#i thought about making this an addendum in the form of a reblog to the original ask

[kenonade]

(tags by @violetfudge)

pov: you are theresa wiggin.

you’ve been stalking the beast for months. one fateful morning you finally see a chance to infiltrate his private quarters. you open the door to his bedroom and the last thing you see is a blur of color as a flood of collectible plush items overwhelm you. they smother you. as you lose consciousness you think, out of all the things to use as security, to be defeated by beanie babies…

[devilmademewriteit]

completely inspired by a gif set u reblogged. Javi helping you into a bullet proof/tactical vest. you’re scared and he just says a gentle “arms up” as he secures the velcro. he’s scared as well, doesn’t wanna lose you, doesn’t want you to get hurt. but it’s like the fear, the adrenaline, has your emotions haywire and you look into his eyes as he takes hold of your hand so gently and tells you that you’re gonna be okay, and you just want to kiss him, and he wants to kiss you too, but then it’s time to go, and he tells you “later”

IDK WHAT THIS IS LMFAO Javi brings the slut outta me

you’ve inspired me anon here is a TINY FIC/DRABBLE YEEEEEEEE

pairing: javier peña x fem!afab!reader

warnings: fem!afab!reader; use of pet name ‘sweetheart’; canon-typical allusions to violence; language; ANGSTY POO

omg I can’t believe there’s no smut. GUYS I WROTE SOMETHING WITHOUT SMUT. I loooove writing my javi tho so while im busting my ass working on Salvatore part 3 feel so free to leave me lil thingies like this.

-em<3

—

“Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but—”

It was never supposed to be like this.

It was just a summer job — something safe, boring, admin and agendas and addendums. Should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city.

She should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city. Shit. My chest feels like it’s on fire, burnin’ through kerosene.

Is she gonna clock how unsteady I am?

Javi’s footsteps echo down the nearby hallway; you recognize them immediately, and their slanted, hard-right-drag-left rhythm. He comes lumbering through the door, cradling tactical gear between his big, bulging biceps. God, you’d had… thoughts about those biceps.

Even now, with the embassy under cartel-siege, it’s oh-so-hard to push away the x-rated daydreams swirling inside your stress-addled mind.

And he doesn’t look scared.

Fuck, she looks so scared.

“Here,” he says, extending the protective vest towards you. Gingerly peeling your hips off of the desk at your back, you extend your fingers to greet and grab at the rough, thick canvas. The sheer weight of it makes your heart lurch into your throat. Neither one of you lowers your hands.

The dark-green-death-sweater you’d seen him wear so many times, cursing yourself for registering, for caring about what it meant.

That it meant Peña — schmoozing, cocky, effortlessly crude Javier Peña — was going into the field.

So neither of you let go.

The stupid vest had always served as a kind of divining rod, leading you both to the real source of your constant bickering, your irritation and the look of mutual, unabashed worry you had shared as a soldier came bursting into the office, panting in tune with the sirens, carrying news of the currently unfolding attack.

Caring without meaning to.

Giving a shit without wanting to.

“I-“ you swallow, trailing off, cursing the swelling bubble forming at neck-breaking speed inside your throat, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Of course she doesn’t. That one’s on me. ‘Thing like her should never have to wear one of these.

Shouldn’t even have to see one of these.

“S’okay,” he mutters, taking the burden of the gear into his hands, brow furrowing into a look of delicate responsibility. “Turn around.”

Under different circumstances, those words might’ve (embarrassingly enough) enticed a very different feeling from you.

Now, they were simply effective.

Acceding, you rotate, painfully slowly as every hair along your spine lifts, one after the other. Peña shuffles, adjusting both himself and the gear to stand close — too close — behind you.

“Arms up, sweetheart.”

You listen, dragging your arms up into the static air, trying to ignore the soft edge in his voice. It reminds you of something.

Something like resistance.

Stifled want.

Desire with a sock shoved down its bone-dry throat.

And it’s so level, so calm. How is he so calm?

Can she tell I’m totally freaking out?

Your shoulders sag under the weight of the vest. Jesus. It’s so much heavier than you’d imagined. Not quite as heavy as the feeling of doom settling over you, grief from the naive sense of safety you’d walked into work with.

Just this morning.

Javi busies himself with the Velcro, uncharacteristically silent. His knuckles brush the insides of your wrists, and you try to resist it — God, you really do — but all efforts to keep those prickling tears at bay are undertaken in vain.

You quiver slightly, face burning in shame.

Is she shaking?

Gentle, unusually gentle when his fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you around to face him once more.

“Look at me.”

You do. His shadowed eyes swim, dance, rage with experience, and you’re left envious, wishing that you’d hardened yourself to the world in the same way. How many times had this man woken up, driven to work, drunk his morning coffee and smoked his morning smoke, accepting that it could be his last?

Knowing Peña, he probably found ways not to think about it.

For sure, he didn’t think about it.

But you did.

Every time that vest came out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”

It’s an almost whisper, a mere brush of air against your brow. His own creases in earnestness as he utters the pledge.

“How can you do this for a living?”

You don’t mean for it to come out so rough and jagged, hissing for help like a neglected kettle on the stove. Javi offers you a smile of understanding as though remembering his own first time.

Then, before either of you can stop it, he places the flat of his palm to your cheek.

And you can’t keep from noticing how easily the calloused pad of his thumb molds to your complying skin.

“You get used to it,” he returns, and every word is coated, soaked in the sad, tragic truth. “Though this part’s always hard.”

Nothing exists beyond the smell of tobacco on his breath and the total absorption in his eyes. You’re sure the latter is mirrored in your own, too.

Timid, uneasy, begging him to ease the discomfort for you. “What part is this?”

The part where I lie to you. The part where I bubble-wrap the only thing in this country worth protecting into a shitty, almost useless accessory of war.

The part where I remember—

Is it the part where we remember how easily we could lose each other?

And we don’t even have each other, for God’s sake. Lookin’ up at me as if she can trust me, and the only thing I’ve been able to trust for years is that the moment will come, that moment where it all just gets to be too much and fuck—is this it? Maybe—

This is the part where we—

Kiss her, God, I just wanna fuckin’ kiss her—

Kiss?

“Peña! Time to move!”

Murphy’s voice slices — easily — through the tentative moment of uncertainty. It erodes the softness of Javi’s features into that familiar, hardened stone.

His hand drops from your face, but the tracings linger.

