#but its so vague you can make 'the system' be whatever you want it to be ykwim

[canichangemyblogname]

I finally saw the Barbie Movie and it was… really just a movie. Gave me something to do for two hours, but it didn’t feel substantive. Had some good messaging for women who needed to hear the same message the “brainwashed” Barbies needed to hear, even though that concept sounds patronizing now that I’m putting words to it. I have other thoughts, but voicing them feels a little like beating a dead horse. Women far smarter than I have provided incredibly cutting critiques of this movie and its portrayal white feminism, girlboss feminism, and capitalistic feminism.

[wedding-shemp]

Right wingers being obsessed with the matrix isn't embarrassing because it was made by trans women, it's embarrassing because the matrix is a deeply silly movie. I feel like this is a point that's gotten lost over the years. the matrix is goofy as all get out and it's very funny that so many people have based their deranged quasifacist ideology on a movie where lawrence fishburn teaches keaunu reeves to fly

[nebbys-personal-nebula]

the biggest, most copium agent 4 theory from this clown of an agent four enjoyer

apologies for the wait on this! i wanted to unlock all of the dev diaries to make sure i could squeeze out every last bit of lore...

anyways SIDE ORDER SPOILERS INCLUDING POSTGAME

so let's start with the common knowledge. most people know by this point that agent 4 has a palette. it's one of the first you get in the game, after pearl and marina's. to the surprise of nobody, it is a splattershot...

according to what marina says about the memverse, palettes are a portion of a person's soul dragged into the memverse. so agent 4's soul got dragged in here somehow. how did this happen, and why? there are a few possibilities...

marina mentions in her eighth dev diary that she needs someone to handle system security. she writes: "maybe i can ask that person cuttlefish introduced me to for help there." this is still pretty vague, but we know from smollusk's note on agent 4's palette that it is definitely agent 4. quote:

"THIS is who mawina wanted in charge of memverse security? this unfwappable, free-spirited so-and-so? i would never abide it!"

the question is: if agent 4 was intended to be security for the memverse, then where are they? this leads us to the parallel canon boss!

note that figure in the center. even though all descriptions for this boss describe it as "a lot like eight", it is clearly an inkling with its pointed ears and hair.

the hairstyle is significant, too. all art of this boss, including its icon, display it with the "haircut" style. why does this matter? because official art of agent 4 also uses this style:

on top of that, people have reported that if you have splatoon 2 save data on your switch, the boss will use whatever hairstyle your inkling uses in that game (with that inkling, of course, being agent 4). unfortunately, i forgot to take a screenshot of my save, but maybe someone could reblog this and confirm?

another thing to note about that agent 4-looking robot in the center is that they're wielding the order shot, which is the same weapon you get from agent 4's palette.

so what exactly am i getting at with all this? let's read a little more of smollusk's notes on agent 4...

"buut...no weason such stwength shouldn't be used to pwotect a world of order. an order defense force is MUCH cooler than a new squidbeak splatoon anyway!"

this phrasing is particularly interesting to me because it implies smollusk wants to, or already has utilized agent 4's strength in some way. additionally, smollusk regards fans of chaos in a very similar way. for almost all of them, he argues they must be "punished". examples:

"she must be PUNISHED!" - callie's palette

"her chaotic lies must be PUNISHED!" - shiver's palette

"for the sake of order, they all must be PUNISHED!" - frye's palette

"it annoys me, so he must be PUNISHED!" - big man's palette

"he must be PUNISHED!" - sheldon's palette

"i sentence him to PUNISHMENT!" - dj octavio's palette

almost all of these characters are on the side of "chaos". callie and dj octavio were on the chaos side of the final fest, while shiver, frye, and big man rep the splatlands, basically the land of chaos. no idea what smollusk's beef is with sheldon though that guy was neutral LOL

on the other hand, smollusk is notably softer with characters on the side of "order", like marie, murch, and marina (obviously). he still critiques them, but he doesn't sentence them to "punishment".

agent 4 was on the side of chaos in the final fest. so why didn't smollusk sentence them to "punishment"?

perhaps it's because smollusk is already making use of them...by using their soul to control the parallel canon boss!

think about it! the bosses of the tower are basically security, right? they keep you from reaching the top! since smollusk knows from marina that agent 4 was meant to be security, it could have pulled in their soul to fulfill that job. that's why agent 4's palette is there, and that's why we don't physically see them in the dlc! because they're grayscaled in the outside world!

…it is also definitely possible that the boss is just INSPIRED by agent 4, taken from marina's memories, or something like that. but i like this theory because it explains why agent 4's soul ended up in the memverse.

one other thing - i think the popular opinion is that the parallel canon boss are "robots", due to the way they move, their eyes glowing, the filter on their voice, etc...this is probably true, but have you ever wondered if the boss is actually a real inkling (a digital…real…inkling? you get the idea) if it was just a robot like the others, why would it specifically have ears and hair? not only that, but you can get the parallel mask from the priz shop:

which you wear on your face. what if this is the real agent four, wearing this parallel mask? their gray coloring could be because they're grayscaled! after all, we never actually see a representation of grayscaling in-game. the name implies that they'd actually turn gray in some way, maybe in the color of their tentacles. but this could be the most dramatic extent of it!

this is definitely a stretch, but you can consider it food for the die-hard agent 4 angsters out there. love you guys <3

feel free to reblog if you have thoughts, add-ons or even counterpoints! i find this all really interesting

[physalian]

8 Signs your Sequel Needs Work

Sequels, and followup seasons to TV shows, can be very tricky to get right. Most of the time, especially with the onslaught of sequels, remakes, and remake-quels over the past… 15 years? There’s a few stand-outs for sure. I hear Dune Part 2 stuck the landing. Everyone who likes John Wick also likes those sequels. Spiderverse 2 also stuck the landing.

These are less tips and more fundamental pieces of your story that may or may not factor in because every work is different, and this is coming from an audience’s perspective. Maybe some of these will be the flaws you just couldn’t put your finger on before. And, of course, these are all my opinions, for sequels and later seasons that just didn’t work for me.

1. Your vague lore becomes a gimmick

The Force, this mysterious entity that needs no further explanation… is now quantifiable with midichlorians.

In The 100, the little chip that contains the “reincarnation” of the Commanders is now the central plot to their season 6 “invasion of the bodysnatchers” villains.

In The Vampire Diaries, the existence of the “emotion switch” is explicitly disputed as even existing in the earlier seasons, then becomes a very real and physical plot point one can toggle on and off.

I love hard magic systems. I love soft magic systems, too. These two are not evolutions of each other and doing so will ruin your magic system. People fell in love with the hard magic because they liked the rules, the rules made sense, and everything you wrote fit within those rules. Don’t get wacky and suddenly start inventing new rules that break your old ones.

People fell in love with the soft magic because it needed no rules, the magic made sense without overtaking the story or creating plot holes for why it didn’t just save the day. Don’t give your audience everything they never needed to know and impose limitations that didn’t need to be there.

Solving the mystery will never be as satisfying as whatever the reader came up with in their mind. Satisfaction is the death of desire.

2. The established theme becomes un-established

I talked about this point already in this post about theme so the abridged version here: If your story has major themes you’ve set out to explore, like “the dichotomy of good and evil” and you abandon that theme either for a contradictory one, or no theme at all, your sequel will feel less polished and meaningful than its predecessor, because the new story doesn’t have as much (if anything) to say, while the original did.

Jurassic Park is a fantastic, stellar example. First movie is about the folly of human arrogance and the inherent disaster and hubris in thinking one can control forces of nature for superficial gains. The sequels, and then sequel series, never returns to this theme (and also stops remembering that dinosaurs are animals, not generic movie monsters). JP wasn’t just scary because ahhh big scary reptiles. JP was scary because the story is an easily preventable tragedy, and yes the dinosaurs are eating people, but the people only have other people to blame. Dinosaurs are just hungry, frightened animals.

Or, the most obvious example in Pixar’s history: Cars to Cars 2.

3. You focus on the wrong elements based on ‘fan feedback’

We love fans. Fans make us money. Fans do not know what they want out of a sequel. Fans will never know what they want out of a sequel, nor will studios know how to interpret those wants. Ask Star Wars. Heck, ask the last 8 books out of the Percy Jackson universe.

Going back to Cars 2 (and why I loathe the concept of comedic relief characters, truly), Disney saw dollar signs with how popular Mater was, so, logically, they gave fans more Mater. They gave us more car gimmicks, they expanded the lore that no one asked for. They did try to give us new pretty racing venues and new cool characters. The writers really did try, but some random Suit decided a car spy thriller was better and this is what we got.

The elements your sequel focuses on could be points 1 or 2, based on reception. If your audience universally hates a character for legitimate reasons, maybe listen, but if your audience is at war with itself over superficial BS like whether or not she’s a female character, or POC, ignore them and write the character you set out to write. Maybe their arc wasn’t finished yet, and they had a really cool story that never got told.

This could be side-characters, or a specific location/pocket of worldbuilding that really resonated, a romantic subplot, whatever. Point is, careening off your plan without considering the consequences doesn’t usually end well.

4. You don’t focus on the ‘right’ elements

I don’t think anyone out there will happily sit down and enjoy the entirety of Thor: The Dark World.  The only reasons I would watch that movie now are because a couple of the jokes are funny, and the whole bit in the middle with Thor and Loki. Why wasn’t this the whole movie? No one cares about the lore, but people really loved Loki, especially when there wasn’t much about him in the MCU at the time, and taking a villain fresh off his big hit with the first Avengers and throwing him in a reluctant “enemy of my enemy” plot for this entire movie would have been amazing.

Loki also refuses to stay dead because he’s too popular, thus we get a cyclical and frustrating arc where he only has development when the producers demand so they can make maximum profit off his character, but back then, in phase 2 world, the mystery around Loki was what made him so compelling and the drama around those two on screen was really good! They bounced so well off each other, they both had very different strengths and perspectives, both had real grievances to air, and in that movie, they *both* lost their mother. It’s not even that it’s a bad sequel, it’s just a plain bad movie.

The movie exists to keep establishing the Infinity Stones with the red one and I can’t remember what the red one does at this point, but it could have so easily done both. The powers that be should have known their strongest elements were Thor and Loki and their relationship, and run with it.

This isn’t “give into the demands of fans who want more Loki” it’s being smart enough to look at your own work and suss out what you think the most intriguing elements are and which have the most room and potential to grow (and also test audiences and beta readers to tell you the ugly truth). Sequels should feel more like natural continuations of the original story, not shameless cash grabs.

5. You walk back character development for ~drama~

As in, characters who got together at the end of book 1 suddenly start fighting because the “will they/won’t they” was the juiciest dynamic of their relationship and you don’t know how to write a compelling, happy couple. Or a character who overcame their snobbery, cowardice, grizzled nature, or phobia suddenly has it again because, again, that was the most compelling part of their character and you don’t know who they are without it.

To be honest, yeah, the buildup of a relationship does tend to be more entertaining in media, but that’s also because solid, respectful, healthy relationships in media are a rarity. Season 1 of Outlander remains the best, in part because of the rapid growth of the main love interest’s relationship. Every season after, they’re already married, already together, and occasionally dealing with baby shenanigans, and it’s them against the world and, yeah, I got bored.

There’s just so much you can do with a freshly established relationship: Those two are a *team* now. The drama and intrigue no longer comes from them against each other, it’s them together against a new antagonist and their different approaches to solving a problem. They can and should still have distinct personalities and perspectives on whatever story you throw them into.

6. It’s the same exact story, just Bigger

I have been sitting on a “how to scale power” post for months now because I’m still not sure on reception but here’s a little bit on what I mean.

Original: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy New York

Sequel: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy the planet

Threequel: Oh no, the big bad guy wants to destroy the galaxy

You knew it wasn’t going to happen the first time, you absolutely know it won’t happen on a bigger scale. Usually, when this happens, plot holes abound. You end up deleting or forgetting about characters’ convenient powers and abilities, deleting or forgetting about established relationships and new ground gained with side characters and entities, and deleting or forgetting about stakes, themes, and actually growing your characters like this isn’t the exact same story, just Bigger.

