#fictive-fodder

[muddyorbsblr]

thor 1 production stills (batch 1)

There's just way too much thot fodder in these shots holy actual fuckque like we got some mango on full display

And we have that again in the form of every whore's (affectionate) favorite seat in all of the Nine Realms:

Goddamn even this shot got me thinking things:

And this shot where he's asking "Your loyalty is to me now, yes?" Sir when was it ever not? 🫠🫠 (I currently have 'sworn fealty' side eyeing me from the back burner and like yes I see you and I'm working on it 😂)

God even his silhouette is perfect and sexy, what in the actual fuckque--

How anyone in Marvel actually looked at these pictures and went "People are gonna gravitate towards Thor more than Loki" will always be a mystery to me, like y'all were joking, right? 🥴

And finally for this batch, we have the stabby boi being an entire mood looking so done with this conversation and just waiting for Old Man Odin to stop talking (I cropped it so it's only Loki because if I kept the entire picture a jump scare warning would've been needed)

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @xorpsbane @ladyofthestayingpower @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @acidcasualties @liminalpebble @alexakeyloveloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @vbecker10 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokiprompts @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @caffiend-queen @km-ffluv @kikster606 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @littlelokilad @glitchquake @gigglingtiggerv2 @november-rayne @viv-annelore @five-miles-over @gruftiela @coldnique @smirkingkitten @raqnarokr @jaidenhawke @mrs-illyrian-baby @tallseaweed @chantsdemarins @cabingrlandrandomcrap @jiyascepter @cl-0-vr @foxherder ++

[mememydid]

Okay. Uhm. I am having a small mental breakdown, because I think trauma memories just surpassed ACTUAL memory and I knew of things before actually learning of them.

Just-Okay, so there's a Gaston fictive in our system. And yesterday he was going on about typical Gaston things, but we were writing it down as we are working on a Decendents Fan Fiction, and why not get backup fodder for the character in said fic.

Anyways, I wrote down earlier this morning about Gaston's favourite thing, which he considers the most important. It is, as he says, seeing your reflection in someone's eyes. Because it means they're looking at you.

JUST NOW, I decided to watch the live actions deleted scenes. I have never watched them before in my life, and guess what the fuck was a deleted scene.

.........What the fuck.

Like, I understand having source memories from the source any alter watches prior to a split, and I of course understand having different source memories than "canon". But I swear, we have NEVER watched the deleted scenes for this movie. So HOW did our Gaston know about it? Was it also said in the animated movie?

[fictionkinfessions]

Genuinely can't tell if you're serious in the tags about watching a playthrough of tCoAaL, MPC, but if you are... I recommend the 5 hour walkthrough of all endings as they get all the special/secret dialogue.

Also, absolutely screaming and crying because if I accidentally turn you or anyone else on this blog into sourcemates, I'll know I just have the power to infect people with splitting off into fictives or even kinning. Because I've kinda already accidentally did that. 😅

Anyway, good luck, and I hope you have fun and enjoy the psychological horror visual novel with puzzle solving and RPG elements.

-your favorite goth cannibal who is only a little messed up in the head. #🩷🖤

Your timing is hilarious because I just finished a let's play, went to bed, and saw this while checking the inbox one last time.

I did just finish a no commentary let's play, but it's only 4 hours so I'll have to go back and find a proper walkthrough with all the secrets. 'full game playthrough' my ass!! I do wish I got into this sooner. It's a very cool and basically up my alley as a horror fan.

[also your choker is so cute? the lil bell? precious goth!!!]

Anyways, I can see why tumblr, et al likes you and Andy/drew so much. You're very sympathetic. Like yeah you're an asshole but there's definitely some nature vs nuture thing going on. You absolutely needed therapy as a kid / young adult and well. That didn't happen for various reasons. Capitalism, general neglect, life experience, etc. Two neglected kids / teens, lots of drama, much fodder for speculating what coulda woulda happened? That's some good 'hindsight is 20/20' that a lot can related to.

And I can see there's a decent amount of incestuous undertones. Very gothic genre, very Flower in the Attic albeit way less confinement and overt child abuse. Again, therapy might've helped but that meant more proactive parenting and less capitalism interference. [bc a person might care more about their kids if they're not burned out by working 80 hours a week] Also for you [canon you, not you necessarily] to realize your behavior was kinda unacceptable. Which imo therapy might've done, who knows.

Also for Andrew who kinda got stuck in that situation in his own shitty way. Anyone else grow up in an apartment building with no other kids, and the park was too far to walk to on your own, and there's just nothing to do but school, come home to homework, and that's it? Like really, the Graves kids have their ProblemsTM but the real villain? Capitalism.

Though I don't think I can blame children for learning from their parents. The parent Graves are very similar in dynamic, albeit without the incest [I'd assume???]. Yeah there's mental illness but that doesn't come out of nowhere. Again, nature vs nuture themes here. Also that your parents fucked him over by forcing him out of college and preventing him from even getting employment? He's legally dead. How does he even get a new identity at that point? Yeah he does some messed up things but what choices does he have? Prison? Getting sent back to the fucked up medical torture corporation? Andrew, buddy, you have all my sympathy.

Absolutely wild ride. Still trying to figure out the apartment thing, but I think I got it. Your parents sold you to a corporation who were doing medical experimentation on all of you. I think. I wonder if there really is parasites in you--from that one nurse scene-- and that's why you survived that long in the apartment? Kinda like some Resident Evil shit. Except you did not turn into a flesh monster [Birkin!?] or start monologing while being a super human [Wesker…!]. Unless those were tracking tags the nurse injected…. I guess it'll be answered in the next chapter(s?). You're both very badass to survive that shit. I think I would've simply laid down and died. [gasp what if you go to the corporation next, and it becomes a Psycho Yuppie crossover….? /jk]

Also TAR SOUL?? Slurs? Girl slurs?? I guess that's a Demon of Misogyny in addition to Flea Market Trinkets. I'm going to beat that dollar store spongebob text strain talking knock off's ass. [that the demon has no commentary on Andrew is kinda funny. 'oh it's the bro. mm. well bai.']

ok also disclaimer. Yes incest is bad and I don't support that in this life. [what happened in canons / past lives I don't judge either. You can't change the past imo.] I can appreciate that in this game it, at least, has some credence to be present within the material. It's a unhealthy situation that leads to unhealthy behavior. I didn't get the feeling it was, you know, intentionally eroticized media like some things found on a3o. Tumblr, et al, saying it's incest bait is really weird. Like, it's a visual medium, yes it's going to portray it visually? The curtains are a [color] for a reason, and this time it's not erotica. I don't think tumblr is good at shades of grey morality or subtlety.

wow this got long. Well good bye, I'm going to find the 5 hour playthrough now!

wait PS there's someone on the queue mentioning they're questioning Ashley Graves because of you…! So! Britney spears voice, oops, you did it again? LOLLERSKATES

[delamanchaland]

💗 ✅ 🗺️

💗 What helps you feel closer to your source (in a positive way)?