If you couldn’t trust the world outside, maybe you could trust Javi inside. Maybe he’d learned to live without something to lean on, but you weren’t yet prepared to go on—

She doesn’t know how much I fuckin’ need her. Or how many times I’ve tried to say it—and in so many ways—but every time I open my goddamn mouth it just comes out… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like it’s not true that I can finally fuckin’ breathe when she’s… just… existing around me. Like losing her wouldn’t mean goin’ on—

Faithlessly. Radically accepting the confusing, overwhelming uncertainty of the world.

He clears his throat.

“I’ll see you after.”

Your gaze tumbles down, averting the twinge of dishonesty in his own at his promise.

“Yeah—yeah, see you after.”

He backs away without turning. For a moment, you think he’s gearing up to say something. Something like he always says, like, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, or use your head or maybe even a smile, sweetheart.

But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, his dark hair tumbling around and exaggerating his hesitation. Although it hurts, you force yourself to watch as he walks away. How he bows his crown, brings a hand up to anxiously rub at the side of his jaw, the roundness of his shoulder responding and near-bulging under the blue cotton.

Admittedly, a kiss from Javier Peña would’ve been nice.

But to be cradled between those arms, wrapped up in him instead of the goddamn tactical gear squeezing, robbing the air from your lungs…

That would’ve been it.

When this is all over, you think to yourself.

And as Javi greets Steve, apologizing for the delay, the hand squeezing his gun feels strangely empty, haunted by the novelty of touching your burning skin.

When this is all over, he thinks to himself.

Anyways, isn’t that what faith is? Making plans for later, as if anyone’s ‘later’ is promised, a guarantee? As if either of you could count on tomorrow?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Joining the gaggle of scared, hopeless government employees, desperate for reassurance, for the realization blooming inside the depths of your knowing; you pause, letting it hit you, translating it into words…

“—I have it.”

—

[thebibliosphere]

Oh! Your voice is lovely. This whole real vs telephone voice has me confused. Like normally you speak with your accent, no? I mean with ETD, friends or around the house. I think my confusion comes from when do you use your "telephone" voice and why. Literally when speaking through the phone? All the time in USA? Only in professional settings? (If it's the last I find myself indignant why would your scottish accent be any less professional than a british one).

So when I was a kid, like really, really young, I got sent to elocution lessons. The aim of this was to help me have a more “neutral” accent, to increase my chances of getting a better job as an adult. This was something my parents felt was necessary based on their own experienced discrimination of being working class and Scottish while growing up in the 50s, 60s, and 70s. And tbh, it was still a thing when I was in school, and teachers would yell at us for “not speaking properly” whenever we spoke in Scots, instead of “pure” English. Which meant I wound up speaking what many people would consider to be Queen’s English at school, and Scots at home with my parents and friends. And even then my mother would tell me “don’t use slang”, because it was so ingrained in her from her childhood that her own language and dialect was a lesser form of communication than “Proper English”.

Basically, my parents didn’t want me to sound like them because of all the shit they had to deal with, so instead, I ended up with this carefully curated Scots/British accent that could be thinned out at will, depending on who I was talking to. It also turned me into a fairly good mimic, meaning I can pretty much pass for wherever I am currently living, and get by without anyone ever knowing I’m actually Scottish.

And I never really thought about it as being a problem until after I graduated university and got my career job with the publishing house, which was in England, and required me to do a lot of conference calls... and they started referring to me as “their civilized Scot”.

“You know we had our concerns about you, but you hardly sound Scottish at all!”

“You speak so clearly for someone from the North!”

“Oh, it’s a Scottish romance? Great we have someone who speaks Scots on the team, yea don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her.”

Etc, etc, etc.

Needless to say, that was infuriating, but I was also in my early 20s, desperate to keep my first career job, and didn’t know how to stand up for myself. After all, it had been ingrained in me from early childhood that my accent was something lower class and shameful. It made me sound uneducated and no one would want to hire me, which I am sad to say, this was not my only experience with this kind of discrimination. Which all things considered, is a minor thing in comparison to the wider scope of racism, bigotry, and xenophobia experienced by others. But it was still a thing I was very much aware of, and extremely resentful when prospective employers pulled out the whole, “you speak so clearly” line. Never happened in any of my service sector jobs, but anything to do with academia and editing? Yeah, some British git commending me on my grasp of the Queen’s language was pretty much guaranteed. Which is funny, because it’s now been deemed one of the best accents to use for telemarketing because people think of it as “friendly”. Wild how times change.

And then I moved to the US, and my daily exposure to Scots went from every day to virtually zilch, and I became even more aware of my accent making me a target for a different brand of weirdness. Namely the “oh is that Irish? I love Irish, I’m actually Irish on my mother’s side, I’m probably more Irish than you!”

“Oh, I love Braveheart! Have you seen Braveheart, do you have television back home?” (Cause y’know, Scotland is stuck in a mysterious time warp where everyone walks around with a kilt and a sword, dontcherknow.)

And so on so forth. Plus it gets pretty tiring being told all the time “say this word”, just so people can laugh at your accent and make a comment about how they don’t understand you. So I pretty much just started using my “telephone” voice all the time to avoid those encounters.

So getting to use my real voice for a piece of vocal work when most people want the carefully curated British voice? Iconic, stunning, amazing. Let me roll my rrrrrrr’s and let the West Coast wash over my vowels and drag them to the depths of the ocean floor like an unsuspecting traveler led astray by the guile of unseelie kelpies. Love it.

Addendum: if anyone reblogs this with, “see the Scots/Irish are persecuted too!” commentary to defend your own racism and bigotry, you’re going to get my foot up your arse. Fair warning.

[moddersayethstuff]

So I decided to write down my massive headcanons on how Inkling Biology works, such as what their body is composed of, how they can turn into smaller forms, how they can get “splatted” without actually dying (and can “respawn” via man-made devices), and how they can weaponize the Ink that their body creates. I might also reblog this later with details on how Sanitation works (and can be reversed), some genetic oddities certain Inklings have (such as claws or size differences), and other small tidbits.

The main things you need to understand: 1. Inklings is a term for a race of Humaniod Cephalopods, and subraces include primarily Squidlings, Octolings, and potentially others. 2. Magic exists in the form is reality-controlling energy that Human Mages used to be able to control. When Humanity died in the floods, this “Magic Energy” seeped into the oceans and caused many types of ocean life to evolve (because anyone who attended any kind of Biology class knows that creatures don’t evolve on their own and mutations are never beneficial). This Magic Energy can be controlled with focus (or a natural talent) but the average Inkling has only a small amount of control over it, which I’ll explain later.