How many Bond movies are there? Thirty-something? I know some are very, very good and some are not at all good. They’re all Bond movies. People keep watching them because they’re formulaic, but there’s also been seven Bond actors and the movies aren’t one long, continuous, self-referential story about this poor, poor man who has the worst luck in the universe. These sequels aren’t “this but bigger” it’s usually “this, but different”, which is almost always better.

“This, but different now” will demand a different skillset from your hero, different rules to play by, different expectations, and different stakes. It does not just demand your hero learn to punch harder.

Example: Lord Shen from Kung Fu Panda 2 does have more influence than Tai Lung, yes. He’s got a whole city and his backstory is further-reaching, but he’s objectively worse in close combat—so he doesn’t fistfight Po. He has cannons, very dangerous cannons, cannons designed to be so strong that kung fu doesn’t matter. Thus, he’s not necessarily “bigger” he’s just “different” and his whole story demands new perspective.

The differences between Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi are numerous, but the latter relies on “but bigger” and the former went in a whole new direction, while still staying faithful to the themes of the original.

7. It undermines the original by awakening a new problem too soon

I’ve already complained about the mere existence of Heroes of Olympus elsewhere because everything Luke fought and died for only bought that world about a month of peace before the gods came and ripped it all away for More Story.

I’ve also complained that the Star Wars Sequels were always going to spit in the face of a character’s six-movie legacy to bring balance to the Force by just going… nah. Ancient prophecy? Only bought us about 30 years of peace.

Whether it’s too soon, or it’s too closely related to the original, your audience is going to feel a little put-off when they realize how inconsequential this sequel makes the original, particularly in TV shows that run too many seasons and can’t keep upping the ante, like Supernatural.

Kung Fu Panda once again because these two movies are amazing. Shen is completely unrelated to Tai Lung. He’s not threatening the Valley of Peace or Shifu or Oogway or anything the heroes fought for in the original. He’s brand new.

My yearning to see these two on screen together to just watch them verbally spat over both being bratty children disappointed by their parents is unquantifiable. This movie is a damn near perfect sequel. Somebody write me fanfic with these two throwing hands over their drastically different perspectives on kung fu.

8. It’s so divorced from the original that it can barely even be called a sequel

Otherwise known as seasons 5 and 6 of Lost. Otherwise known as: This show was on a sci-fi trajectory and something catastrophic happened to cause a dramatic hairpin turn off that path and into pseudo-biblical territory. Why did it all end in a church? I’m not joking, they did actually abandon The Plan while in a mach 1 nosedive.

I also have a post I’ve been sitting on about how to handle faith in fiction, so I’ll say this: The premise of Lost was the trials and escapades of a group of 48 strangers trying to survive and find rescue off a mysterious island with some creepy, sciency shenanigans going on once they discover that the island isn’t actually uninhabited.

Season 6 is about finding “candidates” to replace the island’s Discount Jesus who serves as the ambassador-protector of the island, who is also immortal until he’s not, and the island becomes a kind of purgatory where they all actually did die in the crash and were just waiting to… die again and go to heaven. Spoiler Alert.

This is also otherwise known as: Oh sh*t, Warner Bros wants more Supernatural? But we wrapped it up so nicely with Sam and Adam in the box with Lucifer. I tried to watch one of those YouTube compilations of Cas’ funny moments because I haven’t seen every episode, and the misery on these actors’ faces as the compilation advanced through the seasons, all the joy and wit sucked from their performances, was just tragic.

I get it. Writers can’t control when the Powers That Be demand More Story so they can run their workhorse into the ground until it stops bleeding money, but if you aren’t controlled by said powers, either take it all back to basics, like Cars 3, or just stop.

—

Sometimes taking your established characters and throwing them into a completely unrecognizable story works, but those unrecongizable stories work that much harder to at least keep the characters' development and progression satisfying and familiar. See this post about timeskips that take generational gaps between the original and the sequel, and still deliver on a satisfying continuation.

TLDR: Sequels are hard and it’s never just one detail that makes them difficult to pull off. They will always be compared to their predecessors, always with the expectations to be as good as or surpass the original, when the original had no such competition. There’s also audience expectations for how they think the story, lore, and relationships should progress. Most faults of sequels, in my opinion, lie in straying too far from the fundamentals of the original without understanding why those fundamentals were so important to the original’s success.

[imma-write-stuff]

Dragon S/O Who Can’t Use Magic Getting Bullied (Riddle, Leona, and Malleus)

Background: Y/N is a fae dragon like Malleus but can’t use magic and has been picked for it.

CW: Vague talks of bullying, some spoilers of Leona’s past,

Riddle

- That’s a way off pissing Riddle off and getting a collar from him. The bully won’t be casting magic for awhile.

- “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

- Riddle will take you to the Heartslabyul dorm away from the bully and even let you stay in his room. He isn't the greatest with comfort but he'll let you vent, cry, or whatever you do to let it out of your system as long its not hurting you.

- Will make you some calming tea and get you a tart if you want it. This may end up with you spending the night in his room.

- Riddle will remind you not to be hard on yourself just because you can’t use magic. He won’t let any idiots take you down.

Leona

- Congrats to the bully, by picking on dragon s/o, you get an angry lion planning to hunt you down for what you did. I think out of everyone, Leona would be the least tolerant of bullies. (Well torwards people he cares about, I don’t see him having a lot of real friends.)

- And he would be the most understanding, hey he was bullied for being the second born prince and inferior to his brother.  Like Riddle, Leona isn’t the best at comforting but makes up for making the bully pay.

- If you ran off and hide somewhere to cry, Leona will look for you, he knows your scent well so it wouldn’t be a problem.

- He’ll take you to the garden or somewhere private to cuddle.

Malleus

- RIP bully you pissed off a another dragon, this time Malleus himself, run. (If you can run,)  Dragons are naturally protective of their mates, so the bully will have to be a total idiot to think its a good idea.

- While Malleus may not know what its like to be bullied or not have magic but I think he could be good at comforting you. One of the things you two enjoy is transforming into your dragon forms and fly.

- You two don’t talk you just quietly enjoy each others company Malleus knew you probably didn’t want to talk about it at all.

- He understands and lets you speak on your own time.

[rin-and-jade]

Gripped by Glue Trap: a Post about Front Stuck & Lock

I get it, there's no such thing as an actual big glue trap with being stuck outside as a system,, but oftentimes its gonna feel that way because whatever was done... that glue won't even struggle one bit, only we do. That frustration is what we all have when switching is not an option.

But do you ever think this glue is defeatable? It latches hard and wears you out the more you try to get out of the situation,, so you might think not.. yet i do! That's what this post is going to be about folks, getting your little bug-self free with my secret trick from another human glue trap ensnared in their house.

But.. what is it actually?

Generally, as a system, we facilitate each other's strengths and weaknesses by switching in and out, as all those parts are not wholly integrated compared to a singlet. And. Uh oh. You're stuck and can't get out? You're trapped!.. that little drop of sap caught your leg and now you couldn't leave, even if you wanted to. Though you still can express to your buddies that you need help or etc. (and, this is called front stuck)

Or sometimes, we can even get stranded away from our pack (as in stress, or anything that worsens internal communication), wondering alone, and stood on a nasty manmade trap that caught you without mercy. This time, you're immobile and out of reach to call for reinforcements (now, this one is called front lock)

Sap? Glue? What's the diff??

To put it simply, being stuck means being unable to get out from the front or surrender the control to another part. While being locked off is the worser version of being stuck because not only you cannot surrender the control, there is barely any stream of communication you can connect to, or nonexistent, head silent and all that.

The only similarity they have is how it greatly impedes the fronter's capability to ease in or out from front,, if not, impossible.

These two also happen for different possible reasons, such as:

↓ Stuck ↓ 

Unfinished tasks

Goal/wants not met yet

Ongoing role duty (for protectors, hosts, etc)

Reluctance handing control/fear of blacking out

Mild stressors (like anxiety)

.. and more

↓ Locked ↓

Dissociation

Fight/flight response

Overwhelm

Bigger stressors

Major life changes

Re-occurring trauma

.. and more

Just a reminder that all systems are different, and these same reasons that causes to be stuck/lock will result in an opposite reaction such as rapid switching or being blurry! This post is mainly for those who experience stuck/lock.

Then, how do i get my leg out?!

I can tell you that, but i have to explain how this ordeal happened in the first place so it'll make sense, bare with me;

You know the parasympathetic (rest) and sympathetic (fight/flight) response, yeah? These two responses flicks on depending when there's safety or presented threats. Now, DMN is a part of the parasympathetic response, the full name is Default Mode Network, which is fully responsible for.. well.. default stuffs such as mind wandering, planning, thinking inwards,, those typical things that happen when you're bored. This is also the reason you why can facilitate better communication with other parts compared to when, let's say, being busy with tasks.

Know it or not, sometimes our mind has to wander a little bit in order to chat with other parts of ourself, and stress snaps us out of that relaxed state in purpose of focusing whats at outside, rather than inside, which where everything system-y lies at. Some do not get affected and still can function as-if, so understand how your system works and use that to the advantage.

How to hack yourself from fight/flight to rest mode again? Via vagus nerve stimulation! Not sure if you ever heard of this word, but the vagus is one part of the cranial nerves that is responsible for the activation of this parasympathetic response..! It's like the oil to the glue, because it hijacks the adhesive properties with something so viscous that it binds to it instead of you!! --

Here are some activities you can do to disable the glue:

Gurgle water, hum, or sing: this is because the vagus is located around your neck, and can be easily stimulated that way.

Watch something: redirecting yourself with a distraction can ease you temporarily, giving time to calm down, which brings you out of the grips of stress.

Listen to music: another way if you don't have anything to watch, even better if you put on soothing, slower songs.

Move around: get those pented up anxiety or restlessness out! movement equals expression, this also activates the vagus nerve.

Breathe deeply: rebalance the vagus by breathing in and out slowly, this nerve is also responsible for your breathing pace too, so giving a little push of balance will create a domino effect for your nerve to work.

Unfocus your eyes: or, another way to do it is to focus more on the peripheral vision rather than the vocal point. This is a way to poke the same nerve's functions, oddly can work as a booster to make yourself slightly dissociated/disconnected which facilitates switches or a general break/distraction.

Solve/asses it: it will be nothing if you do not tackle the thing you are very stressed out about, which can extend how long you'll be stuck,, so use these tips above to regain self control and tackle them with me, or your trusted friends, or even alone after examining what could be done! Talking to someone also helps, even if there's nothing productive being done.

Take it easy and break it down: this one is if you're on a role job and things are being difficult, incase you're overwhelmed, remember to do it step by step, no need to be rash about getting back in first, that time will come as long you focus whats in front.

Remember, fight/flight brings us out from clarity and rational thinking, thanks to our limbic part of the brain who is primed for survival and instincts. Be more gentle with yourself, as you could be more irritable, moody, or resorting to less-safe coping mechanisms, focus on calming down before proceeding the situation.

Takeaway

So, what will you do if you're stuck next time? Don't forget to make a plan to deal this sticky situation, especially for those who are often stuck, this practice will practice your vagus nerve to be less susceptible, turning off because of stress,, giving you a better stress window and tolerance before succumbing once more.... to the good ol' glue.

Lastly, it is possible to be stuck/lock for months or years, which is an indicator of underlying long-term issues that needs to be addressed. If anyone needs some tips for this, ring me on the DMs as these practices rarely work for this type.

Oh, and, what do you guys think? What else i had not mentioned? Do you have anything to discuss with me on this topic? Let's do that! I hope this suffice in helping you tackle the next time problems arise.

Happy straddling lil' ant.

- j

[boundinparchment]

Let’s Fall Silent

He was created as a companion to a capricious dawn; rejected, he haunted the waters of Snezhnaya until he grew bored. Saved by a foolish inventor, he wonders if there is more to life than his rejected purpose.

Or: whatever happened to that merman Dottore segment?

Sequel to my fic, “Endless.”

RATING EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI. ON AO3 HERE.

Water rushed through his gills and oxygen flooded his system in steady, rolling waves.  He didn’t need to breathe but yet his body seemed perfectly suited to do so, yearned to.

He looked down, the shining blue scales of his tail resembling stones he knew only in name and vague understanding.  Knowledge that was not his but readily given, as if he’d already read ten thousand books.  Webs between his fingers were gossamer thin and yet seemed to catch and push water as if made of the strongest steel blades.  