Playing Limbus Comapny helps a lot, as does looking at fanart and reading fics. And also, talking to other fictives also does a lot to help me feel closer to my source.

Very specifically, anything relating to Canto VII and the Family (especially Sancho and Dulcinea) helps me feel... close to the memories.

✅ What does the fandom usually get right?

Certainly not many things about the Family, that much is for sure...

But... while sometimes the discourse around it irks me, and even if I feel people have wrong ideas about our bonds... I do appreciate that even if not a traditional one: that nobody has rejected the idea the Family was, indeed, a family. It may sound like an unsatisfying answer, and I definitely get annoyed at many takes... but I do appreciate that the fandom will always usually upset that we were, in our own way, a family, even if I don't care for some specific takes on that.

🗺️ What do you miss about your world?

La Manchaland and the Family, of course. Be it our castle or the amusement park itself... I do miss the faces of the Family, and the paths we walked. I miss being able to know every single member by name, even those nameless enemies that are just fodder for battle. Lorenzo, Emilia, and all the other unrecognized members of our Family...

I also admittingly miss being able to set off on adventures alongside Sancho, although watching things in streams with @hardbloodarts had actually been quite helpful with that.

On that note: if anyone ever wants to watch something together- please, do let me know! I'll be happy to host it!

[8-bit-fanfic]

Very specific sibling characters, most usually consisting of villainous activities and like the biggest hatred for each other u’ll ever find, who become fodder for fictives of alters of ours who just love each other so freaking much and don’t have an ounce of disrespect towards each other my beloved

[seethingvortex]

hiiii i figured now's a good time to make a pinned post

im ryker, but once upon a time like 10 years ago i was @/toki-draws aka moderface

i follow from @waynekiller and my main art blog is @thundahouse , i only post OCs over there, MTL is the only fandom i am active in

my pinned got kind of long oh well it's going under the cut

im now 23 y/o and back again, army of the doomstar hype got to me

im also trans (he/him), bi, white/tsalagi o7 so my blog is def gonna be full of indigenous nathan headcanons i live and breath that shit. i do have Mento Illnesses but I'm not gonna list them, you'll have to use context clues

despite loving MTL & dethklok & brendon small's work in general i am sometimes pretty critical of the show so . especially with it's treatment (and lack thereof) of black/brown & female characters. i do still love the show but it does sometimes annoy me. the way i engage with most media is through analysis and critique, if that makes you uncomfortable then you don't have to hang out, it's ok

general DNI - bigots of course, as well as any pro ship people, these are instant blocks. im really just here to have fun, i'm not here to make waves or anything. of course since there are a lot of crossovers in different adult swim fandoms, DNI if you like south park

i dont really think i have a specific DNI in regards to the MTL fandom. <- scratch that lol, now i have to make a big directory

----

MTL DNI / SHIPPING / HC

if you hate Abigail DNI. i can understand hating how she's written, i also hate how she's written and the fact that she was basically only a learning tool for nathan/only used to cause drama between him and pickles. i will always declare this as a misogynistic writing trope (because it is) and her character got done really dirty (because she did) and ill drum up a big fuss about it every chance i get lol. i can also understand disliking her character, it's whatever, she's not for everyone, especially considering how bland she ended up. but if you hate her and constantly trash her like it's her fault she got written badly, i won't engage with you. Brendon truly fucked me up giving fandom misogynists and fujoshis a black woman for fodder

same thing goes for Magnus, if you absolutely hate him and trash him DNI

----

if you sexualize Toki's age regression DNI. if you ship Toki with Rockzo DNI. i'm dubious on MagTok, but it doesn't appear to be that popular these days anyway

i headcanon Nathan as being Miccosukee & pickles as being trans. these are really the only constant & recurring headcanons i have, otherwise im open to a bunch of stuff

the only constant romantic ship i have is Nickles, they are truly It for me. as far as the rest of the band goes, i prefer a family dynamic for them. you won't really find any romantic Skwistok, Skwisface, Murdertooth, or any other ships with Nathan or Pickles here. that being said, if you ship all of them or mix n match them up that's okay 👍👍👍👍

nathan fictive (fiction kin? other hearted? i don't know the difference, he's the only character ive ever "kinned")👍 i originally wasn't going to say anything but everyone seems to be pretty open here so (cartoon slide whistle noise). you can also just call me Nate or Nathan, that's okay 👍

i am a-ok with doubles & i don't have any current canonmates 👍

if there are any MTL discord servers out there i might be interested, they don't necessarily have to be fictive or kin related i just cant stop talking about this show & i need a place to inflict my thoughts on people. i am however extremely wishy washy when it comes to meeting new people and i might flake out so. tell me or don't tell me, let the tide decide

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Happens here too. The US.

And I tried to address a lot of this stuff and some of the things said in my cab driver novel.

The problem it's "hard to connect" to by an industry predominantly filled with people who've never experienced that and don't understand the impact to people, character, and how much that changes personal narrative and thus back into a fictive one from that perspective.

Your entire thought process on life and risks and everything are different.

There's an expectation for certain Asian communities to fall into the model minority trap.

Also be: submissive, meek, compliant.

When I first pursued acting I saw this stereotype enforced and expected almost unknowingly by people.

Same in fiction.

It's changing now, but...it's an uphill battle.

Take for example the history of Sikhs in warfare. Used as cannon fodder by the British, well respected warriors, served in armies around the world, even WWI and WWII for America as well, not just the British. But you don't hear about that. It's something that's talked about in Asiatic circles.

With what Bruce Lee did for the Chinese community. He smashed through stereotypes and showed badassery. Chinese martial arts. A Chinese ass kicking hero. But there were obstacles.

And it's what motivated me to write a book based off things I saw and experienced and also understand - trying to address stuff I don't think people are aware of especially in fiction. And, make a narrative that actually reads in that way - the pacing, considerations, and more.

We're told to always have actiony/ACTIVE characters.