With that out of the way, I’ll start with what the Inkling body is made of. To put it simply, Inklings are like onions (and ogres). They have Layers. To be more specific, two Layers, their inner Blood Layer, and their outer Ink Layer. The Blood Layer contains all their internal organs, such as their lungs, stomach, heart(s), brain, and formations of cartilage function similar to bones. They also have an Ink Sac that produces a weaker version of the Ink their Ink Layer is made up of. The Ink Layer covers the Blood Layer, and consists entirely of a special form of Ink that can form into a kind of skin on the outside, as well as their eyes. The only natural holes in the Ink Layer that allow access to the Blood Layer are in their mouths so they can eat, small slits in their ears so they can hear, their noses so they can breath, and in the… downstairs regions so they can… you know. Should their skin be cut, Ink will leak out, but it’s no-where near harmful to an Inkling’s health and will at most weaken them a bit. But should anything damage the border between their Ink and Blood Layers (say, someone stabbed them with a sword), most of the time it will be fatal. Recovery is possible, provided their internal organs aren’t too damaged, but they would be unable to change into their Squid Form or it’s a painful, permanent death. In fact, damage to the Blood Layer is the only real way to permanently kill an Inkling, provided they keep their Blood Layer safe they can survive for a long time, until they naturally die at around age 100-110.

Inklings posses an uncanny connection to the Magic Energy that triggered the Oceanic Evolution, which allows them to use their Ink in ways other creatures could never dream. All Inklings are born with a certain Ink Colour, which they can change with a bit of concentration. It’s very difficult to precisely change to a colour someone else is using, but this difficulty can be removed by making physical contact (ex. Placing a hand on someone’s arm), and changing colour this way allows for perfect replication of someone else’s Ink. Mimicking someone else’s Ink Colour has several benefits, such as being able to swim in someone else’s Ink. As an Inkling reaches age 13-15, they begin to attune to the Magic Energy inside of their Ink, and can activate a powerful ability (which, by Mage Standards, is technically a Spell, but no one really cares about that fact). This ability displaces their Blood Layer, storing it in a sort of Pocket Dimension, while their Ink Layer morphs to a smaller cephalopod form, known commonly as a Squid Form or Octo Form, or the umbrella term Ink Form. This allows them to protect their Blood Layer from any damage, including falling from a great height or getting cut. They can also easily slip through grates and nets, being essentially liquid held together via Magic Energy. Because their eyes are a part of their Ink Layer, they can still see, but can’t smell. They can also hear, but the sound is very muffled. Their brain, stored in the Pocket Dimension, telepathically exists within the confines of the Ink Form, allowing it to control the body (telepathy is canon in Splatoon, see Judd who is canonically a Telepath/Psychic). The Ink Form can submerge itself in Ink, and it can sense what is outside of it, as well as move through it quickly. It can also absorb Ink into the Ink Layer, which is then deposited in an Ink Tank (or similar Ink Storage methods such as Inkweave) upon returning to their normal Humanoid Form. Originally, ancient Inklings were unable to take their clothing and equipment with them when they activated their Ink Form, but some studied and trained and perfected the art of storing their external gear in the Pocket Dimension when they switched, and gradually this technique became part of the Spell the Inklings naturally use (most of the time, but the few who don’t naturally have this ability can gain it the same way the ancients did). Also, Inklings in Ink Form are unable to hold things in their tentacles without wrapping their tentacles around the object they want to hold (and they aren’t very strong either).

When Ink of another colour makes contact with an Inkling’s Ink Layer, they feel uncomfortable and may be physically slowed, and too much foreign Ink causes their Ink Layer to detonate, but (due to more ancient practices that have been ingrained in the modern populace) their Ink Layer and gear are displaced, similar to if they turned to Ink Form. This displaced body, with no Ink Layer tied to it, is trapped in limbo until their Ink Sac can generate enough Ink to rebuild their Ink Layer, a process that can take anywhere from a day to almost half a week, whereupon they respawn the same place they were splatted. However, scientific research created devices that pulled in the displaced Inklings and accelerated the process, allowing them to respawn almost immediately. Inklings possess a special organ in their Blood Layer known as an Ink Sac, which creates Ink the same colour as their Ink Colour, and this Ink is pumped into their Ink Layer, but the special Ink that the Ink Layer consists of and the Ink the Ink Sac produces is slightly different. Regular Ink can be drawn out of an Ink Layer and can be stored externally via an Ink Tank/other method of Ink Storage (see above), or ejected forcefully via an Inklings mouth. This Ink Spit is how the ancient Inklings originally weaponize do their Ink, before tools that could shoot their Ink for them were created. Weapons contain siphons in their handles, similar to Ink Tanks, and draw out regular Ink stored in the Ink Layer for use. Often, Inklings will draw Ink out from their tanks as it gets siphoned into their Weapons, a trick that takes a bit of time to learn but eventually becomes almost second-nature for competitive Inklings. Ink sticks to most surfaces, except for some materials including certain types of metal, fabric, and plastic, as well as all liquids.

Other notes:

Inklings have tentacles comprised entirely of their Ink in their Humanoid Form that functions similar to hair, and it can change shape at the Inkling’s will, but most of the time these tentacles serve no functional purpose. Some Inklings have more dexterity with their tentacles than others, with the average Octoling having more control with their thicker and fewer tentacles than Squidlings. However, on the rare occasion that an Inkling loses a limb (usually if it gets severed but their main body is fine, they will heal over the wound and their Ink Layer will cover it up, a process that can take a few weeks) they will have a greater dexterity with their tentacles, a phenomenon that medical scientists are still trying to fully understand.

Certain chemicals have an effect on an Inkling’s Ink Layer that is similar to the effect of foreign Ink, and should any of these chemicals be mixed into bodies of water, any Inkling that submerges in this water will have their Ink Layer detonate, resulting in the same effect as being splatted. Submerging in bodies of water that don’t have those chemicals or getting rained on/having a shower is perfectly safe, and Inklings, being sea creatures, are also very comfortable being wet. Most Turf War arenas have these chemicals in the water as a hazard during competitive matches, but they dissolve quickly leaving the water safe again. Often, more casual Turf War matches between friends omit these chemicals, as pushing one of your friends into water is very, very funny.