His fingers looked as if he’d dipped them in the reflections of the night sky, scales shimmering and shifting with the light.  

There was a weight on his right ear, a glass tube that seemed to contain a type of water.  Touching it sent faint shockwaves through his fingers and head, voices echoing distantly.

He assessed his surroundings: a tall man with blue hair and a white coat, eyes hidden; a clear boundary between them; a flicker of sunset out of the corner of his eye.  The creature titled its head, the fins on either side of his head flitting with the motion.  

Creator.  Right.  His image was almost identical to the bipedal human before him.  Intended for…

He turned his head, garnet eyes falling in the direction he felt another presence.

A flash of a memory—not his—told him everything.

Rejected without ever having a chance.  The dawn would kill him for carrying out his purpose if he ever so much as approached her.  Understandably so.  Sensations welled up inside him, foreign and intruded upon, not his to feel.  Although the man on the other side of the glass (yes, that was the word) had made him, he was nothing but a vessel for wish-fulfillment.  A bridge built to cross a too-large gap.

His Creator was a curious man.  Whether he wanted to see the dawn’s reaction to the addition to her tank or because he was too far along in the process to stop didn’t matter to the finned mirror image.  The result was the same.  The merman was awake and contained every awareness that already, the tides had changed. 

An existential crisis was not on the agenda.  There was still plenty more to do.  An entire world outside of this tank.  The dawn came from somewhere, of course, and water was the necessity for all life.

He swam, gauged how far to move his arms and the proper movements of his tail.  Easy, fluid motions that allowed him to cut through water came from somewhere deeper than muscle memory.  Base instinct left little room for error.

“Our observation time is short, Nadir.  How do you feel?” 

The voice did not vibrate the water in the same fashion other sounds did.  The Creator’s mouth did not move as it did with her.  It felt as if the words floated in his mind like driftwood waiting to be collected.

And what was it he was called?  Nadir?  He was named?  Given an…identity?

He wracked his pre-filled memory banks.  The merman held back the biting laugh that threatened his lungs for a moment.  An amalgamation of both living creatures and he was named after the lowest point of the sun’s daily descent in the sky.  Arguably, he was also the lowest point in his Creator’s infatuation, given her blatant rejection of his attempt to give her companionship.

The man stared, awaiting a response.  His patience was thinning, lips pressed together.

“I am…fine.  I experience no pain.  I can see, hear, breathe, and move,” the Segment spoke.  

The sounds were strange and guttural and his mouth moved in unnatural motions.  His vocal cords did not like it.  They felt too loose and lacked control over the sounds.

“Can you not respond without moving your lips?  Without making a sound?” His Creator asked.

The merman, for he was beginning to understand the differences biologically and his own identity in more depth, schooled his expression and focused.  He tried to feel anything beyond himself, than the water on his skin that rippled his fins and the hum of the filtration system and the low hissing from the far corners of the tank network.  He could see his Creator, sense his presence in a physical understanding of him occupying space facing the tank.  Whispers crept up into his ear and throughout the base of his skull but it was akin to the way his Creator once pressed an ear to a closet door as a child.

One way.  He could listen and observe, distantly, but he could not partake.

All the better, really, Nadir considered.  The others were very loud and boisterous and clambering for attention.

The only attention the merman wanted was that of his intended companion.

But he was not eager to have his existence snuffed so quickly.

When Nadir did not reply, and instead shook his head, the man on the other side of the tank brought a hand to his lips.  Silence dominated.

Until the Creator’s shoulders rose and fell in a single motion when he reassessed what the Segment could only assume were notes. 

“Perhaps it is the medium required for your physical form that prevents the connection.  I had to make several modifications to account for waterproof mechanisms.  Sound travels differently in water.  It stands to reason that water would slow other waves down as well…”

The bipedal man dropped the papers with a flick of his wrist, uncaring and bored.  They were worthless now, in the face of recent events.  He approached the tank, arms behind his back.

“I am otherwise quite proud of this particular specimen, Fjar.  If he were to reside in the far reaches of the waters here, or live elsewhere, would you object?”

Ah, so that was her proper name.  The word was familiar, danced across his mind when he recalled memories of a name and another land.  Once again, none of it his .  Nadir had not existed properly until roughly twenty minutes ago.

The dawn spoke, her voice made for water, beautiful as the sunrise she represented.

“As long as he stays far away from me.  From us .  Your work is appreciated, my Zandik, but you know how I feel.  I will have you , not an imitation of you.  He will be safe provided he never approaches me.”

Nadir stared at his Creator, who raised his head a fraction before removing his mask.  Eyes as red as a blood moon watched the Segment in return.  Exhaustion tugged at the skin beneath his eyes and Nadir caught a flicker of hurt well-hidden behind a cold and calculating demeanor.

“There is no shortage of food and means to occupy yourself past the hole in the ice,” the man called Zandik said.  “Her territory does not extend past that delineation.  She has never been one to stray far from comfort.  I do not anticipate requiring your presence as I do the others, so you are free to go where you wish.”

The Creator returned his mask to his face and turned away from the tank before leaving the room.  He did not look back nor hesitate before he crossed the threshold and the door shut behind him.

Something constructed in Nadir’s chest and he could not, in all of the databanks and memories he was connected to, put a name to it.  It was not sharp, like a knife, but it persisted from his chest up through his throat and crawled over his tongue.  The sensation grew worse as the tank shimmered and flowed, the source obscured but unmistakable.  

The Segment dove and found the pipeline connected to the ocean depths.  His skin prickled as the temperature changed and the balance of minerals shifted.  

At first, he lingered.  How could he not?

The only other of his kind, manufactured though he was, lived in these waters.  He held memories of what it was to be on two legs and feet, feel sand between toes and the sun on a face that was his and yet not.  

The best way to learn and understand was to observe, watch, see what unfolded without interference.  

There was no point in staying where he was not wanted.  But if nothing else, such knowledge would help him survive elsewhere.

___________________

He grew bored within the year and set out from the reaches of the far north, with nothing but the currents and memories of maps as guides.  

Down here, beneath the ice and at such depth, hardly any sun reached through the frigid waters.  His Creator saw to it that his vision was intended for all environments but the winter months made it especially difficult when light was so infrequent.

The overworld was vast but the bodies of water were far larger still.  Nadir had the world between his fingertips.  Anywhere.  Everywhere.  He could go to the land of Freedom, where it was said the air was clear and the water even clearer; or perhaps to the reaches of the land of Eternity, where he might have better odds among the yokai; the nation of War was far too hot for his liking and the adepti of the land of Contracts were protective of their legacy.

His Creator spent time in…what was it…a fountain…ah, Fontaine!  Although the nation embodied Justice, it was said that all life sprang forth from the waters of the land of Hydro.   Zandik had enjoyed it there under a guise that had no name and was never recorded.  No doubt the waters would be crowded but of all nations, it seemed the most promising.

He stuck to the shadows of the water.  The voices at the base of his skull whispered, screamed, and shouted all the while.

Until one day, his ears began to ring after a muted pop and his vision went dark as he caught a glimpse of a waterfall in the moonlight.  ___________________

When he opened his eyes again, he felt rocks and silt beneath him.  Everything felt dry .  Disgustingly so, as if every water droplet was sucked from his entire being.  Something bright and painful winked down at him and with difficulty, he raised a hand to cover his eyes.

Pale strands of aquamarine hair clung to him, long and tangled.  Despite how arid everything felt, his hair continued to stick to everything.  When he was swimming, it didn’t matter much but now?  It just made his dry skin itchier.

He heard the splashing of water and his…tail, yes, that word seemed correct swayed with the soft current.  He couldn’t recall how he arrived here.  All he remembered was ringing, like high pressure, and darkness.

There was a sudden rustle and then another sound, foreign but soft.  

“Are you alright?”

He gritted his sharp teeth and lifted his arm.  What language were they even speaking ?  The light was now obscured and instantly his skin felt several degrees cooler.

His bleary garnet eyes focused on the object, no, person before him.  Backlit by the brilliant light in the sky (was that the sun?), he could make out wide eyes shot with concern but as stunning as gems, lips slightly parted as if to speak again, and colors framing you that he had no name for.

You.

You were beautiful.

He couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face as a distant sensation swam in his mind that another might be jealous of you.

“Can you speak?” you asked.

His throat was arid, his tongue thick and rough.  He dared not trust his vocal cords and instead shook his head, grits of sand embedding into his hair.

You made a sound that made his heart jump, a rush of air passing through your lungs that mimicked bells.  Your smile was apologetic, sweet in the way your lips curved and your expression conveyed your sincerity. 

“Silly question, this place is eternally dry and you clearly belong in the water.  Let’s at least get the rest of your lower half in the water first.  You’re too striking and handsome to dry out.”

Forward, too.  Had he met others like you before?

Your hands were warm, a little rougher, and with a little assistance, he was sitting upright with his tail properly in the water.  He was already feeling a bit better, even if his gills felt dry as they laid flat against his neck and his second respiratory pathways took over.  His hair, he realized, was much longer than he initially thought, tickling his back.

He watched as you pulled out a flask, opened it, and held it out to him.  His red eyes traced the line from the canteen, to your hands, your arm, and then your face.

Human.  You were human, same as…

Same as who?

“At least take a sip so your throat isn’t dry,” you prompted.  “It’s safe, I swear.”

He took it and put the metal to his lips, which he now realized were painfully cracked, and let the water pass across his tongue and down his throat.  The water tasted of iodine and he gagged as he swallowed.

So he not only needed to be in water but he needed water to survive.  That seemed counter-intuitive.  After all, he was mechanical .  Or partially mechanical.  What purpose did such a thing serve?

“Certainly tasted otherwise,” he managed to choke out, holding the container out to you.

Your fingers were warm against his webbed fins and you didn’t even hesitate when your fingers brushed his claws.  He could not determine if you were very brave or very stupid for that, with the way your touch sent a jolt down his spine and into his tail.  

Thankfully, his lower half was in water as he silently cursed at the other sensations that arose.  He would have to research this experience further…

“Out here, the water has to be purified before it can be consumed.  At least for me, at any rate,” your smile showed your unspoken apology.  “Do you have a name?”

A question he could not answer.  At one point, he had to have.  Someone gave it to him.  The opposite point of the rising sun…

Before he could respond, your hands found his hair and settled on something he didn’t feel until you gave a gentle tug.

“Oh, that has to hurt, no?”

He liked when your voice was tinged with worry, especially for someone you barely knew.  That was kind of you, if not incredibly foolish.  So many in the water gave him a wide berth, avoided him, and for good reason.  Or so it seemed.  In hindsight, he had no explanation, no context, just…end results.

You tugged on a different spot and he gritted his teeth again.

“When you pull on it, human , yes, it hurts,” he spat.  “Are you always so callous with all you come across?”

“I’m sorry.  You have…that’s a fishing lure…and a piece of a net…that looks like some kind of mollusk…if you’re going to have long hair, you have to care for it…this isn’t salvageable…”. You sounded almost sad and you reached around to show him a crude pair of shears, large and clearly intended for working with harder materials than hair.  “I can cut it but I’d have to remove most of it.  Your neck would be bare.”

“Why would I trust the one tugging on me to use anything with a blade near me?” 

The question felt logical.  After all, you’d caused him great discomfort.  Interrupted what was likely meant to be the embrace of death.  Maybe death was the purpose, the point.  After all, he hadn’t felt anything other than the drive to explore and understand.  And if his body couldn’t go on, then what use was…

“I can leave it if you want but it’ll weigh you down and create more drag when you swim.  Not very aerodynamic, you know?”

He turned his head and felt his skin grow hot at how close your face was to his.  You smelled of sweat, dirt, and something uniquely you and his heart began its own unorganized rhythm.  That sensation that sat at the base of his spine tingled and turned into an ache as it ran through him, ruining whatever trains of thought he had.  Now, all he could think of was your lips and how much he wanted to feel your heat against him, around him, how he wanted to see your eyes blown dark with base need…

He swallowed when you smiled and your low laugh jostled your torso into his.  You were soft , Archons above, so soft…

Your eyes seemed to marvel for a moment, dropping to the bottom half of his face, before you spoke again.