But what we forget is a lot of poc's don't have that activeness/agency in their own lives due to certain systems, expectations, and things like this. And, other concerns. So what then does that narrative actually look like? And, what does that fight and reconciliation with one's self to get that agency look like as well? I worked hard to answer that and more in The Cab Driver.

I def need to thank WaylandSmith1 and ZacTopping for reading, liking, blurbbing, and vetting the accuracy of certain law enforcement, gang, and other aspects of the novel too.

But, yeah. It's been on my mind.

[fictive-fodder]

|| Steven Grant vs. You : III ||

A tiny story where you discover that your sweet, handsome coworker is just as much into Egyptology as you are into ancient Greece- and the playful battle that ensues.

PART I - PART II - PART III

Word Count: 2.9K

Tag List

Read this on A03!

Referenced works- Hesiod. Theogony and Works and Days (Oxford World's Classics) OUP Oxford. Richard Mayde. Ancient Egypt, Dodd, Mead Gerald D. Waxman, Astronomical Tidbits: A Layperson's Guide to Astronomy

Let us begin our singing. It will haunt this great and holy mountain, and we will dance on our soft feet round the violet-dark spring and the altar of the mighty son of Kronos. We will bathe our gentle skin in Permessos. Then, on the highest slope we will make our dances, fair and lovely, stepping lively in time. From there we go forth, veiled in thick mist, and walk by night, uttering beautiful voice. 

So said mighty Zeus’ daughters, they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. Come now, from the Muses let us begin, as they tell of what is and what shall be and what was aforetime, voices in unison. The words flow untiring from their mouths, and sweet. 

“I mean… just wow…” Steven sighed, eyes twinkling at you from across your desk. 

“I know.” You nodded with deep satisfaction. 

“You’re right, too.” he continued, “You really do get this sense that they were there.” 

“It feels like it, huh?” you agreed, “With ancient Egypt, you have Pharaoh as the representative of higher power, but there isn’t this deep and messy interaction with the gods that I’ve come to love so much out of Greek myth. Especially when historical artists made work where they themselves interacted with gods, or were at least in conversation with them, like this or like Sappho.” 

Lately, when Steven worked mornings, he had taken to peering into your cubicle on his breaks to see if you weren’t too busy for him to visit. It was quickly becoming your favorite ritual, and you found yourself often looking past your cubicle’s entrance as if you could will his curly head of hair to appear. 

“I think the closest equivalent I can come to is the temple of Philae…” Steven thought aloud, he leaned over your desk excitedly. You smiled, nodding as you thought of the description of it in the book Steven lent you. 

Close by this temple of Osiris at Philae was a small one, dedicated to his queen and sister, Isis. A later writer speaks of it as “the most strangely wild and beautiful spot he ever beheld. Here spreads a deep drift of silvery sand, fringed by rich verdure and purple blossoms; there, a grove of palms, intermingled with flowering acacia; and there, through vistas of craggy cliffs and gloomy foliage, gleams a calm blue lake, with the sacred island in the midst, green to the water’s edge, except where the walls of the old temple city are reflected.”  

“From the little I’ve glimpsed so far, it seems like Osirus and Isis’ marriage is a very popular story?”

“Oh, yea, super.” Steven nodded significantly. “And for good reason too- I mean sewing your husband’s body back from fourteen pieces is quite a testimony to your love, I think.” There was a quiet pause as you took a moment to make sure the two of you were still being ignored, before Steven continued, “Is there a love story you like from Greek mythology?” 

“Oh-” you took in a deep breath, overwhelmed by the question. “There are so many… I mean so, so many. You have the big ones, you know- like Odysseus and Penelope, Patroclus and Achilles, Hades and Persephone, the love triangle of Aphrodite, Ares and Hephaestus… the Greeks adored a good love story. They had 8 different kinds of Love, after all.” 

“Eight, really?” Steven asked, leaning even further over your desk, his smile unfading. 

“Yes! You have Storge, familial love. Philautia, self love. Agape, which I quite like, that’s love for everyone.”

“Ooh that’s very grand.” Steven chuckled. 

“It is! Philia is also lovely- that’s deep friendship.” 

“Alright, that was four.”  he counted, tilting his head as he looked into your eyes. If there were any emails or phone calls incoming you would have never known. You met Steven’s gaze, smiling back at him and feeling, strangely, as if you couldn’t inhale as much air as you would like to.

“Mhm… then we have Mania, which is obsessive love. You know, when you can’t stop thinking about someone and you’re just-” you shook your head, grinning, “kinda like when you first fall in love for someone, really hard, and you can’t think about anything else, you’re just tortured?” 

A change passed over Steven’s face that was initially hard for you to read. At first, you thought the brightness of his eyes dimmed at your last words, but as you searched his face you realized that his eyes weren’t less bright due to dismay or boredom, they were less bright because his pupils were dilating as he watched you. Steven was so close to you that you could even see your own silhouette in his widening gaze. 

“Um…” you continued on, swallowing dryly, “A..Another favorite of mine, Ludus… which is playful love, or like- young love. Eros, probably the best known, as it’s the spicy one. And lastly you have the love I’m certain Osirus and Isis shared…”

“What’s that one called?” Steven asked, eyes widening. 

“Pragma, longstanding love… kind of the end goal, really.” 

You jumped with a start as your desk phone began to ring loudly. Steven cleared his throat, pulling himself off of your desk and back into his chair, rubbing the side of his face with one hand as you twisted to pick up your phone. You frowned as you recognized the number on caller i.d. to be the gift shop’s extension. “Ut oh Steven…” you mumbled, picking up the phone. “Reception- how can I help you?” you answered as neutrally as possible, but you almost lost your professional composure as you glanced nervously at Steven, and found him staring at you like a child caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. 

“Hello- could you please tell me if there is a gift shop employee in the office? His name is Stevie?”

“Stevie?” you repeated, confused. Steven rolled his eyes, exasperated. “No, there is definitely no Stevie here I’m sorry to say… office is pretty empty. Is there something I can help you wi-” the phone clicked in your ear. Frowning, you pulled the receiver away from you to look at it, before hanging up the line and looking at Steven.

“Did Donna just hang up on you?” he asked, startled. 

“I think she did?” you replied laughing, aghast. 

“Oi- I hate that, I’m sorry.” Steven grimaced, standing up. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.” 

“I’m not concerned, we work in two totally separate departments.” you shrugged. This seemed to reassure Steven as he patted down his pants pockets and made sure he had everything.

“Time to go sell some plastic ankhs?” you teased, grinning. 