Regular Ink, when applied to a surface, stays for about 5-7 minutes, before natural microbes in the air cause the Ink to evaporate. The special Ink that makes up an Inkling’s Ink Layer is unaffected.

And that’s pretty much it! I’ve got a lot of other headcanons and thoughts on this topic but I’ll save those for later. I’ll prolly reblog this post with addendums if I do so. Also note that I use all this for my Splatoon fanfic Inkopolis Rising, as well as several other Splatoon AUs and stories.

[selenuntius]

Zhang Longevity - Southern Archives

Hello I know I just wrote about this at length but like I acknowledged in that post, I hadn’t read Southern Archives. Well now I have, and I’ll make a couple of additions/speculations based on the information in that. Don’t read if you haven’t read Southern Archives. Some of this information is related to plot points.

The main takeaway from Southern Archives that’s truly unambiguous is that there is a way to destroy the Zhang longevity (quite violently it appears).

Two other ones that have ambiguity to them are related to qilin blood. It’s a bit hard to just give a conclusion so I won’t be giving one here. My take beneath the break, or just read the novel.

Again, I’m trying to make clear what’s speculation and what’s actually in there, but I think even just by pointing out ambiguity, I’m making an argument. Just read the goddamn novel, really, especially to draw your own conclusions about the qilin blood things.

There are some other takeaways from Southern Archives about Zhang clan lore but I thought I should make a followup of sorts to my previous post with new info. Also Southern Archives was a pretty good read. I enjoyed the third-person POV and the period atmosphere. Zhang Haiyan, Haixia and others are some very engaging characters. I feel I may be a little attracted to Zhang Haiqi but I also want to call her mommy, so you can say I’m in a bit of a Haiyan predicament.

Zhang longevity can be destroyed

Probably one of our biggest takeaways from Southern Archives. This was achieved here via some kind of gas. The people who became aware of this in Southern Archives are Zhang Qishan (and some of his clan?), Zhang Haiqi, Zhang Hailou, Mo Yungao.

This may give support for the Zhang Qishan died because he found a way to age normally theory.

Zhang longevity is in their “blood” (not said to be the same blood as qilin blood; might just be blood as in they’re born with it)

This one is more ambiguous. The quote I’m drawing this from is in c.55:

“That German nerve gas was not produced in Germany, and its origins are unclear. It seemed to be able to destroy the mechanisms within Zhang people’s blood. Mo Yungao mentioned in his records that he found this by chance, and only possessed a single cylinder of it.”

If you’re checking your sources and see that this translation and merebear’s edited MTL is different and want to know why, I will leave a note at the end about this.

Anyways, like I said, I feel like immediately saying that this blood refers to qilin blood is a bit of a leap. I, for one, mostly read it as like a Zhang inherited trait rather than qilin blood. I went into a bit of why I felt the qilin blood is directly linked to their longevity theory wasn’t the best in my previous post, and I did see a reblog also theorising about that but I was too tired to finish writing my response (and I didn’t want to seem like I’m trying to start shit; I really just have too much time on my hands).

If qilin blood is directly linked to longevity, then everyone who has lived for longer than usual has to have a bit of qilin blood. That would mean there’s some kind of threshold for recognising qilin blood, and below that threshold it counts for longevity, but isn’t strong enough to detect.

To confirm the theory, we need some kind of confirmation that an in-between state between full-on qilin blood and non-qilin blood exists. The blood has different degrees of strength - this is true. Wu Xie speculates that the Qiling is chosen by who has the strongest qilin blood (book 8 c.81; N.B. that in Shahai 3 a different reason for selecting our Qiling was hypothesised), and Zhang Haike talks about hearing rumours as a child that our Zhang Qiling had the strongest form of their kekkei genkai blood (ZHH 2 c.7).

However, I still think there’s a distinction between the ones who do and the ones who just don’t, and it’s not all about how strong the blood is. Going back to the Qipan Zhang sect, they wielded quite a lot of power within the clan because they “held the qilin”, which Wu Xie guesses to mean the qilin blood (book 8 c.50 p1). Don’t know if that meant only Qipan Zhang had qilin blood, or if there was just a higher occurrence and a greater strength (I’ve read a headcanon that it’s because the Qipan Zhang absorb anyone who has the blood). Also, Wu Xie says in the 2017 short of Zhang Hailou, “You’re from the branch family… like me, you have to worry about mosquitoes.” Wu Xie, by this point, is quite knowledgable about the Zhang clan so what he says is kinda? reliable. In fact, all three of the Zhang that have qilin blood are from the main family or descended from a sect of the main family (Haiqi is one of the few Hai-generation main family members, southern archives c.47; Qiling was part of the main family according to Haike; Foye is a descendant of Ruitong of Qipan Zhang and Wu Xie speculates at the end of book 8 that Foye’s father brought their entire sect out of the Northeast Zhang’s control, which makes Rishan a descendant of Qipan Zhang too). So is it only the main family that ever has proper qilin blood? If it’s a thing all Zhang have to a degree, surely sometimes it pops up in the branches too.

This is pretty much a joke but I was going to say that maybe bare min qilin blood only protects you from mosquitoes and nothing else but still counts for longevity, and I can’t even make that joke anymore…

The problem here is at what point do we stop saying the longevity has to do with qilin blood and just say the longevity runs in the family, and for some reason, Foye didn’t get it (or died for other reasons). And even if we take a step back and say, yes, longevity does come with the Zhang blood but qilin blood makes you live even longer, not enough time has passed for us to say that.

An addendum about qilin blood, not directly related to longevity: Can qilin blood be an acquired trait?

Mo Yungao believes qilin blood to be an acquired trait, because he asked Zhang Qiling about it and he said it was acquired (Archives c.55).

This is contradicted in other places, for example, by Zhang Haike in ZHH 2 c.7, where he specifically talks about qilin blood as an inherited trait. The two previously mentioned passages about Qipan Zhang and from Wu Xie duking it out with Xiao Zhang Ge also support this, though less directly.

So, why did Zhang Qiling tell Mo Yungao it’s acquired?

There are a couple of possibilities, including Zhang Qiling lying and this actually being true and everyone else being wrong, but I think this was a misunderstanding.