“I gave you water and made sure you didn’t dry out like a raisin; surely that’s enough reason to trust me?  All I ask in return is your name.  So if our paths ever cross again, I know what to call you.  It’s only polite.”

He couldn’t reply, too preoccupied with preventing you from realizing whatever was happening under the water.  He did not remember much but he did recall that such base needs were…a boundary for most.  One he could not get a grasp on but you were far kinder than he anticipated…

Why did that preconceived notion exist if there was no evidence to support it?  What happened ?

He felt the wet hair fall away in chunks, his neck muscles instantly relieved as soon as most of the weight was gone.  You worked carefully when the locks were short enough and only twice did you ask for him to wet his head.  Something about an even plane to work with.  He closed his eyes and leaned back a little into your gentle touch.  You knew exactly how to run your hands through his hair against his scalp.  The only sounds between the two of you was the harsh click of the shears as you worked.  

All the while, he resisted the urge to place one hand in his lap.  He couldn’t determine if he wanted to hide his protruding appendage or stroke it.

No one had touched him.  Ever.  Whatever memories of who he was were vague if not outright gone entirely but he knew that much.  His life had been solitary and this need had never existed before.

“There, all done!” You chirped.  “It’s actually quite curly when it dries.  Suits you better, if I can say so myself!”

Curly?  

He brought a hand up and felt the locks, shorn and…oh, they flipped and had patterns of their own…

You stepped away and from the pack you had thrown down, you pulled out a panel of reflective silver.  

“Here.  I’m an inventor, not a hair stylist, but I think I managed to keep your handsome visage from being ruined.”

He stared at you, and then the object, and back at you.  Didn’t people use that word for those they held affection for?  Or was it a general descriptor for someone who was pleasant to look at?

He would need to do a significant amount of research on human customs.  The knowledge he did have was insufficient and vague, like he had swallowed it without understanding its contents.

The merman took the shining glass and almost dropped it.  Familiar red eyes stared back at him, sharp teeth that tore through the flesh of any creature winked in the mirror, and his hair…

Oh, that was much better.  It wouldn’t get in the way, easy to maintain…

His right ear sported a broken piece of glass on a wire.  What had that been?  Could that pop have been…?

“Well, I don’t look like a shark attacked my head,” he muttered in amusement when he handed back the mirror.  

That earring should come out.  If it was broken, there was no point in keeping it.  Maybe he could replace it with something else.  He tilted his head to get better leverage on the post, his claws making the task harder.  Ridiculous.  How did that thing get in, then?

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’, Mister…?”

Your patience ran out, it seemed.  He returned your expectant look with a weary expression.  Truth would be prudent.  He had no one else to turn to.  And if you did run your mouth when you returned to wherever you were from, no one was liable to believe you, were they?  

After all, that was a large backpack for a day adventurer and you had absolutely no fear helping a strange creature survive.

No, you, too, were an outcast.

“I cannot recall my name,” he said at last.  “The last thing I remember is a high-pitched ringing before waking up here.”

“Nothing?  Not even a nickname?  A notion?”

Your persistence might have been charming if he wasn’t so focused on not ripping his ear fin.  Was the stupid thing sewn into his flesh?  

You clicked your tongue and knelt down beside him.  Your softness pressed into his shoulder as you brushed away his hands and worked with the clasp and post, pulling the wire from the piercing.  When you offered it, he shook his head and you reeled your arm back and flung the broken thing into the water.  It landed with a plunk and sank where it hit.

“I do have a notion, if you must insist on information.  But you have not shared your name, only your profession, inventor .”

His eyes locked with yours and you never looked away, never so much as stepped back.  No, this lack of fear wasn’t confidence, it couldn’t be.  Perhaps you were touched in the head or just absolutely without sense from the high sun.

You tilted your head and he had to close his mouth to repress the urge to latch onto the column of your neck.

Killing you would do nothing but potentially result in people looking for him.  A dead body, even that of an outcast, brutally torn apart?  It would only reinforce whatever superstitions existed in these parts.

Your name was nothing more than a whisper across your tongue.  He wondered, briefly, if the jolts that ran through every part of him at the syllables was anything like being electrocuted.  He repeated your name as his tail fins twitched and he throbbed again beneath the water.

“Mmhmm.  Your turn.”

He paused, licking his cracked lips before attempting the name that lingered in his memory banks like a ghost.

“Nadir.”

“The opposite of zenith,” you replied.  “Where someone’s shadow would appear…the lowest point of someone’s spirit…” You frowned, almost wounded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that last one.”

“I did not know its true meaning.  That is beneficial.”

You shook your head and gave a smile that was too tight to be kind.  You had embarrassed yourself and whatever glimmer of enthusiasm had existed was snuffed out with regret.  

“Its meaning is irrelevant.  You look like the evening sky out here, when the sun finally falls and fades from a light blue into the shades of night.  We are not our names given to us.  I think there might be a more suitable one for you out there.”

You returned to your pack and fiddled with something.  A rag and a bottle and small pieces of metal.  The merman inched himself towards the deeper parts of the water, not intent on leaving yet but itching to test his physical capabilities.  You stepped into the water with ease, legs protected by leather, and you reached down, experienced hands sliding a post into place through pierced flesh.

Nadir, for he had no other name to refer to himself, touched his fin and felt the small earring.  A stud, nothing fancy.  When he looked up, he noticed the gold and tanzanite gem from one of your own ears was missing.

“Whatever you call yourself, as long as you have that, I’ll know it’s you.  If we ever meet again.”

___________________

Without a past and without more than loose tendrils of memories, Nadir found himself wandering the coasts of an arid desert beneath high waterfalls.  He kept his hair short, as you had shaped for him, and he quite liked the way it retained a fluffy volume, curling in a wild fashion.  

In the depths, he found caverns and ruins, documents preserved through sheer luck and machinery that sputtered and whirred.

So much of the machinery felt familiar, although he didn’t know why.  He knew exactly where to touch, how the joints held together, and the distance to keep from those blasted sensors that targeted enemies.  Working with them was as easy as swimming and converting hydrogen dioxide into its smaller compound to oxygenate his circulatory system.

Presumably, whatever past he held and whatever memories were once in his system held the answer.  But he was not likely to obtain them again.

Language was retained.  The world’s history, such as it was, and its geography, were readily available.  He knew he was on the cusp of Sumeru and Fontaine.

But he did not know how he came to be.  Nor understand why he was so fascinated with the notion of artificial life (other than, perhaps, that he was not quite organic nor mechanic).

Above the waterfalls was a large statue that glowed bright at night.  The water there was purer, crisper, tinged with a sweetness that came with the surety of one’s actions.  Climbing it would not be impossible, even for Nadir; he did not lack the muscles to achieve it.

But it would be a waste of energy and time.

Where there were steam engines and mechanics, there were pipes to provide water to the various parts necessary.  He could only conclude that there were other means to make one’s way into Fontaine.  

The Fountain of all life.

Part of him wished to stay here, in the seams of the nations, perhaps even set up a workshop.  There was plenty to explore and play around with.  Ships came through here regularly and superstitious sailors would be easy to bargain with.

But Nadir was never one for staying idle.  The world waited for no one and there was so much more beyond his tiny scope.

And so, upon several inspections and tracking of schedules, he entered one of the pipes at the most opportune time and came out of the darkness to shining brilliance and crystalline waters.  The shallows were tricky for a creature like him, for he could not easily hide and there was too much activity around for his liking.

The other creatures were friendlier than he expected.  Otters tumbled with their shells and presented him with a rock to tuck away.  Blubberbeasts rumbled and invited him to swim with them.  The crabs were troublesome but nothing he couldn’t handle with a hard thwack of his tail and a slash of his claws.

Glowing crystals, flowing fauna, coral reefs…everything here teemed with life.  

And below Fontaine City, there was plenty to explore, it seemed.

Yes, this would do quite nicely for now.

___________________

He settled in quickly.  Food was abundant and there were so many caverns and old ruins that Nadir was not without shelter.  Some of the ruins appeared to be some kind of research facility or library, which suited him just fine.

What did not suit him were the random devices that would find their way to his usual hunting ground.  They often scared the fish away and he would return to his vast underground network with only metal cogs and curiosity, his stomach grumbling all the while.  Many of these things were almost operational as well.  It was like someone tired of the project or could not finish it through and flung it out the nearest window.

Ridiculous.  Wasteful.  Pathetic.

Nadir fixed the contraption once he understood its mechanical intentions and returned it to the shoreline.  On more than one occasion, he tied a bow on one out of seaweed, just to be, well, petty and make it harder for the owner to pick up.

The devices were always gone within twenty-four hours and in their place, he found mora.  Which he had little to no use for but at least the sailors he traded with never questioned its origin.  

One day, Nadir was unlucky enough to be caught as he was placing an unfortunate device back onto the ledge.  

“So you’re the reason I’ve yet to be fined, huh?”

His garnet gaze burned as he laid eyes on familiar hair, shining eyes.  He would know you anywhere.

Surely not.

Surely you had more sense than to throw away your projects.  To complete them yourself.  

He couldn’t determine if he should be angry or ravenous.  You, in Fontaine?  It must have been fate.  But then again, fate implied agreeing with the Heavenly Principles and partaking in the constant samara cycles of the world.  Which Nadir wanted no part of.

“And you call yourself an inventor,” he muttered, running his tongue over sharp teeth.  “Can’t even follow through on your own work.”

“Not my fault everything’s been done before.  Just when I think I’m making progress, turns out seven other people did the same thing.  Nothing’s original.”

“So have I been fixing garbage for nothing?”

“No.  I did earn a position in research and development for a private company that works with the Palais thanks to you.  And I have been fairly compensating you…although in hindsight perhaps I should have asked if mora was the best way to do that…not many places to use it for those who live in the water…”

You trailed off, face alight with embarrassment.  Your attire was dingy and looked like you’d endured an explosion.  Nadir sank into the water, keeping his eyes and ear fins just above the surface.

“How long have you been in Fontaine?” You asked, settling into the ledge.

You removed your boots and stockings and stuck your feet into the water.  Nadir couldn’t help but admire your bare skin for a moment before raising his head.

“I do not know how you track time but I have seen winter and spring already.  That is roughly…six months, if I calculated correctly.”

“You were okay when the waters froze over?”

How did he tell you that he held memories of ice far thicker and water far colder?  

“I am here, am I not?” Nadir shot back.

You gave a wry smile in return.  Silence dominated as you watched him, just as he watched you in return.  

“You kept it,” you pointed to your hair and then your ear.

“Short hair is far more practical and the earring is quite pretty.  It reminds me that some humans can be kind.  If not a bit…lacking in self preservation.”

“Oh?”

Nadir gave a wide, toothy grin and you didn’t so much as flinch.  When you didn’t react, he slid his tongue out slightly, the exact way he would when eyeing prey.

“I could have killed you in the desert.”

“But you didn’t.”

“And I could kill you now.”

“You won’t.”

Nadir barked a laugh.  “What makes you so sure?”

Your smile widened.  He watched as, for the first time that evening, a spark shimmered in your eyes.

“Because you enjoy tinkering.  If you killed me, what else would you fill your days with, Nadir?”

“You think very highly of yourself, Inventor.  There’s plenty of underwater devices, I’ll have you know.  Some of the Research Facility fell into the water, after all.  And it’s quite easy to find the parts I need from defective mechs or bargaining with divers.”

“And who else would you talk to, hmm?  Who else is brave enough—”

“Stupid enough,” Nadir interrupted.

You raised an eyebrow but continued, “—to try and bridge the gap?”

Nadir’s gaze dropped to your bare knees and feet, where your skin met the water, before he flicked his eyes back up to you.  Even now, months after you saved him, you sat with him and treated him as an equal.  Anyone else would attempt to bargain with him, keep him at arm’s length but here you were, feet in the water, treating him like…

Like you wanted him.

His chest constricted.  In the deep reaches of his mind, he tried to remember a time or a place someone wanted him and he came up short.

He reached a webbed hand, mindful of his razor-sharp claw, and danced a finger on the sole of your foot.  When you didn’t react, he swam closer, skimming his palm across the muscle of your calf.  

“And what gap might that be, hmm?” He asked as he situated himself between your open legs.  