“Oh yes.” Steven replied lamely. “Some Nike of Samothrace snow globes as well.” 

“Ouch- you got me.” you laughed, standing up too. You opened your mouth to ask about seeing him for lunch before you stopped yourself- what if you were being too demanding of his attention? With these new visits, any free time Steven had was being claimed by you. It felt presumptive to assume he wouldn’t like some time for himself. “Um… do you have any plans you're looking forward to, today?” 

“Finishing the Theogony, that’s about it.” Steven replied, stepping out of your cubicle. “Talk about it over lunch, yea?” 

You felt yourself blush. “If you want to!” 

“Cheers!” Steven exclaimed, before darting away. 

You sat back in your office chair and swiveled to face your computer, smiling to yourself. Steven was good. He was so, so good. Sighing dreamily, you refreshed your email and watched your screen filled with messages. 

As you clicked through your emails you couldn’t help but to keep thinking about Steven, how lucky you were to become friends after only a few weeks of working at the museum. Even though Donna and Steven’s relationship didn’t seem great, part of you envied the amount they got to interact as a team. Your role was mostly emails between curators, accountants, marketing agents, and the Liaison Department. 

You straightened in your chair as something occurred to you, hadn’t Steven said that he wanted to be a tour guide? You opened an email from Marketing briefing the Liaison Department on a new collection of work that would be showcased soon, asking the liaisons to study up on the attached pdf’s of art history so they could speak about the collection. You still hadn’t figured out why you seemed to be CC’d on every single email from any department under the museum roof, but now that didn’t seem so bad. They were all there- any branch manager you needed was available to you… even the curation team for the ancient Egyptian collection.

“What have you got today?” you asked as you sat down beside Steven in the break room. 

“I think what you mean is, what have I got us today!”’ Steven said triumphantly, as he pulled from his bag not one, but two lunches. 

“What!” you exclaimed, eyebrows raised. 

“Yea dove I made you lunch!” Steven grinned, all the more satisfied by your surprise. “It’s not bad either, we’ve got apples, some crisps, and avocado sandwiches! They’re quite good really, they’ve got lettuce and tomato in, and this spicy mustard.” 

Steven set your lunch before you with a level of excitement equal to a conductor beginning a symphony. All you could do was stare, and make some strange smile with your mouth partly open, as you looked between him and the slightly crumpled, but still appetizing sandwich before you. 

“I wanted to try and make this vegan caramel for the apples but I rather bungled that…” he continued, reminiscing on his caramel attempt with a cringe. 

“I’m-“ you started to say, but you didn’t actually know what you were. Aside from the obvious attributes: deeply flattered, touched, and surprised. There was a tightness in your throat that you’d only usually felt when you were about to cry, but there were no tears forming in your eyes. You stared at the sandwich as if it held monumental power. 

With a crunch, Steven bit into his apple. He nudged your arm with his elbow as he took another bite. You jumped a little and picked up your own. 

“Cheers!” Steven said, tapping his apple against yours. Chucking, you took a bite. 

You couldn’t have known how strange it was for Steven to be eating a lunch he made with a friend. He was nearly as surprised as you, that he was able to sit down with you today and provide this meal. Steven had never been very good about remembering to make himself up a lunch to take to work, but the idea of also making one for you, however modest it may be, was so exciting that it stuck in his mind. Instead of only remembering he should have packed food by the time he was clocking out for lunch, he had stopped at the market on the way home last night, imagining how this very moment would play out. As was usual, he had been hesitant to fall asleep, but the thought of having time in the morning to carefully assemble sandwiches gripped him with excitement and so he’d done his best, making sure his ankle restraint was tightly fastened to his leg no later than midnight, and stared up at his dark ceiling, silently begging it to let him sleep peacefully. 

When Steven woke up it was nearly dawn. He was so bewildered by the unique light of early morning that for a moment he thought he’d only slept for a few minutes. His ankle was still securely fastened to its brace, and even more profoundly, he felt rested. Steven felt like he had won, but there was also a bitter sweetness to realizing his night had gone exactly as intended- that it was unlikely to happen again, or consistently.

He tried to brush off that anxiety though, as he watched you take the first bite of the sandwich he made. Whether you were just being angelically polite or genuinely enjoying it, he appreciated your attention nevertheless. What was better? To try and have some plans, some gifts, some special moments never materialize- or to never meet the opportunity to surprise you and make you smile? 

That was an easy answer. 

“You failed to mention earlier,” Steven started, chewing through a large bite of bread, “what your favorite ancient Greek love story is?” 

“Oh right! Well that’s so difficult!” you groaned, grinning. “The reason may be nuanced, but I love Selene and Endymion’s story.” 

“What is it?” 

“Selene is the Moon goddess in the ancient Greek pantheon, and Endymion was a mortal shepherd Prince that would take his flock over hills and mountains at night. They fell in love, but because she was immortal and Endymion was not, Zeus extended his life by casting an eternal sleep upon Endymion.” 

“Alright?” Steven responded, gesturing for you to keep explaining. 

“That’s pretty much the whole story.” you laughed.

“Why is that your favorite then?” Steven asked, more spellbound than anything. 

“Because! Okay this might sound a little cheesy but-”

“Sorry, I can’t do cheese. I’m vegan, remember?” Steven said with mock severity. 

“Wow.” you replied flatly. You leaned back a little to watch Steven have a very hard time not laughing at his own joke. “Proud of yourself?” 

“Go on, keep telling me why-” he choked out, bringing his hands to cover his mouth. 

“No, no…” you replied, you resisted the twitch of a smile on your own face. “I don’t think I can after being eviscerated by your lactose free wit.” 

“Please-” Steven wheezed faintly, nodding encouragingly, “Please, tell me.” 

“Well-” you sighed haggardly, “What I was going to say is that I like it, because to me it feels metaphorical? No one should really ‘see’ the moon because it is at its best when we should be asleep, and yet we have and we do- and we have done for hundreds of years? Cultures with no connection all over the world have fallen in love with the Moon, which appears in its highest glory when our eyes should be closed? And I just think of that when thinking of Endymion. I think of how the night sky infatuates us, how humankind has always been so rhapsodic about it, even though as creatures we are useless in the dark and the night does little for anyone in a practical sense.

“Endymion is in this eternal sleep, induced by his love for the Moon… again, metaphorically, he’s fed by his affection for something so lovely? It just so simply encapsulates this understanding that people had way back then that even in a time of hardship, beauty was longed for and nourished humankind?” 

Steven had stopped eating. He was simply staring at you, eyebrows raised. 