Mainly because I don’t think the line is entirely without ambiguity.

He had asked this strange person if he had been born with his extraordinary abilities or if they were acquired, and the person had replied that they were acquired.

(I have another note about this line but it doesn’t matter for the ambiguity bit, so I’ll leave it at the bottom too.)

The key here is that Mo Yungao, in this omniscient narrator recollection, did not specifically ask about his blood. Mo Yungao clearly meant his blood, because a couple of lines above, Mo Yungao is saved by this person and his blood, and his later obsession is with this blood. But what he actually asked was his extraordinary abilities (plural) so maybe Zhang Qiling took it to mean combat ability rather than specifically his blood?

Again, there are other possibilities, but I prefer a simpler answer rather than a complicated one that takes more speculation to support.

Nerve gas line note:

The original contained the phrase 张家人血液中的肌理, literally “the skin texture of Zhang people’s blood”. This is because 肌理 (skin texture) was likely a typo of 机理 (which I translate as mechanisms here; not necessarily the best one. Could also use principles but I felt that sounded less physiological and more philosophical). These two words have the exact same pronunciation. XL makes these mistakes quite a lot, and because most of our stuff is sourced from his serialisation and web versions, these mistakes don’t get corrected. I suspect this is why merebear uses the vague sentence “but it seemed to specifically target the Zhang’s family blood” instead. It’s not a huge difference, but I thought I should explain my addition of mechanisms and using destroy instead of target (this I don’t quite understand, the original says destroy and I don’t see an issue with simply using destroy) so it doesn’t seem like I’m making stuff up.

Acquired abilities line note:

“Extraordinary abilities” is actually my guess of what XL means when he wrote 无常的能力, because I feel the adjective used is a misuse of the word. 无常 can mean changeable, can be a reference to a Buddhist concept of the cycle of life and death (don’t have the best grasp on this, but bear with me), can be a euphemism for death, or can be a kind of ghost? spirit? that collects people’s souls, kind of like the Grim Reaper I guess but they work for the king of hell. None of these quite fit here. The two characters, taken on their own can maybe mean something like extraordinary, so I’m thinking maybe that’s what XL’s trying to get at but used a slightly different word to replace what you might usually use for extraordinary (不凡 or smth idk), but not to great effect.

[incarnateirony]

The start of a gallery regarding Belphegor and the guys, but including a great deal of meta and extra gifs behind the cut, including relevance explicitly to Dean and Castiel, as well as Belphegor’s mythological relevance.

Edit: Since this post is making the rounds I’ma drop in my Belphegor meta-fanvid too. The meta/extra gifs are below the vid. 

Yeah I know I’m a day late, no I don’t know if anyone has beaten me to this, I know some people beat me to talking about belphegor beyond me vagueblog screaming about him showing up on twitter with livetweets. For those who haven’t seen:

Belphegor - a Moabite god absorbed into Hebrew lore and then Christianity as a major DEMON. The name Belphegor means “lord of opening” or “lord Baal of Mt. Phegor.” As a Moabite deity, he was known as Baal-Peor and ruled over fertility and sexual power. He was worshipped in the form of a phallus. -- that giant rock he talked about worshipping, there you go.

In the KABBALAH, Belphegor was an angel in the order of principalities prior to his fall. He is one of the Togarini, “the wranglers.” He is an archdemon who is part of the demonic counterparts to the angels who rule the 10 sephirot of the Tree of Life; he rules over the sixth sephirah. He sits on a pierced chair, for excrement is his sacrificial offering. In Christian demonology, Belphegor is the incarnation of one of the SEVEN DEADLY SINS, sloth, characterized by negligence and apathy. According to St. Thomas Aquinas, all sins that arise from ignorance are caused by sloth. 

Belphegor also rules misogyny and licentious men. He emerged from HELL to investigate the marital state among humans. For a time, he lived as a man to experience sexual pleasures. Appalled, he fled back to hell, happy that intercourse between men and women did not exist there.-- here’s the big block that I find fascinating.

Gully, Rosemary. 2009. The Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology. New York: Visionary Living, Inc., pp. 27-28.

(For more discussion of Belphegor’s history and mythology on this blog, click this link (x) but I’m mostly narrowing it down to what’s relevant for address here.)

With that out of the way, I refer you to the gallery above, which is only a fraction of what I’ve clipped from the episode.

(Edit: As new things have come to light with a rewatch, or as new thoughts come up, I’ve been reblogging this post with additions; however, at the end of the post, I’m going to make headline titles for update thresholds and include it in here as a sort of Belphegor introduction masterpost. Any time I get to glance at part of this episode again it just gets LOUDER.)

The camera work is uncanny. Castiel and Dean are repeatedly cast not only as a unit, or Sam blotted off, or divided, but of a point of focus. A few more examples:

Oh wow Belphegor really just staring at them.

Think I’m just choosing frames I like? Check back at the scene. Whenever Sam engages it’s literally from a different, peripheral shot as so:

This filming style isn’t single shots, but the entire scene. Oh, I don’t mean the entire scene, I mean the entire episode. The only place this rule wavers is when literally everybody is packed in the Impala, including when they save the mother and child, and until people decompress it’s impossible to do such controlled shots.

But then there IS when they decompress as I put in the original gallery.

Belphegor sits witness to the pain and upset over Cas, unable to look at him. And, shortly after talking about the giant penis he used to worship and flirting with Dean, asks who the child was to them after Cas has stormed out, finding out about it being their son.

At this point both Castiel and Dean have had their standoffs with Belphegor, which I side by sided in the top gallery. But Dean’s integration with Belphegor goes an entirely extra level.

We’ll handwave any deep readings about the heart of a man being needed -- but the simple fact is, as we know, this is when Dean and Belphegor encounter the white woman.

That alone is a fascinating point;

Whether you take Sam’s encounter as his serial killer fetish, or his clown phobia, or some people’s read of toxic parenting, or a combination of these -- the first two more likely to tickle the general audience -- this is clear.

Whether you take Cas’ encounter with Bloody Mary as the secret about Jack and guilt over Mary, or the secret over the Empty and general guilt over failing Jack, his connection is loudly clear.

The woman in white was a spouse betrayed by her partner and driven to madness where she killed her children and then herself -- something fairly clear if we remember the metaphorical ledge Dean was on at the end of the season that he steered away from, but the argument continues.