From this angle, you were smaller than he originally thought (or perhaps it was the ledge height); he towered over you regardless.  His heart danced in time with the cadence of your laugh when his nails tickled your skin ever so slightly.

You smelled different than the last time he saw you.  Metal, soot, and the air of the thunderstorm just before the crack of lightning.  

He expected cockiness, a sharp remark.  But all Nadir found was a simmering gaze and parted lips, perfect for the taking.  Your breath mingled with his and he couldn’t help but wonder what you might taste like.  

“This one,” you whispered.

You leaned forward and Nadir gripped your legs to keep you from falling as your lips crashed onto his.  You were all softness, eager heat, and searing touches as you rested your hands flat against his bare chest.

His head swam as you pressed exploratory kisses to his mouth and jaw.  He read about this, along with many other things regarding human courting and mating.  Few researchers knew of or studied the creatures he was created to mimic.  But he knew enough to recognize that his body’s responses were normal, even if he disliked the loss of control.

Nadir gave a hiss as your dull teeth grazed the curve of his neck before you swirled your tongue across his skin.  His skin felt as if he were on fire.  A shiver ran down his spine and a throbbing ache settled in his lower belly as he hardened at your teasing.  

As long as he kept himself in the water and you stayed on the ledge, he might survive this encounter with shreds of self-control.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, human ,” he murmured.

“Am I?” 

You laughed softly into the soft flesh of his neck and he twitched beneath the water as a jolt ran straight down to his member.  Your warmth left him as you pulled away and he gripped your legs harder when you cupped his face.

“Looks like you’re liking it, though.  Flustered just like when I cut your hair.”

Well, that left him with no choice.

Nadir pulled you into the water with a splash and he dove, crashing his tail on the surface once to create additional spray.  He heard a cry as you flailed, your head bobbing above water once, twice, and then you began to…

Panic shot through him, killing everything else as he darted towards you.  In one swift motion, he scooped you under your arms and brought you back to the surface.  His heart calmed every so slightly when you gasped and coughed (although he would not have minded pressing his mouth to your again).  The ledge you were on was too high to easily reach, he realized, and he brought you to the nearest patch of shallow water.

“You could have mentioned that you couldn’t swim,” he muttered, settling you into the shoal.

“Right, yeah, because I’m going to admit that to a man with a tail and fins who lives in the water.  That’s like telling your murderer where to shoot you.”

Your voice cracked.  You sniffed and then coughed again before getting to your feet.

“Am I not allowed to tease you back?”

“ Teasing would be pulling away and splashing me,” you shot back, extending an arm out in emphasis.  “Finding something else about me to make a flirtatious response about.  Not putting me in danger.  What if I hit my head going down?  What if you didn’t have the reflexes you do?”

You wrung out your clothes and tried to make yourself presentable.  The previous flush across your cheeks was no longer soft and endearing; you instead looked like you were trying to embody the red creatures he saw in the regions near the Fortress.  Your eyes shone but not with the usual enthusiasm nor vibrancy he liked.  In fact, you didn’t look at him at all.

“For the record, most people apologize when they hurt someone else.”

He wanted to call after you as you trudged through the water, your name (your beautiful, brilliant name) on his lips.  But he didn’t want to taint it.  You didn’t deserve that.

Nadir watched, only the top half of his face to the bridge of his nose above the surface, as you made your way back into the city without sparing a glance back.

___________________

He never had a single device thrown into the nearby waters after that encounter.  

And you never came to claim the one you left behind.

It glared at him every time the morning sun glinted off the metal and he caught the stupid thing out of the corner of his eye.  A constant reminder of you , as if the pangs that shot through his arms and chest weren’t enough.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt you.  In fact, despite his words, he never would have been able to bring himself to truly sink his teeth into your flesh.  Nadir would never be able to live with himself if he watched life fade from your eyes and your body slump.

Which made him all the more frustrated with himself.  Pulling you into the water had been a gut reaction, a way to equal the playing ground when you were so intent on mocking him.  He did it with sailors who tried to cheat him out of an agreement.

How was he supposed to know you, someone who lived in the city of Hydro, couldn’t swim ?

Part of him tried to simply forget you and move on with his existence.  That’s what any normal creature would do, after all.  You weren’t like him and you certainly weren’t as clever as he was, at any rate.

But he never heard anything as beautiful as your laugh and the way you smiled at him…

He tried not to take the physical reactions into consideration, how he imagined you might feel beneath him, what coupling with you might feel like as you squeezed him, your lips parted and eyes lidded…

His seed joined the seafoam one morning before he grabbed the stupid contraption and brought it back to his workshop.

How did one apologize ?

This device was meant to be a timed lantern; the user would set the amount of time on the bottom in increments of five, ten, fifteen minutes up until a full hour.  You had not positioned the heat sensor right and it kept turning off before the actual timer recognized the appropriate measurement of time.  It was functional now and to change anything would render it useless for its intended purpose.

Nadir frowned.  He’d had a purpose once, hadn’t he?  His creation was not random; one did not just assemble pseudo-biological systems for no reason, after all.  Despite having no memories of his creator, he knew his muscles were synthetic and his biological systems were as functional and necessary as any other living creature.  Granted, he never tried not eating, but why else did he physically respond to your touch at all, if nothing was functional ?

He shoved the thought aside as he disassembled the housing on the lantern and removed the bulb, leaving only the lighting node itself, the sensors, and the glass panels through which the light shone.

The timer moved a set of cogs as it counted down and the heat sensor had a little lever to insert a piece of non-conductive material into the circuit, cutting off the flow of power.  Simple and basic wiring and cog placement.

But…

He rummaged through and found a comb and wheel, the pieces sliding home as if they were meant to be there.  Thorough testing revealed that another song might be needed, both because this one was grating to listen to and because he needed to take the extended intervals into consideration.

While he continued to work on the abandoned device, he sought pathways into the city itself.  Just like with the waterfall and the elevator’s steam engines, there was no way all of the machinery in the city operated without some kind of system to pump water through the streets.  Eventually, he came upon pipes and underground tunnels, entire networks of stairs and walkways far beneath the sunlight of the city.  

Small houses, crammed in next to one another, food stands and market stalls packed as vendors bargained and shouted.  Children ran along the waterways, pretending sticks from the surface were swords.

He never allowed more than his eyes above the surface and never for too long.  This was too close for comfort.  The last thing anyone down here needed was a rumor of a monster lurking in the water.  

It took weeks but he finally heard murmurs of your whereabouts.  A child, knelt down next to a broken mechanical animal, was told your name and that you fixed machines all the time.  That you could be found on the outskirts of the market when you weren’t working on the surface.

The sections there were shallower, if not outright inaccessible Nadir recalled.  Perhaps not quite a problem but admittedly, it made this all the harder.

Upon hearing your voice from one of the tiny cramped living spaces, he burned the image of your door into your mind until he finished the device.  He wrapped it carefully and made his way back to your location, the invention clutched tight to his chest.  Knowing at this hour that no one would spot him, Nadir lifted himself out of the shallows before the grating covered the waterway.  He pulled himself along with one arm until he reached your door, carefully placed the gift where you would see it and not break it, and gave your door a good thwack with his tail.  You grumbled a threat to supposed intruders as he made his way back to the water and he dove just as he heard your door open.

Quietly, he surfaced and watched as you picked up the wet oilskin package and opened it.  You froze almost instantly in recognition (he had not changed the shape in the slightest, despite his modifications).  Nadir’s heart hammered in his chest and his mouth became surprisingly dry when you wound up the key on the bottom.

The lantern flickered to life and images began to move between the bulb and the glass panels, casting shadows on the metal walls.  Notes from a song he only knew in composition danced in the air as you watched the shapes.  Nadir’s eyes were glued to your face.

A tail became legs.  The figure walked to another.  A kiss.  A house.  A life.

He once read a tale about a girl from Remuria, born partially in the image of an Oceanid, who fell in love with a person on the surface.  She made a bargain for her voice in exchange for the excruciating experience of legs, endearing pain with every step just to be with her true love.

It was too flowery for Nadir’s liking and seemed to reinforce the idea that people should stay where they belonged.  Nonetheless, the base sentiments were there.

You closed your eyes and clutched the lantern to your chest when the song ended.  

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, the words as loud to him as though he spoke them right next to him.

He did not expect you to join him the following evening.  But when he heard the notes as he was hunting for dinner, he could not help but heed the call.

You stood on the ledge, lantern in your hands.  Your face was puffy and you looked like you hadn’t slept.  A terrible look for you, if he were honest, but now was not the best time to say such a thing.

“Is this how you feel?” you asked.  “About me?”

Your words were soft and you broke your gaze away to look at the lantern you held.  He should have had a speech prepared.  Or at least a sound argument.  In actuality, he never expected you to show up again.  It had been enough to express how he felt through the shadow art and he would have been content with your apology, even if he wasn’t supposed to overhear it.

The longer the silence stretched on, the thinner your patience became.

And you were gracious enough to make the trip.

“If you are asking if I love you, the answer is truthfully that I do not know,” Nadir admitted.  “I have never had the life experience to tell me one way or the other and it is easy to mistake infatuation and lust for something more…foundational.”

He ran his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth.  

“But I do know that I never meant to harm you, that I never wanted to harm you, and I think I would be quite happy seeing your face every day of my existence.  However long that’s meant to be.”

He could see by the way your expression shifted that you had plenty of words to say.  For the first time since he met you, however, you opted for silence and instead placed the lantern down on the ground.  You removed your boots and uniform, leaving yourself only in the thin underclothes that gave the vague outline of your true form.

And then you jumped.

Your name left his lips as soon as you broke the surface and Nadir flicked his tail, propelling himself forward.

Was the idea of loving him so abhorrent that you could drown yourself to be rid of him?  Did you truly have a death wish?

Hands found his chest before arms wrapped around his neck and he surface with you clinging to him, your feet kicking.  Nadir glared down at you, a cheeky smile across your face the whole while.

“What were you thinking—” he started.

Wait, kicking?

You giggled and pushed away from him, moving your arms and legs to keep yourself afloat.

“Forced myself to learn.  I didn’t have a lot of time after my shifts for much else.  But I realized I was actually angry at myself,” you said.  “Had I known how to swim, that night would have gone differently.”

Your movements were clumsy but calculated.  Swimming wasn’t even second nature to you, or even third; he could see it in the way you expended too much energy in treading, in the clear discomfort of you submerging yourself under water.

“I’d like to try again,” you said, swimming slightly closer.  “If you’d be open to it.”

Nadir couldn’t name the feeling that seemed to stem from his fins and reach all the way into his head, making him dizzy.  

“You… want to…”

“Would I be here if I never wanted to see you again, Nadir?”

No, you didn’t seem the type, he wanted to say.  But sometimes, silence was better.  It didn’t weigh everything down.  And he very much enjoyed this warm feeling swelling inside of him seeing you in the water with him.

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

___________________

It took time, as all things did. 

You moved out of the undercity and, with a little help from a few colleagues from your company’s engineering department, assembled a house over the water just northeast of Fontaine City.  The trip into the city was the same length of time as before.  Only now, there were beaches instead of stone ledges and you had plans for creating underwater parts of the house for Nadir.

The lantern often lit up your room at night when the two of you went to sleep, both of you keenly aware of the other’s absence.

You didn’t want a solution that involved changing him, you said one night, toes in the sand.  Although you might never share the same bed nor eat at the same table, you were content to have dinner in the same space as him and to sit on the beach and discuss various mechanical ideas until the early hours of the morning.

At some point, he confessed to knowing that he was not entirely organic and that he hailed from a frozen country.  Beyond that, he held little to no recollection; when you protested about closure, he pressed his lips to yours and said that you were all he needed.

Hearing your resolution on not changing him meant more to him than he could truly put into words.  Finding a way to give him legs would be more practical but there was so much of human life that he didn’t understand nor wanted to.  

So instead, he opted to hold you close, tail in the tide, and point out the available constellations.

Until your breath was too hot on his neck and he lost the ability to concentrate.  This close, your scent mingling with the fresh evening breeze, your soft warmth pressed against his side, Nadir wondered if he might combust.

Discussions of logistics happened, of course.  You were no biologist but you admired his form on more than one occasion and took to sketching him when you needed a break from schematics.  He had felt your wet folds before when you directed his hand through your panties and demanded he understand just what his affections did to you.