“I know it sounds like I’ve thought about it too much- it’s because I do.” you qualified, embarrassed. 

“No-” Steven replied, voice soft, brow furrowed. “You’re alright… that was, that’s good.” 

You were not convinced that Steven was genuine in his reassurance. You cast your eyes downward, mind racing. This was an overstep on your part- you got a little too romantic, waxed a little too poetic about your favorite topic. You wanted to try to ground your thoughts. “Um… there’s an… there’s a quote from this book.” you offered weakly, pulling your phone out of your pocket for reference. 

You read aloud, “There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff.“ The quiet you were greeted with felt unbearable. Quickly tucking your phone back in your pocket, you smiled, and sighed. “I mean those are the words of an astronomer, but the ancient Greeks were saying the same thing- We can’t help ourselves. We’re all in love with the moon.”

Mania.  Steven thought.

“I…” Steven started, before stopping himself with a shake of his head. He still hadn’t touched any food. Sighing your name, Steven glanced into your eyes, head still shaking. “You… um, you think- You think very beautifully.” 

“Hah-” you breathed, it was a sound of deepest regret. Why? Why had you been so open. You could have probably cooked an egg on your cheek, it felt so warm. You were desperate for some way out of being the talkative one. “You know, I don’t actually know if there was a Moon god in the Egyptian pantheon?” 

“Oh-” Steven’s tone changed to something significantly less enchanted. “Yea. His name is Khonshu, god of the Moon, protector of those who travel at night.” 

“...not a fan?” you asked, unable to help smiling at how personally offended Steven seemed by invoking Khonshu. 

“Not really.” he replied, shrugging. 

“Aha!” you grinned, taking a triumphant bite of your apple. “And there it is.”

“What?” Steven asked.

“The beginning of the end, Steven.” you hummed, “Greek god versus Egyptian God, Selene beats Khonshu.” 

“HAH!” Steven laughed so loudly the rest of your coworkers in the break room glanced over. Why did this always happen to you two? Steven grasped at his chest, his eyes closed by the strength of his giggles. “Alright dove, that one you can have.”

TAG LIST:

@oliviagreenaway​  @then-he-was-wrong-about-me​  @b0xerdancer

[arimabari]

I do not know what Maybeth is but your writing is really lovely. 💛💛💛

you're so sweet thank you so much ;;

[the-freckled-collective]

Hey! So host is panicking as always /lh Any idea how to tell if a new fictive exists or if it’s just hyperfixation brain fodder?

[fictive-fodder]

Awwh, thank you @siriuslychessi​ for the tag, that’s so sweet <3 I love stuff like this!

1. A comma and hyphen surplus

2. Slow burn agony... quite a bit of punishment before happy things can happen.

3. A love letter to color theory in most paragraphs

4. Cinematic universe level aesthetics even for the most mundane settings.

5. Gender non conforming / inclusive 2nd person style fic :)

My writing energy is fully generated by the tears of my readers and I *will* slurp them up for sustenance.

I will tag my one and only @thedorkyastra !!!

5 Things You'll Find In My Writing

@freedombooksflowers thank you for the tag! 🥰

Religious metaphors, and especially Eucharist imagery. The body and the blood, the adoration, confession and absolution; prodigal sons and forgiveness; the mundanities of life and death as ritual, and the murmured I love yous as liturgy

The resounding goodness of James Potter

The sea in one form or another, metaphorical or actual

A fascination with place - buildings having a personality of their own, and the setting as a vital character; golden Oxford colleges, crumbling Cotswold piles, and rickety Edwardian terraces, art galleries and dusty, tomb-like safe houses

Stuffed chickens: in every fic where Peverell Hall (my HC for James' childhood home) features, there you will also find a taxidermied chicken.

Tagging @nymphadoratonqs @siriusly-sapphic @jennandblitz @brokentoasterrr @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world @siriuslychessi @chierafied

[delamanchaland]

Hmhmhm . . . ❌💔❓🌸, perhaps? For the ask game

❌ What does the fandom usually get wrong?

A few of us have been talking a lot about this, but... the way they forget the Family was, indeed, once a Family. We had happiness, temperamental and whimsical as I was. We laughed together, cried together, and moved forward tomorrow. The 200 years of hell does not erase the past.

... But you know, I think I get misunderstood a bit too. I think some people just boil me down to the concept of Dad Quixote who could beat up anyone if he wasn't hungry and is really strong. They overlook that I definitely had a lot of problems too. There is a reality that I had, in my life, fairly blatant favoritism when it came to Sancho in general, regardless if she was the reason I finally decided to build the Family or not. I also changed my whims on a moment's notice, sometimes scouring the Family to search for things for like, fine thread for sewing only for it to become immediately notice it. I knew the Family suffered in La Manchaland, but still convinced myself if everyone could hold on just a bit longer we would all have a happy ending.

And while my feelings on the World of La Manchaland Mirror World are... complicated, I don't think it's inaccurate either- then when I set my eyes on something and Sancho did not, even our history together did not save her from becoming a victim to my whims and lack of thoughts. The reality is I was a man who turned a blind eye to things that did not plead him, and nobody, not even Sancho could always be safe from me simply... acting like they did not exist in pursuit of my happiness.

I guess what I'm saying is "Dad Quixote" while perfectly fine as a nickname, I guess I cannot help but be unhappy when that's what I'm boiled down to. It ignores the harm I brought as well in favor of only a joke.

💔 Who are you missing right now?

While I feel blessed to have found other Sanchos, Dulcinea, and even talking with other people as well... I won't lie. I still miss Bari terribly. I hope if she's in this world that she is doing alright.

I miss the rest of the Family too. All of them. Even the nameless ones you just fight as canon fodder. Dulcinea, Nicolina, Curiambro, Cassetti, Emilia... all of you down to the last. Please know your Father loved you, regrets what happened, and misses you.

... And it's odd, even though she hurt me so terribly and only exists in my memories as an extension of Stardust's trauma... the woman I once loved when my name was still Alonso Quijano. Even after centuries pass and I know she was a bad person... I still can't help but miss that one woman who once was by my side. If I had offered you immortality by my side and a place in the Family I was making, would you have accepted it?

... It's best I don't dwell on those kinds of thoughts for long though.

❓ Do you prefer when people are familiar or unfamiliar with your source when they meet you?

Indifferent! I suppose I only slightly prefer it, as it's so hard to talk to people about myself and our part of the story without spoilering all of Canto VII if they ever get into it.