Blahblah *heterosexual handwave* just subtext just interpretation only the other two matter for Reasons(TM), we know how that will go. This, or the random divorce drop from the victim girls for totally inoccuous and random reasons aside, is just a worthwhile note to put in here as we consider the framing of Belphegor.

Throughout the episode, Sam has no identifiable major exchange with Belphegor. He happens to be in the vicinity, occasionally mediating Dean and Cas, or in the same car, but there is no forward led conversation, there is no personal tension or banter, and most of all there isn’t even any attempt at directorial focus. If anything, directorial blotting. Sam’s plot shines more in being a forward moving, smart hunter mediating the two here, but if we’re here to look at Belphegor--

As Castiel sadly watches the rescued mother and child go to the school, in the wake of the death of his son, Dean only tersely checks on him. It’s strained, and Castiel is left staggered, only for us yet again to find Belphegor framed into the conversation, observing, as he has through the previous shots.

Belphegor’s placement is right between Dean and Cas, leaving it almost inevitable that as we move forward, he will annex emotional territory if by trust or nuisance to dig a deeper wound and antagonize the marriage he observes dissolving in front of him, a very personal and living manifestation of their struggles for these two to overcome, and inevitably part of what will send Castiel away briefly in 15.3 as he feels himself growing more and more detached from the Winchesters -- particularly Dean, as Sam is actively still engaging with him as is typical of them but like Entertainment Weekly recently put it, Castiel does has his favorite Winchester, and they’re totally-not-going-through-divorce-waves here, just totally heterosexual brovorce, of course. 

Given considering my position of the overt and present canonicity of their relationship please note I’m only writing sarcastically towards the inevitable stupidity that haunts this fandom via anti dialogue and those that internalize it, but here it is, folks.  

If anyone wants to even try to challenge me, I invite them to find Sam drawing belphegor’s focus on any front or being framed in the shots as Castiel and Dean are here. Belphegor is ... going to be a ride, folks. Buckle up. He’s literally been observing the hunter husbands, wracked with pain over the loss of their child, in active conflict despite their lingering stance as a unit, having held his ground with both of them to feel out their pain and rage each to themselves, and left to sit, and watch, and find what dark humor he may watch from them. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

(Suggested reading: check out @tinkdw​‘s post about them dividing Cas from his humanity *ba dum chink* and focusing on his angelicness this episode) 

----

UPDATE 1

A belated addendum a few hours late I forgot to include but intended to: It has not escaped me that Dean and Cas also were both part of Belphegor’s spell casting. The aforementioned heart of a man with the trivial second ingredient of salt (truly not trivial at all in the alchemical scale of it, but that’s a topic for another time--just in SPNverse it seems weirdly easy; breaking down the alchemy in the last few seasons and the use of the salt in spell is its own essay), and the other common graveyard dirt and very conveniently angel blood. These things both created intensely powerful deus ex machinas that fall back to other points I made in the OP that are incredibly suspicious about the arrangement, and I’m more curious on if we should expect multiple parts of a spell eg reverse trials if you will or what. 

I don’t consider these things a lack in SPN spellcasting integrity in writing. I consider these warnings.

UPDATE 2

Along with updates in the original post, someone posted this clip on twitter giggling about Dean’s expression, and something else I somehow missed the first time caught my eye.

Every time Belphegor opts to observe people or turn, while he comments on beauty and appearance (or stone penises or Dean being gorgeous), beyond his individual compliment of Dean – he is turning his head at couples. Or, well, we assume couples. At Units Of Two People. The two people units are:

A woman and a woman A man and a woman A man and a man.

Outside of the vehicle Belphegor is not taking any particular time paying attention to individuals. Only duos. The two women pass in front of the hearts, and one (the woman in khaki) even gestures at it to sort of make the woman in green look.

The man and the women walk by, vaguely locking arms. 

Belphegor looks straight between these units. He leans forward, discussing people on earth being attractive. He turns and looks out the window to observe the two men now walking past the window with hearts.

Drops the comment about worshipping a giant penis, and so forth.

But the direct observation of duos, potentially queer ones literally framed in hearts in case anybody misses it for not being hetnorm, is… well, in lieu of the OP, this is. Yeah. It’s a whole thing. Holy crap.

UPDATE 3

This one isn’t necessarily big enough for a central update, and isn’t even entirely Belphegor focused as Belphegor adjacent. A friend ( @tarend ) had asked passively why bikes were so prominently featured in this episode, so here’s what I’ve found.

The green and blue bikes feature predominantly in the clown victim house from the first scene we see the garage, fairly early in the episode and every other showing until they’re extracted from the house. Often central, doorway, access, or backshadow in most shots. Trying to pin it on a single character would be ignoring the broadness of it, but the presence was enough to take note of.

Various two people units roll around with bikes of different and more muted colors.

The two dudes, one of them has a green bike and one has a grocery sack which I imagine ISN’T fruit from the tree of life.

I do find it weird and, especially since the green and blue bike collectively manage to get several shared minutes of screen time in a busy episode, I have to wonder, but I can’t find anything meaningful here without jumping to the common “green and blue” thing and a random joke-reach towards Queen which isn’t really my flavor of meta despite it even kind of matching the people passing by. The overlap is there and tangible, regardless, and passes in the background of Belphegor, so I’ll leave that here as a general sentiment. 

Compared to the above gold mine of far more overt material, if this ever was intended to be an intentional nod of some sort, I feel like it’s been overshadowed entirely by the other content which might as well have been blasted from a bull horn, but maybe someone else can find use in it in association. Aside from the street highlights in the car while Dean sits by with Belphegor, the prominent double bike placement is best witnessed rather than screenshot into eternity in any scene involving Clown House Garage.

Though I may point out the dynamic impala shot with the paired bikes in the background is immediately followed by a stroller that colllectively haunt the three people in the car, but whether I’d swear to that being intentionally syncretic, I’m unsure. But I do feel it’s worth notating.

I’m sure you all know I’m guarded about things like this fandom’s build on key colors and don’t apply it in meta outside of standard lighting theory, and generally even props are things I ignore unless they’re actual framing and blocking focuses, but the bikes do ride a line. They just lack the overall thematic story use most things I talk about do, like mystic symbols and the ilk. I would probably completely disregard this were it not for the other elements above, but now I’ll be keeping an eye on it.

UPDATE 4

Yet another thought more from @tarend than me, but his ass just about never posts so I might as well plug it into the viral post with some credit.