He did. All too well.

Nadir grew hot when your hand wandered, tracing his slit and the tip of his member.  He gasped when you coaxed him further, your lips on his neck and his cock in your hand; he turned his head and found you gazing not at the stars but at him, every bit of you burning with a deeper yearning than mere lust.  

“I mean it.  I don’t want anything different.  Just you.”

You ran your hands through his hair, tugging slightly and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I want to taste you first,” he panted.  “Properly.”

Before he could rearrange either of you, you remove the remainder of your garments and situated your legs around his neck.  Your folds were glistening with your own slick and he only caught a glimpse before his nose was pressed against your clit and your scent and taste overwhelmed him.

Nadir gripped your thighs tight, nails digging into the soft flesh as he licked and teased.  He did his best to keep his teeth covered as he dipped between your folds, feeling your velvet walls against his tongue.  He pulled away only long enough to nibble at your thighs and nuzzle between your folds, reveling in the way your desire dripped down his chin.  

Your taste made him dizzy and served to only harden him further.  Your feisty hand reached behind you and squeezed his length and he groaned, the edge already closer than he wished it was.

No, not yet.

He pulled your hips down onto him and pushed his tongue into you as far as it would go.  Judging from the jolt that rocked both of you, that was much deeper than you anticipated.  He flicked across one particular spot and you bucked again as you gave a low whine.

Now that was interesting…you enjoyed that…

Nadir repeated the motion and you clenched around his tongue with a louder cry.  He continued, unrelenting, until you shuddered, walls fluttering as your taste changed and you gushed atop him.  You were breathless, chest heaving, glowing with a desire yet to be extinguished.

He licked every drop from your lips and your thighs.   You tasted magnificent and he couldn’t let that go to waste.

Your hands reached for him again but Nadir leveraged you with ease and flipped both of you over, your back on the sand and legs wrapped around his waist.

“I need all of you,” he whispered.  “Just you.”

You felt absolutely divine against his tip and he eased into you slowly, inch by inch, your swollen walls still fluttering.  He watched your expression, eyes widening and lips parting in pants as he finally bottomed out.  You were already beautiful but like this? 

Such things were not meant for this world.  And yet you were all his .

Your hands trailed across his back and down along his hips, tracing the scales of his tail.  He moaned when, as he pulled out slightly to simply steady himself, the heel of your foot pressed against his tail and pushed him back in and you held him there, filling you entirely with his length.  He nipped at your neck in retaliation.  

“Nadir…”

Oh, when you said his name like that, dragging out the last syllable…

He pulsed inside you and you had the gall to bring your other leg up, pinning him inside you.  Nadir gritted his teeth and, claws digging into your waist, pulled you further down the shore and into the water.  He flipped both of you so you rested atop him, legs encircling his waist, and your bodies still joined at the hip.  You sputtered for a moment but were wholly undeterred

He continued to thrust into you lazily as he floated along to deeper water.  He held you tight, and pulled your body further underwater, until only your heads were above the surface.  You were weightless on top of him, shrouded in his element, and he dragged out both of your releases until you convulsed on top of him, moaning incoherently.  

Nadir buried his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his guttural groan as he released deep inside you.  He shuddered as you peaked again, the intensity too much for him to bear so soon.

He kissed and licked your shoulder apologetically as you both came down from your high, tangled in one another.  In the distance, the water sparkled with the promise of daybreak, the sky already full of soft pinks and oranges.  Had you truly been up all night?

“Have you ever seen such a beautiful sunrise?” you whispered, nuzzling closer to him.

A vague memory tickled his mind.  A flick of fins, a touch of dawn, possessive glares.

If that was beauty by most standards, then he wanted no recollection of that.

“No.  No, I have not, my love.  But every day with you will contain such light.  I’m sure of it.”

[arcaneafterhours]

i drew the sbg characters if they were in my comics magic system heres a long post talking about their abilities

i somehow did doodles of all of them in one day lol. THIS IS GOING TO BE A VERY LONG POST BE CAREFUL ABOUT CLICKING READ MORE THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ABOUT MY COMIC AND ABOUT SBG

ok so the magic system of my comic is basically this: your eye color aligns with a “concept”, and each concept turns into a very unique super power for each individual. it can be anything, as long as it fits the concept. literal or metaphorical. i designed this power system to be very vague so you can be super creative

ill explain each concept as i go down, but i basically switched the sbg cast with my cast, so all of them are called “duo ranked” and have heterochronmia, and their concepts have mixed together to create a new, entirely unique power that fits both concepts in its own creative way.

i also kept one color for every character except for aiden. i kept his red eye, because if i didnt i would be doing FOUR BROWN RANKS and i want to show off this system so ill only do 3 lmao

heres how it went:

starting off with ashlyn, her ability came pretty easy. i kept her green eye(the concept of growth) and gave her a white eye(the concept of enhancement(typically of ones own values or senses)), and they mixed together to give her control over sound, more specifically its volume and frequencies

its very useful for her, she avoids being overwhelmed way easier now and can switch off whatever is bugging her if it gets too loud. coincidentally, eavesdropping is INCREDIBLY easy, since she can just turn up a specific conversation she wants to listen in on. and she can manipulate frequencies so she makes tyler voicecrack all the time because its really funny. very simple power and its perfect for ash. her drawing turned out okay, i kinda rushed them all just to have them done dont expect high quality

I had a VERY fun time coming up with aidens power. he has his red eye(the concept of creation(self explanatory)) and i gave him a purple eye (the concept of perception, like illusions and such) and the two mixed together to allow him to turn duplicate illusions into reality (if he has enough strength to do so). he can create illusions that are specifically duplicates of objects, and they are only temporary for the time being until he actually ‘creates’ it, then of course it just permanently exists. he is limited to only a single duplicate, and one at a time. actually creating something is very draining

the only human duplicate he can make that will function correctly is himself, and he cannot make it more than a temporary illusion. he can make decoy human illusions, but he cannot make them real.

i had a lot of fun trying to draw his stupid hair it was good practice, im very happy with his drawing

next is tyler!! i put “pursuance” in the drawing because i never know how to describe it but tracking or pursual(is that a word??) is a better word i guess?? its in the works

I kept his brown eye(the concept of pursuit(being able to track things basically)) and gave him an orange eye (the concept of healing) and i gave him a pretty literal power of being able to track how far along the healing process an individual is. in turn, this also gives him the ability to sense when someone around him is hurt.

also, since he can track the healing journey, physically touching him will speed it up ever so slightly. if you have a stomach ache just go hug tyler and eventually you’ll feel better

now for possibly my favorite ability, TAYLOR :D! (featuring me forgetting the word pursuit exists and just putting ‘persual’ which may not be a WORD google LIED TO ME HELP DONT LOOK AT IT

ANYWAY just like tyler i kept her brown eye, and then i gave her a pink eye (the concept of connection), which gave me the idea of her being like tylers opposite. i wanted their powers to reflect each other, so where tyler can track physical injuries and how they heal, taylor can ‘connect’ with others and sense their mood and how it has recently been. almost like a graph!! sometimes she accidentally does it and gets overwhelmed trying to keep track of other peoples moods when she isnt prepared to handle it.

and just like tyler, physical touch from taylor will make you happy and calm (hugging taylor does that anyway) so she is like that scene in big hero six where they all lay on baymax because hes very warm and i love her

I HAVE NEVER DRAWN HAIR LIKE BEN PLEASE DONT ASK I DID MY BEST ON THESE LIYTLE DODLES

anyway

for the last time i kept bens brown eye because why does everyone have brown eyes, and then i also gave him white because i got a really really funny idea ok.

ben can track movement of people around him specifically, and he can enhance his own power. if he enhances it enough for one person, he can predict what their course of movement is about to be. its very immediate, so when hes trying to process it the action could very much already be happening. its very useful actually!!!

ITS TIME FOR MY FAVORITE ABILITY RAJGEJR FINALLY NO MORE BROWN ABILITIES

I kept logans blue eye (the concept of movement) and i gave him yellow (the concept of light) because yk yk hes a dlorist photosynthesis WHATEVER

he can basically control the movement of anything in bright light. the control on it he has depends on how bright the light is, so he finds it useful to keep a flashlight on him

THATS ALL, I HAD A LOT OF FUN FOJNG THIS I STARTED AT 10 AM AND FINISHED AT ABOUT 1:30 PM LMAO MY WRJSTS HURT A LITTLE :] If you like the magic system, i post all about the actual protagonists in #comicsafterhours if you want to see more idkffkjmdnfm,,,,,, anyway

if you actually read all that tysm?? love you lots?? ill probably draw my ocs in the sbg situation soon

[echo]

this is a response to @anarcho-yorpism's tag for me in this post. i'm not directly rbing bc that post is long and it has a lot going on in the notes.

anyway please note all of my responses here are my own, and not representative of Staff or tumblr. i am not T&S and have zero power to make any moderation decisions here.

with that disclaimer:

Predstrogen received a message from Tumblr saying she was banned for "sexual content". If she was not, why was she told this, why were her transition photos removed, and why has she still not been told the actual reason? (I understand not making it public, but it is your policy to tell the user) If she was, what was this sexual content, if not her transition timeline?

i can't really directly answer this for few reasons. firstly, i feel that staff shouldn't talk about her anymore bc i feel this continued controversy will only attract more harassment for her on other platforms.

secondly, as a low-level staffer talking about moderation decisions can get me, y'know, fired. i'd prefer not to do that.

also just like... i want to avoid getting into a narrative of "well she did bad things so she deserves it" or whatever. idc if she broke the rules or not, she didn't deserve what happened.

i know this isn't terribly satisfying to hear, but i'd like to be honest about why i'm not saying more at least.

If you can't answerblegal questions, ignore this question: The NYCLU settlement agreed that Tumblr would fix its moderation so it targeted transfem users less. Why has there been no comment on the settlement and actions taken since? There could genuinely be a large legal case against Tumblr after this, and I love this site and don't want that to happen. Also, wasn't it illegal under GDPR to release her usernames?

i'm not able to answer legal questions. i don't know the exact text of the agreement, but it mostly boiled down to some training and stuff from my personal experience there.

however not as a staffer but as NYC trans human: i would not put a ton of faith in the NYCCHR. they have some noble goals but they are a chronically underfunded city agency that in practice does very little to curb real-world violence against marginalized people. i tried to use them myself when my landlord was kicking me out right after i had surgery and they didn't even get back to me until months after everything resolved. nobody i know in the community out here has been helped by them off the top of my head.

i have sincere doubts in relying on the state to help people here.

A lot of transfem users don't like vague language like "prioritize", especially given point 2 and Matt's statement that improving moderation was not on the agenda. I understand you can't reveal company secrets in an already risky post, but we would like to see the specific actions taken after this, given a lot of broken trust by what @\photomatt has said. Are any of the trans women banned recently for "sexual content" going to have their accounts restored?

i don't know. i'm pushing internally for at least a review of everyone suspended to see if the less egregious stuff can be reversed. but like i said, i don't have a ton of power as i'm not in charge of anything.

and yeah, "prioritize" is vague corpo-speak. i know some stuff is shifting internally and what we said does match what is happening inside. but also... i've been disappointed before.

i can say i'm tentatively optimistic. people are responding seriously, and being asked our opinions for once is pretty nice. but also, systemic stuff is hard. i trust in my fellow workers and i'll continue to fight until i can't anymore.

so... yeah. i genuinely wish i can be more informative here, but what we wrote (and i want to emphasize we here, it was not just me by any stretch!!) is what we can say in an official capacity.

i'm just frustrated, tired, angry, depressed... and also weirdly hopeful?

[schizosupport]

hey there

im exploring this all still. i might be on this schizotypal-psychotic spectrum but i have a... confusion.

pretty much everything that i might classify within that diagnostic realm i experience as essentially a spiritual event. sometimes this comes with fatigue or dizziness or other physical reactions to a non-physical event. and to be clear none of this falls neatly into a given religion. i grew up around hippie type believe in whatever you want people.

i guess my question is, is it possible to tell if something is spiritual or psychotic in nature? or even if there is functionally a difference, since theres nothing physical i can point to?? this has been bothering me for a while, but largely the only information ive been able to find online vaguely indicates that having religious experiences is distinct, and doesnt elaborate on why or how, just that its a diagnostic disqualifier.

and also. thank you for this blog, its really cool and awesome to see this happening (both as a community thing and a psych special interest go brrrrrr thing)

Hello there!

