moon by itself was somewhat harder to find. I couldn’t find any Maya depictions of it with my limited poking around of the spanish internet, but I did find a (much later) Mixtec depiction of the moon, complete with a lunar rabbit! Much like East Asian cultures, the darker markings on the moon are culturally interpreted as a rabbit shape.

Thanks again to nordzee for pointing out the dissonant art style, because the real mesoamerican art on this subject is phenomenal.

Next time, the movie will hurt me more, so if anybody else has fun facts to share or details to point out. PLEASE. Ease my pain.

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Alt text citations:

None this time. Many ramblings, though.