There seems to be painstaking effort to frame Belphegor with stop signs.

Cough

Crack aside it’s just some angle play that could be coincidence but I’m going to be throwing that out there for meta fodder for others while this spreads around until I can truly rewatch since life is seriously climbing me right now.

Tarend also points out the school was named after The Great Dissenter (Link).

I’m going to have a bit of a comparative study on Belphegor’s and Chuck’s mannerisms for consideration but life didn’t even give me 30 minutes for a video edit today much less a rewatch.

[dracoqueen22]

[TF] Common Ground

Universe: Transformers Characters: Megatron/Optimus Prime Rated: T Description: There are days that matter, and days that don’t. Then there are days when nothing else matters, and a stolen moment in time might make all the difference.

“You called?” “You answered.” Optimus Prime couldn’t decide if the statement was incredulous or approving. It was so hard to tell with Megatron nowadays because he hid everything behind bravado and presentation. The genuine Megatronus he’d fallen in love with was buried so deep, Optimus – and Orion by proxy – despaired to find him again. “I did,” Optimus said. He stepped further into the open glade, loose leaves crunching beneath his feet, massive trees towering over them. Redwoods, he’d heard they were called. The oldest and largest trees on Earth. “If this is a trap--” Megatron held up a hand. “It’s not.” He looked to his left and right and even above him as if to demonstrate. “Feel free to scan. I’ll wait.” Optimus narrowed his optics.

Megatron’s behavior was strange. Reserved, Optimus would place it. He was fully armored, polished, still carrying all of his usual weaponry, but his plating was not clamped, and while Optimus couldn’t sense Megatron’s field, his demeanor suggested passivity. Megatron was not a passive beast. Optimus flashed a quick-scan through their surroundings, two kilometers in all directions. It pinged back nothing Cybertronian in origin, save Megatron and himself. ‘Well?’ Ratchet asked, over comms. Optimus, still watching Megatron, lifted a hand to answer. ‘All is well for now, Ratchet,’ he replied, both aloud and over the comms for Megatron’s benefit. ‘If I don’t ping in five minute intervals, send the cavalry.’ ‘I don’t like this,’ Ratchet muttered. ‘It reeks of Soundwave. Something this subtle could only be his doing.’ ‘He might be genuine,’ Optimus said (hoped), subvocal this time, his spark threatening to do a strange whirling-dance, deep in the most buried Orion-parts of him. ‘Only if he wants something, which he always does,’ Ratchet grumbled. He’d been the one most against this meeting, even more so than Prowl and Red Alert. Ratchet had been there to pick up the pieces Megatronus left behind. ‘Watch yourself, Optimus. He wants you to be Orion.’ A flash of grief settled hard and fast on Optimus’ shoulders, rooting him to the ground. ‘Yes, I know.’ His tone came through more grave than he intended, but it was unvarnished truth. ‘I will ping you shortly. Optimus, out.’ He closed the comm before Ratchet could further protest. There were many things his oldest and dearest friend could not understand, and the tangled webs between Megatronus and Orion Pax along with Megatron and Optimus Prime, were one of them. Ratchet did not understand how Optimus couldn’t let the past lie. He couldn’t fathom the weight of it, sitting like an anchor at the back of Optimus’ every waking moment. “All right.” Optimus dared to move closer, until he could hear the click and whirr of Megatron’s frame, catch the whiff of his polish on a passing breeze. “I’m here. I’m alone. What do you want?” “So defensive.” Megatron chuckled, raspy and light, his lip curving ever so slightly to reveal the tips of his pointed denta. “We used to be more to each other, Optimus.” Optimus’ shoulders squared. His blasters clicked, desperate to transform into view, and he pushed the defensive protocols down. “I’m not Orion Pax.” A flicker of something danced in crimson optics. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Megatron tipped his head, gaze striking over Optimus from top to bottom. “If you were, you wouldn’t have asked me why I called you here. Especially today of all days.” Today. There was something about the date. It took a moment, even for Optimus’ Matrix-enhanced processing, to translate Earth-time into a Cybertronian date. The year, he knew, was irrelevant. The stardate, however, was important. That traitorous corner of his spark pulsed warmth again, whispering an aching promise. “The day we met,” he murmured. Megatron tilted his head. “You do remember. I had to remind you, but Orion’s still in there somewhere.” He touched his chestplate, taloned fingers tracing over the Decepticon badge. “Megatronus is in here, too. Sometimes, he’s louder than he should be.” Optimus’ hands formed fists at his side, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to strike Megatron, or because a part of him wanted to reel his one-time lover in. “That doesn’t answer my question. What do you want?” Megatron paused, his gaze turning distant. There was a rasping ventilation – invent, exvent – as if he was gathering courage or steeling himself. “What if--” He cut off, growled, though it didn’t seem to be directed at Optimus. More it was aimed at himself. “We’re going to die,” Megatron said at length. “One of us is going to die. We are going to kill each other at some point. It’s inevitable.” “It doesn’t have to be,” Optimus said. Megatron barked a laugh, and it was a broken, haunted sound. His gaze slid back toward Optimus, fire dancing in his optics. “Yes, it does. There’s no fixing this. It’s too broken.” “Then why ask me here?” Optimus demanded, his engine roaring, fans sputtering. That which was Orion beat against a transteel pane, begging to be heard. Megatron cycled a loud ventilation. He took a step closer, nearly within arms length. He lifted a hand, palm upward, holding it toward Optimus. “One last time?” he asked. “Before we die?” Optimus staggered internally, though his feet held solid ground. Somewhere, a bird whistled, while the wind sang through the pine needles. Far in the distance, cars rumbled by on a highway, but here, they were isolated. He remembered to ping Ratchet. “You don’t know what you’re asking me,” Optimus said, his tone low, a wash of longing surging through his circuits, sending a hairline crack through the wall deafening Orion Pax. Megatron looked at his fingers, contemplating. “Don’t I?” His lip curled toward a smirk again, a shade of the triumphant gladiator who strutted onto every battlefield and challenged anyone to try to defeat him. “You think you hold the monopoly on regret and aching sparks?” Optimus folded his arms, clenching his hands behind them. “What brought this on?” “Does it matter?” “It does to me!” Megatron sighed. He lowered his hand and ran his fingers over the cannon across his other arm instead. “Because this is a day that mattered to me,” he said, and it sounded like it hurt him to admit the truth, as if the words had been torn from deep in his tanks. “And maybe it mattered to you, too.” “Optimus Prime doesn’t care,” Optimus said, which was an oversimplification and vastly untrue, because even as he spoke it, the splintering in the wall spread a little further. “He only wants one thing from you, Megatron.” For a moment, he swore Megatron flinched, but then the genuine emotion in Megatron’s face hardened to stone. “Yes, I’m aware of what the Senate’s fool wants of me.” He straightened, arms falling to his sides, armor fluttering around his protoform as if undecided to clamp or remain loose and unburdened. “And what he stole.” Optimus worked his intake. “Optimus Prime doesn’t care what the date is,” he repeated, and took a risk, gave in to the pleading optics of a mech who used to believe in so many things. “But Orion Pax does, and maybe, for a day, he can be the one with the reins.” Megatron’s optics narrowed. “If this is some trick...” “I trusted this wasn’t a trap, the least you can grant me is the courtesy to trust this.” Optimus moved a step closer, into the nearest edge of Megatron’s field, where it could no longer be hidden. He buried a shiver as the pseudo-intimate contact sent a rush of heat over his sensory net. “Right now, we’re at a truce. I am not Optimus, and you are not Megatron. We are not the respective leaders of two factions at war.” Megatron’s ventilations hitched. His optics seemed to focus on Optimus’ badge. “Then what are we?” “Two Cybertronians who stumbled on each other and managed to find common ground,” Optimus answered, letting the hope bubble up inside of him, though he wouldn’t let it take root. He couldn’t afford it anymore. “At least, for a little while.” Time. Reminder. He pinged Ratchet again and added an addendum this time, so Ratchet wouldn’t be looking for the next ping, and would leave Optimus in peace. He would give his trust this time, in the hopes Megatron would return it, and maybe, just maybe, their ending wouldn’t be mutual destruction. “Common ground?” Megatron repeated, and he chuckled, dark and seductive, far from mocking and definitely interested. He stepped into Optimus’ space, his field sliding hot and heavy along Optimus’ own. “What does that get me?” “An hour.” He would have offered more, if he thought it wouldn’t make Ratchet blow a gasket. Or that he’d be strong enough to walk away. Megatron rumbled again, and the familiar sound sent a twang through the most buried part of Optimus. “It’s enough.” He reached toward Optimus, hesitated, then finished the motion by cupping Optimus’ face, taloned thumb sweeping over a cheek. Optimus did not shudder, but it was a near thing. So much of their recent interactions had been anger and violence, had been energon and torn lines and ravaged plating, and fury and destruction. He’d forgotten Megatron could be gentle. “Yes.” Optimus leaned into the touch. “For now, it’s enough.”