The border between spirituality and psychosis can be hard to define. As you've stated, religious experiences and beliefs shared with a subculture generally aren't considered delusional, even if they aren't believed to be true by the wider society. This includes things like religious beliefs and conspiracy theories shared by groups, and it also does include some more personal spiritual beliefs, though it can be troublesome to define exactly when something is "so personal that it becomes delusional".

In my mind one important distinction is about whether you came up with the belief yourself, or whether it's something you have learned from someone else. Another important distinction is whether it's harming you. Those two don't have to follow each other. Being a part of a cult doesn't make you clinically psychotic if you were indoctrinated into your beliefs, but the beliefs can still certainly harm you. But if you got away from the group you would be able to start to unlearn the beliefs as you are presented with new evidence.

And likewise, personal beliefs that aren't shared by anyone else aren't inherently harmful. For example as a kid I believed that if I was tired, hugging a tree would give me access to a bit of its life source, and that would allow me to keep going. It was a completely harmless personal belief. I would classify relatively harmless personal belief systems as a type of magical thinking if I was wearing my pathologizing hat, but I also don't think that it is inherently a clinically problematic experience.

Now it's worth noting that there is a difference between beliefs and experiences. You are talking about "spiritual events", so that sounds like you are experiencing things that are "abnormal", and then attribute spiritual significance to them. Now I don't know the nature of said events, but if we take the most bland view of reality, then such events generally aren't a real thing that occurs, so by that logic the experience itself is a sign of some mental fuckery. And then with the pathologizing hat on, we might say that you are experiencing psychotic events, and interpreting them as spiritual events, which we might then consider delusional.

But by that logic a lot of people who aren't in treatment, and who are leading perfectly functional lives, are delusional/psychotic. And therefore I think that it's helpful to bring in the "is it harming you?" distinction. Because ultimately it's less interesting to me whether something is "psychotic" or not, and much more interesting to figure out whether it's a problem for the person experiencing the belief/events. I don't think there's any sort of moral or even functional high-ground to be found in having a super down to earth view of reality, where you only ever believe something if its been scientifically proven beyond any reasonable doubt. There's nothing wrong with being that way, but it's not inherently more healthy than having some fantastical or spiritual beliefs mixed in there. And you won't catch me arguing that organized religion is inherently more healthy than personal spirituality, either!

A personal distinction that I make is that a delusion is less so something you believe in, and more so something that you are convinced of. Most things that I believe in, I have reason to believe. I've arrived to my opinions after careful research and consideration. If I haven't done a lot of research and consideration, my belief is generally less strong. When it comes to spiritual stuff I believe some things but I'm not convinced of them. They are beliefs and I'm aware that they aren't proven truths, they are things that I believe in. For me, one thing that's a red flag for psychosis is when I'm sure of something. The world is so complex, so how could I ever be completely sure of anything?

I think that as a field, noting that religious/spiritual experiences are different from psychosis has been important, because otherwise we would be pathologizing a lot of otherwise healthy individuals based on a conviction that there's no such thing as a religious experience. Humans have evidently always had religious experiences and beliefs - it seems pretty inherent to our nature! And most of the time, at a personal level, it isn't inherently harmful.

Psychosis is problematic because it often hurts the person who is experiencing it, not because it diverges from consensus reality.

So I can't give you a one size fits all solution, but these are some of my thoughts.

[canmom]

i probably would call myself a consequentialist, but not a utilitarian. my objection to utilitarianism is similar to my objection to the absolutist Bayesianism practiced in That Subculture: it's a philosophy that claims to be based around a certain computation, but actually performing that computation is completely intractable. there's no way to actually update your probability assignments of all possible statements in response to new information, any more than it's possible to aggregate the total happiness/suffering/whatever across the entire future for each imaginable course of action.

so this calculation is entirely notional. what you're actually doing is coming up with verbal arguments and vague heuristics for how you think this notional calculation would work. perhaps it's as good an entry point as any. but the supposed mathematical rigour is just rhetoric! you can talk about utilons this and QALYs that, but there is no way to calculate this shit, it's just a mathematical coat of paint.

the second objection is the 'seeing like a state' objection (or seeing like a company/NGO): the 'utility function' is a construct used to make economic models. it doesn't model humans particularly well, who have a variety of competing impulses that don't lend themselves to nice formalisms. and to demand that you should live according to a utility function is accordingly to strip the world of its complexity to make it more tractable. instead of specific people with specific desires and needs and relationships into which you fit, which aren't necessarily commensurable, you have abstract fungible units of pleasure or suffering or whatever else you're trying to optimise.

this worldview appealed to me as a teenager. I imagined that you could model an agent as a some kind of surface between it and the world - a sphere, perhaps, inside your head; the course of your life would be the movement of particles in and out of this sphere, and theoretically there would be a pattern for every instant of time that would lead to the best possible impact on the world, solving 'life' much like a tool assisted speedrun solves a game. the goal would be then to approximate this optimal run as much as possible. then I'd think of problems with this model: couldn't you just spawn high energy photons on the sphere to melt shit like a laser? we'd have to put some restrictions on it, obviously. what if the optimal run was really close to a harmful run, so a small mistake would lead to disaster? perhaps you'd be better to find a stable local maximum instead. and so on.

I'm not sure what good it did me to imagine this funny (or if you prefer, terminally STEM-brained) thought experiment, but it was very nice and mathematical-looking, and back then I really wanted my philosophy to be impossibly demanding for some reason. some weird combo of depression and autism and a self image very much dependent on being told i was good?

these days my feeling is that the pretense of mathematical rigour where it doesn't exist is untrustworthy, and particularly where people are concerned, abstracting too much loses important information. I'm not a court of law where strict consistency matters for the sake of stability or whatever, nor a government trying to figure out which levers to pull to create the ideal society - I'm an organism embedded in a bewilderingly complex system, and I can take each situation as it comes. treating the people I interact with well is important to me. I still sometimes think along utilitarianish lines sometimes - particularly 'this person could use this money more than me' - but I make no pretense to rigour or optimisation with it.

[seth-whumps]

okay i have a proposition.

i have this idea that i can't get out of my head but i have a feeling it might not be in character/plausible so feel free to change it or message me if it is But

is there any scenario where a glitch to morri's personality systems would like. make them act completely out of character but not necessarily in a distressed way?? like they either become super happy and affectionate or like sad and weepy or even just act vaguely drunk/silly? i know its kind of a weird ask and its not really whumpy but i just think it would be so silly to see that side of them and jj's reaction to it ( ๑˘ω˘ )

feel free to make it whumpy if you can too! i'd be very interested to see that, but either way i have another whumpy ask ill send in a bit!

bug. bug your MIND. okay this one is short but incredibly sweet. and it is not beta'd because I was so excited to write it and I love it a lot so thank you for the ask bug I dedicate this one to you!!!

--

"What on earth are you doing."

"Hugging you." That's all Morrigan says in response. Their arms are wrapped around JJ's shoulders from behind the couch, snug and warm, and their hair is infuriatingly tickling his left ear where their chin rests. "Do you want me to stop?"

JJ lets out a short breath. He is very, very confused. "...Uh, no, you don't have to stop, just. Since when did you get cuddly?"

"Am I being cuddly?" Their head tilts, nudging his ear. "I'm just hugging you."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Is there any particular reason?"

Morrigan stops to think. It's strange, hearing the soft hum of their breath behind him, as close as they are. Morri isn't touchy, and he doesn't mind respecting their space, so whatever the fuck this is, it's nothing short of seriously freaky.

"You seem... stressed." Morrigan releases him, and maneuvers to sit next to him. The couch dips, and they fold their hands. "I want to help."

"Stressed? I mean, maybe. I just got the new assignment, so I'm a little tense, but..."

Morrigan leans their head on his shoulder.

He stops in his tracks. "Morri?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you... okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you? Your shoulder is very tense."

JJ barely scoffs. "Yeah. You're laying on it. Forgive me if that's a bit surprising."

"It's supposed to make you relax," they say, frowning and sitting up. "Could I hold your hand instead?"

"Uh--?"

"Or maybe..."

Morrigan then lays fully down and rests their head in his lap, all while JJ holds both hands up in complete and utter bewilderment. What on earth is happening?

"Woah, Morri. Hey. Snap out of it. Who are you, and what have you done to my robot?"

"Not your robot," Morrigan corrects neutrally, "and I'm trying to help you. Physical contact is supposed to help stress levels. Your heart rate is increasing, though, am I doing it wrong?"

"Okay, Baymax." JJ gently pushes them upright, and holds them by the shoulders. "Do me a favor and run a system diagnostic."

"Copy."

Their eyes blink rapidly. The left one shutters into a solid yellow, the color oddly cold for its shade. Morrigan goes motionless for several seconds.

Eventually, they jolt. "Oh."

"Oh?"

One eye blinks as they readjust. "Small bug. I... am overreacting."

JJ tilts his head, confused. See, normally, an 'overreaction' ends in several hours of dissociation or trying to coax down his friend from committing murder. This doesn't seem like an overreaction. It's strange, but nothing close to what he's used to. "To what?"

"You."

"Excuse me?"

Morrigan takes a breath, flinching back. "Sorry. I'm sorting it. You're registering as a target."

JJ tries to relax. "That is a lot more threatening than the hug you gave me."

"No, I was trying to--" They frown, frustrated. "You're stressed. I'm reading it as a threat. I tried to calm you down. Make you less of a threat. Best option was to hug you."

"Oh." He nods, and breathes out, doing everything he can to make himself look harmless. "Makes sense. Are you still reading me as a threat?"

Their eyes glaze over, the way they do when they're looking at something only they can see. "Yes."

"Want to fix that?"

Morrigan's eyes focus immediately. "What?"

JJ opens his arms in an invite. He wiggles his eyebrows. "Sort out the bug with some cuddles, Morri, c'mon! I give great hugs."

"You are..." Their gaze is captured by something, for just a moment. They sigh, heavily, and lean in for the hug. "...an absolute moron," they mutter into his shirt.

"Hey. Is it helping?"

Morrigan settles against their chest, curled up adorably. Their eyelids flutter shut, no doubt working through whatever line of code snapped in their systems. It'll take a while to fix it all. "I suppose."

"Then I'm a genius."

"Shush."

"Sort it out, cuddle bug."

"Never call me that again."

(JJ wouldn't mention it to anyone. But Morrigan enters stasis there, in his arms. And even if the couch is less than comfortable, and he has a mission early in the morning on the other side of town, he doesn't move an inch.)

(Because Morrigan, despite everything, is very very warm. And JJ wouldn't let go for the world.)

--

this is tooth-rotting fluff and I Don't Care it was SO FUN TO WRITE so I hope this fulfills your ask!!! thank you bug!!!!

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Incomplete list of changes I would make to mha if god gave me the ability to do so

So

Shinso is Midoriya’s main rival/foil among his classmates and actually gets a proper arc, Shigiraki can continue to be his villain rival

No Bakugo, he’s not plot relevant at all after the first episode. We will vaguely refer back to him in the final season with a shot of him staring at one of Deku’s battles from like a store or something but that’s it I want him gone

Female Shouto Todoroki

Also less in the whole Todoroki family arc about how sad Endeavour is that his family hates him for abusing them for their whole lives and more about the Todosibs complicated relationships with each other and Rei

No villains for the entire first season its just focused on UA, the competitive environment and how Izuku adapts to that and also his blossoming friendships

No Toga Ochako foil, there’s no reason for them to be foils sans ‘girl’. Idk develop that one gas villain (Mustard?) or whatever and have him be Ochako’s foil

Give Toga a proper character about self identity or whatever instead of just that love bullshit, idk she can foil someone else, I like villain hero foils but Ochako Toga was not it for me

The first villain the UA kids would fight is Stain. This isn’t just bc the Stain arc is one of my personal favorites, but I think it would be a cool transition between a mainly school focused 1st and partially 2nd season that would mainly worldbuild and get us into hero society and graducally exposing the flaws in that society. Given the LoV are basically just a bunch of people who are the result of the cracks in hero society I think it would be a nice seguway

Also Iida Tensi should actually be a corrupt hero.