🌸 Do you feel comfortable in your fiction-based identity?

I do. At first... I was nervous my identity and shape would shift to something else entirely. But I am proud to say I am La Manchaland's Don Quixote! The experiences I've had would not exist without it... I would simply be another fairly lonely fictive in a system who simply indulges in the host's happiness instead of finding his own.

I say it with pride: I am Quixote. Or Don Quixote; 'Don' as a signifier of my nobility!

[introjected-confession]

Heres some love for introjects who realized they were trans after they split. we're super valid even if others say we are not. You do not owe your gender to your source (or anything to it). Im a fictive of Morishige from corpse party, and I realized I was a girl after already socially establishing I was a boy. My own system was supportive but I've had issues with singlets and systems alike, endo or not, being cruel to me and misgendering me on purpose. Its really hard sometimes, too many people treat us like fandom toys to care about our realness, and that can manifest as transphobia, especially if your transness isnt "queer enough" for them. They viewed me going from identifying as gay and cis, to trans and straight as a loss. You are not a loss. You figuring out who you are is a wonderful thing. Dont let anyone say otherwise, especially not people who treat you like fandom fodder.

✰ ^^^^^ endos 🌧️ tulpas 🌧️ supporters DNI

[theatticoneighth]

Watching The Queen’s Gambit; on the Remarkable Unexceptionality of Beth Harmon

‘With some people, chess is a pastime. With others, it is a compulsion, even an addiction. And every now and then, a person comes along for whom it is a birthright. Now and then, a small boy appears and dazzles us with his precocity, at what may be the world’s most difficult game. But what if that boy were a girl? A young, unsmiling girl, with brown eyes, red hair, and a dark blue dress? Into the male-dominated world of the nation’s top chess tournaments, strolls a teenage girl with bright, intense eyes, from Fairfield High School in Lexington, Kentucky. She is quiet, well-mannered, and out for blood.’

The preceding epigraph opens a fictional profile of Beth Harmon featured in the third episode of The Queen’s Gambit (2020), and is written and published after the protagonist — a teenage, rookie chess player, no less — beats a series of ranked pros to win her first of many tournaments. In the same deft manner as it depicts the character’s ascent to her global chess stardom, the piece also sets up the series’s narrative: this is evidence of a great talent, it tells us, a grandmaster in the making. As with most other stories about prodigies, this new entry into a timeworn genre is framed unexceptionally by its subject’s exceptionality.

Yet as far as tales regaled about young chess wunderkinds go, Beth Harmon’s stands out in more ways than one. That she is a girl in a male-dominated world has clearly not gone unremarked by both her diegetic and nondiegetic audiences. That her life has thus far — and despite her circumstances — been relatively uneventful, however, is what makes this show so remarkable. After all, much of our culture has undeniably primed us to expect the consequential from those whom we raise upon the pedestal of genius. As Harmon’s interviewer suggests in her conversation with Harmon for the latter’s profile, “Creativity and psychosis often go hand in hand. Or, for that matter, genius and madness.” So quickly do we attribute extraordinary accomplishments to similarly irregular origins that we presume an inexplicability of our geniuses: their idiosyncrasies are warranted, their bad behaviours are excused, and deep into their biographies we dig to excavate the enigmatic anomalies behind their gifts. Through our myths of exceptionality, we make the slightest aberrations into metonyms for brilliance.

Nonetheless, for all her sullenness, non-conformity, and her plethora of addictions, Beth Harmon seems an uncommonly normal girl. No doubt this may be a contentious view, as evinced perhaps by the chorus of viewers and reviewers alike who have already begun to brand the character a Mary Sue. Writing on the series for the LA Review of Books, for instance, Aaron Bady construes The Queen’s Gambit as “the tragedy of Bobby Fischer [made] into a feminist fantasy, a superhero story.” In the same vein, Jane Hu also laments in her astute critique of the Cold War-era drama its flagrant and saccharine wish-fulfillment tendencies. “The show gets to have it both ways,” she observes, “a beautiful heroine who leans into the edge of near self-destruction, but never entirely, because of all the male friends she makes along the way.” Sexual difference is here reconstituted as the unbridgeable chasm that divides the US from the Soviet Union, whereas the mutual friendliness shared between Harmon and her male chess opponents becomes a utopic revision of history. Should one follow Hu’s evaluation of the series as a period drama, then the retroactive ascription of a recognisably socialist collaborative ethos to Harmon and her compatriots is a contrived one indeed. 

Accordingly, both Hu and Bady conclude that the series grants us depthless emotional satisfaction at the costly expense of realism: its all-too-easy resolutions swiftly sidestep any nascent hint of overwhelming tension; its resulting calm betrays our desire for reprieve. Underlying these arguments is the fundamental assumption that the unembellished truth should also be an inconvenient one, but why must we always demand difficulty from those we deem noteworthy? Summing up the show’s conspicuous penchant for conflict-avoidance, Bady writes that: 

over and over again, the show strongly suggests — through a variety of genre and narrative cues — that something bad is about to happen. And then … it just doesn’t. An orphan is sent to a gothic orphanage and the staff … are benign. She meets a creepy, taciturn old man in the basement … and he teaches her chess and loans her money. She is adopted by a dysfunctional family and the mother … takes care of her. She goes to a chess tournament and midway through a crucial game she gets her first period and … another girl helps her, who she rebuffs, and she is fine anyway. She wins games, defeating older male players, and … they respect and welcome her, selflessly helping her. The foster father comes back and …she has the money to buy him off. She gets entangled in cold war politics and … decides not to be.

In short, everything that could go wrong … simply does not go wrong.

Time and again predicaments arise in Harmon’s narrative, but at each point, she is helped fortuitously by the people around her. In turn, the character is allowed to move through the series with the restrained unflappability of a sleepwalker, as if unaffected by the drama of her life.  Of course, this is not to say that she fails to encounter any obstacle on her way to celebrity and success — for neither her childhood trauma nor her substance-laden adolescence are exactly rosy portraits of idyll — but only that such challenges seem so easily ironed out by that they hardly register as true adversity. In other words, the show takes us repeatedly to the brink of what could become a life-altering crisis but refuses to indulge our taste for the spectacle that follows. Skipping over the Aristotelian climax, it shields us from the height of suspense, and without much struggle or effort on the viewers’ part, hands us our payoff. Consequently lacking the epochal weight of plot, little feels deserved in Harmon’s story.