Stain Iida parallels!!

Aizawa is actually forced to realize he’s a shitty teacher and has to undergo a character arc to be nicer to the people around him and realize that trauma does not make people stronger, it didn’t for him and it won’t for his students

Midnight is given development as a mentor and hero beyond boob jokes and dying

Also, like... if you want to make Mineta a character people don’t want to see die the second he’s on screen just have him gradually grow out of being so perverted?? Like a joke here or there is okay I guess but as the series goes on he should also get development lmao

Significantly more of 1A and 1B should be from hero families. Nepotism baybee.

More focus on some of the topics in heroism set up earlier in the series, like how heroes are paid based on who gets credit for taking down a villain and things like public image and charisma and how that allows for more corruption to fester

Either develop Aoyama more and make us care about him or make someone else (ie Ochako, refer back to my ‘why Ochako should have been the UA traitor post) the traitor who we actually care about

Keep Izuku analyzing quirks jesus fuck let him think instead of just be a plot device

More worldbuilding in general tbh

Let at least some of 1A ultimately become vigilantes after realizing the system is corrupt and made to benefit the people in power and heroes in this world are just functionally superpowered cops and that’s not the right type of system to see as morally infallible- *I am shot and killed by Horikoshi*

There’s more but I’m tired, please add at your wish

[tanadrin]

...what exactly is the correct, good faith description of how common law constitutional systems work, then? i had conservative parents where extremely literal interpretation of the constitution was always assumed - never really got any perspective on living constitutionalism than that it was always just vague hogwash to justify doing whatever the speaker's exact policy preferences are. i understand that originalism/textualism as used are exactly the same, sure, but that's why i thought the only recourse was to dispense with constitutionalism and even the idea of "rights" altogether and go with a hobbes/schmitt (yes i know he's a nazi) bent. this isolates me from most other politics people on the internet a great deal, obviously! but if there's actually a case for living constitutionalism that doesn't reduce to "everything i want is always mandatory, everything my opponents want is always illegal" that can convince me that'd be great!

Originalism and textualism are not the same thing.

Originalism is the legal philosophy that the meaning of a law is based on the intent of the drafters of the law. In the U.S., this is actually not so hard a problem, because the Constitution was drafted in the 1780s, there was a big ratification debate which involved a lot of the people who participated in the drafting, and they made their own understanding of the text quite clear. Subsequent amendments were drafted even later, and like laws drafted by Congress, there are records of congressional debates and the like in which lawmakers lay out their stances very clearly.

Now, the problem with originalism as a legal philosophy is that you have to actually be good at historical research to apply it correctly. And if you are any good at historical research, and do not arbitrarily cherry-pick citations, you will unfortunately find that a lot of the dogmas of the conservative legal movement are actually not in evidence in the historical debates around the Constitution, its amendments, and significant U.S. statute laws. For this reason, among others, later conservative legal scholars have tried to make textualism a thing.

Textualism is the legal philosophy that the meaning of a law is based on the commonly understood meaning of the law at the time it was adopted. This is a weird approach! Like, I don't know much about (say) customs law, which is a complicated subject; if I tried to apply a customs law adopted in 2024 I would very probably fuck it up at some point. Even a highly trained criminal attorney or intellectual property lawyer might easily do so--the legal profession is big, and requires a lot of specialization! So why do non-expert opinions matter? And if expert opinions are what we are after, who is a better authority than the people who actually drafted a law?

Nonetheless, textualism is a highly motivated approach at avoiding the limits of originalism, and the key to applying textualism is to do your historical research even worse than if you were trying to do originalism. For example, D.C. v Heller (2008) found that the 2nd amendment protected an individual right to bear arms; but this is a terrible decision from both an originalist point of view and a textualist point of view, because we have lots of gun control legislation from much closer to the time the 2nd amendment was adopted in 1791 that would violate the 2nd amendment as interpreted in 2008; it is clear that the 2nd amendment was certainly not commonly understood at the time of its adoption to protect an individual right to bear arms, but was more about protecting the rights of states to raise and arm militias--which also happens to be consonant with a lot of the other historical evidence we have around why the 2nd amendment was adopted, and what the purpose of the Bill of Rights was, vis a vis the restraint of federal power against the states (cf. the Federalist Papers).

A big problem for any attempt at a purely deterministic, mechanistic application of law is that law is not a magical or mathematical formula with a single unambiguous meaning, because we create law through language, and that's not how human language works. Human language is not infinitely flexible, but it is equally not perfectly precise; it frequently admits ambiguity. And how we understand texts, and the values that are key to interpreting those texts, evolve over time: the U.S. Constitution clearly forbids "cruel and unusual punishment," but what is considered "cruel and unusual" in 2024 is very different from what was "cruel and unusual" in 1791. Should the literal meaning of 1791 prevail--in which case the law can only possibly regulate things which actually existed in 1791, and it's perfectly OK for the Feds to ransack your email without a warrant because it's not within your 'houses, papers, and effects'--or should the general principle which is shared between 1791 and 2024 prevail--in which case it's not insane to read the prohibition on "cruel and unusual punishment" as a prohibition on the death penalty if we come to understand the death penalty as cruel or unusual?

All texts require us to negotiate their meaning. This does not mean communication is impossible, or that a text can say anything you want it to mean. What it means is that ambiguity in communication is unavoidable. Law is an effective tool because it is a Schelling point for cooperation, which is what lets us build peaceful and ordered societies, and allows us to do politics without killing each other. Textualism and originalism not only deny the very inarguable fact of ambiguity in language, I think they work pretty hard against law being an actually useful Schelling point, and attempt to turn it into a brute exercise of power. Which is not good if you want a society to actually function!

Outside of originalism and textualism there are lots of different views on legal philosophy and they are complicated. Legal realism and legal positivism are two historically popular schools of thought. The general question of legal philosophy is called "jurisprudence," which is both thinking about what the law is and what it should be; there are literally whole textbooks on the subject. Law is complicated! There is a reason you can get advanced degrees in this stuff!

[molluskmirage]

Lets talk Bbh, learning and Love

Now Ive been watching qsmp bbh since the beginning and given the actually insane amount Bad has streamed its not something that would be easy to watch to see the whole story for newcomers, and while his lore points get relegated around the community in a great ready to read sort of way theres a much softer side to Bads story that Id like to share here.

Bad has an incredible capacity to learn however this does need motivation, wether this comes with pranking or what came to be from the love of his child.

At the beginning of the qsmp Bad had no modded Minecraft knowledge and wasn’t particularly interested from being overwhelmed by it all. Vegetta gave him his first backpack and while thrilled by the idea of being able to carry more things as this man loves to hoard he really didnt think he’d be able to use all the upgrades as they seemed to complicated to him. Very soon into the series however came Dapper. Someone for Bad to protect all alone in a place where he was clueless and Bad realized he needed to adapt if he wanted to protect Dapper with everything that he could.

Of course this doesn’t happen overnight learning takes time and you break it down in small bites a lot of this would be done by finding an item, testing its possibilities and then deciding how he could prank Foolish with it. Pranking Foolish with said item often then extended Foolish's learning as he was in the same place as bad was at the start.

Bad went on to discover slime armor, backpack upgrades, way stones (making systems then a subway to help other eggs), he made the first monitor controlled ender pearl system with Dapper, he also spent months figuring out the safest bunkers. Any knowledge Bad could gain to protect the eggs he was constantly evolving and adapting to there foes and challenges.

Now Dapper has a love for all things his intelligence and passion so quickly overcame Bads knowledge and abilities. Bad as a great parent always supports Dapper even though its beyond him, never putting Dapper down so that Bad might be on top intellectually as a parent but ‘saying’ (not necessarily in words but actions) to Dapper whatever your needs or actions I will provide and do for you. While Bad did this there was also a part of him that realized to really appreciate all that Dapper was capable of Bad would need to learn create a daunting task for him but spurred for the love of his child he begins.

when Dapper was around and building with create Bad kept an eye on him, he knew in a vague sense what Dapper was up to, and had a vague idea of how machines operated and would listen very intently to aypierre and ask questions. While Dapper was so far beyond Bad’s capabilities bad let Dapper be reliable for create needs while he focused on protection but then Dapper was gone.

Dappers machines broke and Bad had no idea how to fix them. In the love of his son as the grief and hopelessness washes over he connects with Dapper by learning create. He starts small and with examples from Forever and Aypierre and he builds gaining his own backpack for his create machines like Dapper had had.

Upon Dappers return Bad has eagerly been able to build with them. They chat so freely and openly, Bad knows all the parts and can quickly hand Dapper anything he might need or ask for. As Dapper sleeps Bad keeps developing new machines that can aid in finding a black lobster (a Christmas gift for Dapper as they’ve wanted one for so long) and the love the care that has gone into this point in time. Throughout all the months, from the beginning when bad knew nothing and had nothing to now decked out in a dress for his daughter working on a machine he built to find the elusive lobster for his son. Ugh I cry its so sweet and cute and the profound love that is there is the most beautiful thing of life and love.

[fictionfreedom]

Gonna just ramble/rant what I'm thinking of. Tw cw for discussing more harmful things. Suicide, vague mentions of crimes, stuff like that. Grooming and predatory behaviors. Mention of harmful paraphilias.

The saying that antis use that is "fiction affects reality" is technically true. But not in the way they use it.

Most people that DO use media to hurt others OR ended up committing crimes in the name of whatever fiction they like. It's not that media's fault for it. There's been plenty of times someone has killed themselves because of a fictional character. And even I have been there too.

And then for like art or something being used to groom as a reason it shouldn't be available. Predators are gonna use anything they can to groom. Doesn't matter what it is. A lot of porn is used to groom children. Dolls are used to groom children too. And porn is something that already exists in only online spaces.

There is no way to protect every single thing from happening. If someone misuses the media for such things, that is not the fault of a creator for making it. People shipping fucked up things or drawing weird art is not the reason people are being groomed. Because of course the creators of such things NEVER intend for it to be used like that. And it is not their fault if it is used like that. There's plenty of adult only media that's more mainstream/normal that gets used to groomed people too.

Fiction DOES have some effect on reality. I can't deny that because I am someone that is sensitive to it. But it is not in the way antis use it. It's often very individual based. And a lot of people that use media to commit crimes or whatever were already at risk of it. Because a lot of the time they have issues already and often don't have good support systems. It's not because of the media they consumed putting ideas in their head. It's not because they had access to stuff.

Also antis will say it's gross to make art of that. But actually when it comes to harmful to act upon philias like pedophilia fictional outlets are recommended by professionals. A good support system, fictional outlets, and not being treated as a monster actually lowers the risk of offending if someone were at risk of it. :/ Like. That's actually what professionals say helps someone that is at risk of offending.

No matter how you look at it, antis are contributing to harm rather than protecting from it. And if they didn't want to see it especially if it's triggering then...block the people, block the tags or key words. There's solutions for it.

A lot of the time these people stick to their own niches. The fact it "breaks containment" isn't their fault at all. And if their art is used to harm others, they never meant for that to happen.

Just because media is used in support of crimes or whatever is not the fault of the media or its creators. It's a very nuanced discussion. And while fiction CAN affect reality, it is often up to the individual or those around them to help. They're using the exact arguments parent groups used for video games.

People always and always will make fucked up content. Some people may use it for bad things. But that is no reason it shouldn't exist. Censorship is NEVER okay. And even as someone that HAS been affected by media in negative ways, it becomes up to you to handle it. Or if the person has good supports then they help too. I often don't stop myself so my girlfriend has to literally make sure I don't consume things that'll affect me.

And even then, a lot of the time people are affected by it is because they weren't receiving help or they're mentally ill. It's far more complicated than just "this piece of fiction caused this to happen!!!" as antis usually say.

Others can probably say this way better than I could. But like. I tried. I'm semiverbal and struggle with disorganized speech so. I tried my best. I just had these thoughts and needed to get them out of my head.

!!!

Also just a vague add on is the reason that antis are so pushy that all "dark" fiction is bad is because they mainly just hate sex. Nothing to it but the fact that they've been effectively taught, whether by themself or others, that sex is a bad and evil thing that can only ever cause harm unless it's monitored severely closely.