In his study of eschatological fictions, The Sense of an Ending, Frank Kermode would associate such a predilection for catastrophes with our abiding fear of disorder. Seeing as time, as he argues, is “purely successive [and] disorganised,” we can only reach to the fictive concords of plot to make sense of our experiences. Endings in particular serve as the teleological objective towards which humanity projects our existence, so we hold paradigms of apocalypse closely to ourselves to restore significance to our lives. It probably comes as no surprise then that in a year of chaos and relentless disaster — not to mention the present era of extreme precariousness, doomscrolling, and the 24/7 news cycle, all of which have irrevocably attuned us to the dreadful expectation of “the worst thing to come” — we find ourselves eyeing Harmon’s good fortune with such scepticism. Surely, we imagine, something has to have happened to the character for her in order to justify her immense consequence. But just as children are adopted each day into loving families and chess tournaments play out regularly without much strife, so too can Harmon maintain low-grade dysfunctional relationships with her typically flawed family and friends. 

In any case, although “it seems to be a condition attaching to the exercise of thinking about the future that one should assume one's own time to stand in extraordinary relation to it,” not all orphans have to face Dickensian fates and not all geniuses have to be so tortured (Kermode). The fact remains that the vagaries of our existence are beyond perfect reason, and any attempt at thinking otherwise, while vital, may be naive. Contrary to most critics’ contentions, it is hence not The Queen’s Gambit’s subversions of form but its continued reach towards the same that holds up for viewers such a comforting promise of coherence. The show comes closest to disappointing us as a result when it eschews melodrama for the straightforward. Surprised by the ease and randomness of Harmon’s life, it is not difficult for one to wonder, four or five episodes into the show, what it is all for; one could even begin to empathise with Hu’s description of the series as mere “fodder for beauty.” 

Watching over the series now with Bady’s recap of it in mind, however, I am reminded oddly not of the prestige and historical dramas to which the series is frequently compared, but the low-stakes, slice-of-life cartoons that had peppered my childhood. Defined by the prosaicness of its settings, the genre punctuates the life’s mundanity with brief moments of marvel to accentuate the curious in the ordinary. In these shows, kindergarteners fix the troubles of adults with their hilarious playground antics, while time-traveling robot cats and toddler scientists alike are confronted with the woes of chores. Likewise, we find in The Queen’s Gambit a comparable glimpse of the quotidian framed by its protagonist’s quirks. Certainly, little about the Netflix series’ visual and narrative features would identify it as a slice-of-life serial, but there remains some merit, I believe, in watching it as such. For, if there is anything to be gained from plots wherein nothing is introduced that cannot be resolved in an episode or ten, it is not just what Bady calls the “drowsy comfort” of satisfaction — of knowing that things will be alright, or at the very least, that they will not be terrible. Rather, it is the sense that we are not yet so estranged from ourselves, and that both life and familiarity persists even in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Perhaps some might find such a tendency towards the normal questionable, yet when all the world is on fire and everyone clambers for acclaim, it is ultimately the ongoingness of everyday life for which one yearns. As Harmon’s childhood friend, Jolene, tells her when she is once again about to fall off the wagon, “You’ve been the best at what you do for so long, you don’t even know what it’s like for the rest of us.” For so long, and especially over the past year, we have catastrophized the myriad crises in which we’re living that we often overlook the minor details and habits that nonetheless sustain us. To inhabit the congruence of both the remarkable and its opposite in the singular figure of Beth Harmon is therefore to be reminded of the possibility of being outstanding without being exceptional — that is, to not make an exception of oneself despite one’s situation — and to let oneself be drawn back, however placid or insignificant it may be, into the unassuming hum of dailiness. It is in this way of living that one lives on, minute by minute, day by day, against the looming fear and anxiety that seek to suspend our plodding regular existence. It is also in this way that I will soon be turning the page on the last few months in anticipation of what is to come. 

Born and raised in the perpetually summery tropics — that is, Singapore — Rachel Tay wishes she could say her life was just like a still from Call Me By Your Name: tanned boys, peaches, and all. Unfortunately, the only resemblance that her life bears to the film comes in the form of books, albeit ones read in the comfort of air-conditioned cafés, and not the pool, for the heat is sweltering and the humidity unbearable. A fervent turtleneck-wearer and an unrepentant hot coffee-addict, she is thus the ideal self-parodying Literature student, and the complete anti-thesis to tropical life.

[toracainz]

Thanks for the tag @pleasurebuttonwrites

tag 9 people you want to get to know more

last song: Change by NF

last show: Carnival Row

last movie: I think it was 10 Years? I don’t remember 😅

currently watching: Campaign 3 of Critical Role (or Moon Knight…I need to watch mando)

currently reading: Moon Knight fanfics

current obsession: …it’s uh…it’s Moon Knight

no pressure tags: @bit-dodgy-innit @astroboots @luvpedropascal @oscarisaacsspit @xbellaxcarolinax @forever-rogue @fictive-fodder @hoedamn-eron @loki-hargreeves

tag 9 people you want to get to know more

—tagged by @oncasette

last song: little waltz by joep beving

last show: the mandalorian (aaahhh I finally started watching it last night!!)

last movie: 13 going on 30 (was feeling nostalgic a few days ago, had a marathon of cosy movies like that)

currently watching: critical role campaign 3 episode 51 (it's friday bitches 🌚)

currently reading: shadow and bone (I'm still slowly eating my way through that audiobook...)

current obsession: the bread I'm currently baking (like I said, it's friday hehe)

no pressure tags: @fleurfairie @chvoswxtch @lucasnclair @fxllfaiiry @forourmoons @midniteluv @wanturvideo @magicchai @gaelic-symphony

[chroma-asks]

Here’s a FAQ because at some point we might need it

Q: Who is Chroma?

A: Chroma is basically the physical body we all reside in. It’s not the body’s legal name, but we really don’t care unless it involves Chroma’s parents, work, or legal matters. Essentially, it’s what you would see if you were to meet us in person. Alternatively, the body can go by Marie.

Q: What’s a “System”?

A:  Systems are formed from childhood trauma as a form of defense mechanism where the mind “fractures” to make alters. This is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, but there is another type of the same disorder, which is the other side of the same coin(and what we have); Other Specified Dissociative Disorder. The BIGGEST difference between the two is that the latter does not give amnesia when a different alter takes the lead. More Details.

Alters are separate people within the fractured mind formed as a means of protecting said child, either through making them forget about the trauma and holding it within themselves, by helping the child through life by taking care of things that affect them negatively, or both. Though this does not mean certain alters can’t hurt the host or body. These kinds of alters are called Persecutors, but in our system we just call them Assholes.

Alters CAN still continue to be formed throughout time, but it’s usually during or after a heavily stressful(if not traumatic) event. The FIRST alter would need to be formed before 8 years old, from what I’ve heard. Freya’s told me this was the case for us, but I wouldn’t know personally because I am an alter myself taking her place as host. I didn’t exist until Chroma turned 12. She then relinquished control to me and it’s been me ever since. I did, however, fuse with a good amount of childhood memories during the transition, so when I was first formed, I couldn’t even tell the difference until Freya explained everything. It explains the memory problems though.

Q: How come [insert fictional character] is in your system?/What’s a “Fictive”

A: Recently, I found an easier way to explain Fictives(or Fictional Introjects, alternatively): They are alters who take on the forms of things or characters the host is familiar with. This isn’t exactly a phenomenon, but rather is actually quite common among systems. It’s like a child going through an event so horrible to them that their brain creates an alter with the appearance, personality, and even memories of Superman to protect them. As I mentioned before, it’s a defense mechanism.

A lot of times, some fictives gain a sense of self and change throughout their life within the system. Many systems have fictives whose personalities and views grow and become barely recognizable from how they are in their source. Alters are people too, regardless of where they came from and/or whatever caused them to form. Basically saying, don’t be surprised or angry if someone’s fictive isn’t how you headcanon them. They are a person, just like you, and last I checked it’s pretty insulting to be compared to something else like you’re not good enough.

Q: Can I become a System?

A: Short answer; If you aren’t one already, probably no. I would not personally recommend trying to be a System. To reiterate a previous statement, Systems are formed from traumatic experiences during childhood. As fun as being a System might seem like it is, we’ve gone through a whole lot of shit to get to the silly shenanigans we go through now, some of the later which even happened internally within the system. Salem for a long time often tried to kill Chroma because the parents convinced her that she was a demon(in a religious sense) and the only way she could be free is by destroying her “prison”. It was incredibly terrifying and I would like for us to never go through that again, but things really do just happen out of our control.  

 We’ve been dealing with OSDD and what it’s like to be a system for well over ten years. For the majority of it, we learned through experiences, and trial and error. Only about five or so years ago did we go to a psychiatrist and learn that there was a name for all the bullshit we’ve gotten into. Since then, we’ve been doing more research and going to therapy. The therapy actually helped us learn how to better communicate with each other and work as a team since we’re all stuck here together. However, the team part is still a work in progress.

Q: How the hell do you remember everyone’s names??

A: We get this one a lot. Imagine you’re eternally stuck in a classroom with 80+ other assholes and almost all of them pester you. You’d remember who’s who eventually. 

Q: Sensory, Memory and Standby? What does all of this mean??

A: Those of us listed in the description are the Sensory. We’re the alters most connected to the physical world, basically the most frequent fronters. The Memory are less-frequently in the front, and are tasked with balancing memories and relaying them if/when necessary. The Standby are crisis control, emergency replacements, and take care of internal maintenance. The goal for them is that we as a system never get to a point where any of the Standby are required to front. All of us can communicate on the blog, but some people may be rarer than others. 

Q: What’s the inner world like?

A: The inner world(which we have come to call Color Isle) is the environment within the mind we live in, formed as a joint effort by all of the Primary Branch, since we have more power over the laws and physics of this place when we can actually manage to work together. It has an entire ecosystem designed to suit all of our needs, including entire thousands of acres of land for those of us who require a lot of space as territory.

We have just about everything, from an enormous city, to a vast desert, to a jungle, and even a volcano(maybe eventually I’ll get a snowy wasteland...). Hell, we even have an underworld abyss, where Jelose was presumably born. New buildings, features, habitats, and tech are frequently being planned or added, so sometimes it’s a lot to keep up with. Most of the time I don’t even get to see it myself since I barely get any breaks. I’m almost always stuck in the control room, which is basically the room that gives sensory access to the outside world. However, there’s hopes for renovations soon, if we can manage to reduce sources of stress in the near future.

Whoever is touching the panel is fronting, meaning they have control over what the body does in that given moment, as well as linked senses. Yes, multiple people can front at once, and it is chaotic. If they’re not touching the panel but are still hanging out in the control room, they’re co-conscious(or co-con for short). This means they can see and hear what’s going on in the outside world, but they cannot interact. The panel is the only way to interact with the outside, so for aesthetic purposes, we designed it to look like a combination of a computer setup and a video game controller. Other terminology you might come across on this blog that aren’t included in this FAQ can be found here.

Also keep in mind the physics in here are VERY wonky and we still have yet to pinpoint the laws of this world. Personally, I find it hilarious because that just means even though we all created this place together, we just could not decide on how things should work. The only real set law that that this world has is the existence of NPCs, which are essentially faceless replicas meant to live and act as outer world humans do. They don’t have any real impact on this place besides just being filler to add to the civilization aesthetic and food/fodder for the kill-happy alters in order to keep them busy and satisfied with living here and NOT killing each other. 

The NPCs will always be here as an infinite resource, constantly replenishing no matter how many of them are massacred. We can interact with them, they’re just generic as hell. They have absolutely 0 qualities besides basic programming that makes them act like, well, NPCs in a video game.

Q: Why do you all look like anime characters?

A: Honestly I get tired of hearing this one when making(or attempting, more like) friends outside of the internet. I have no control over how anyone looks but myself. Besides those of us who actually ARE anime(or video games with an anime-styled art concept), we appear that way because my art style stemmed from an embarrassing weeb phase that never really faded. After a while, it just kinda became a thing here. So long story short; we look anime because I draw anime.

Also do not be fooled, majority of us are WAAAAAAAY older than we look. In fact, only seven of us are actual children.

Q: This all sounds pretty fake, how can you prove all of this is a real thing?

A: Trust me, I’ve thought the same thing several times throughout several years, but after a while I just accepted it because I got tired of being slapped in the face. You don’t have to believe we exist, but this is a very real disorder, my friend. There isn’t exactly a way to “prove” we exist to new people besides the information we can offer. When you’ve known us for long enough, you eventually come to accept it too. But in the end, is there even really a complaint? We can’t harm you aside from a rude comment here and there from the more “edgy” alters, and you could even potentially become friends with your favorite fictional character(if they happen to be one of our resident fictives). So really it’s your choice whether or not you want to get to know any of us.

Q: Can I draw you guys?

A: Sure! We have plenty of references of us attached to each person’s tag if you need them since I draw everyone almost all the time.