*

a/n: Yes, you are absolutely welcome to reblog this, rec this, shout happily in the tags, etc, etc. I love feedback! :)

[sunnynoki]

Goodbye to Halos - How Fenic (The Main Protagonist) is Fenic (The Lost Princess)

Ok y’all buckle up because it’s about to be a wild ride.

FIRST OFF: READ GOODBYE TO HALOS. It has incredibly good writing and art and characterization!!! Fenic, the main protag, is a trans lesbian!! The other protags include (but are not limited to) a genderqueer gay lion and a poly wlw! I’ll post a link in the notes so this post shows up in tags, but a search of “Goodbye to Halos” will get you there in the first link!

Also cred to @demi-virgo​ for encouraging me to make this ;w;

Ok so I don’t know how to format this so let’s just start from the first hint and go from there.

And one more important note: Current Fenic will be referred to as just Fenic, and her mom will be referred to as The Lost Princess.

HINT ONE: THE MAAVE

So maave’s are, as a refresher, the mark under a Shade’s eye. They are a unifying trait of the shades (Along with horns and magic, but less so as they aren’t retained in children of Shades and Wildren, but I digress). But there are also "no two alike in form and color”, as Enae put it.

Which is WEIRD because 

Yeah. Impossible. UNLESS... THE LOST PRINCESS AND FENIC ARE THE SAME PERSON! And not in an amnesia kinda way, but in a restarting life kinda way. But we’ll get to that. 

Addendum: 

The wording of “you are very, very closely related to The Lost Princess” is weird when Enae already knows that Fenic is the lost princess’s daughter. Also the rest of this page speaks for itself I think. “Lost princess was immortal”, “There’s no other Fenics” (especially Fenics with that maave and other traits like red hair). This establishes that Fenic and the Lost Princess look similar, if not alike/identical. This will be essential in hint three.

Continued under the cut because I got a loooooottttt more ;3

HINT TWO: GOD’S BLESSING

So as the fight continues, God Herself literally steps in. Well, an avatar of Her’s, later named a Godeye.

God intercepted the knife from hitting Fenic. I won’t post the entire scene here, but basically God shoots the knife at Enae, wounding her BAD. But as God goes to send another attack, Fenic comes in and stands between the two. And then She freaks out????

Now maybe God isn’t a god, but God is just Her name? Also interesting is how She is the only one to use lower case, and only when She says “I”. But that’s another post, as I digress...

God Herself is asking forgiveness from Fenic? After Fenic asked (with her actions” for God not to attack Enae? Enae later talks about this in the following chapter:

“And that girl... blessed by God, she’s the only other one who can sway Her heart. Fenic...”

And who else was blessed by God? The Lost Princess. Before this, Fenic has had no reason to be blessed by god besides being related to the (immortal, may i remind you) lost princess who "died” before Fenic can remember. 

(Also another digression... the only other one? Who is the one Fenic is the “other one” off of? Maybe The Dead Princess? Maybe the old empress? Both are dead, but it’s phrased that she’s one of two, and coming off this theory, perhaps she and The Dead Princess pair up to be the two that can sway God’s heart.)

HINT THREE: ASHER AND TAHMONAI

So their meeting has a ton of different sentences that lead towards this theory, so I’m just going to group them all here. (Note: Enae is narrating and Asher and Tahmonai are talking about The Lost Princess. Tahmonai morphed to The Lost Princess to ask if Asher has seen her.)

“The person you’re looking for... she doesn’t exist anymore” and “That, too was-- somehow -- not true” and “[The Lost Princess] is really immortal too”... these statements don’t have a lot of intersections in the venn diagram of where they can all be true. The only fact that I can think of that does make them true is that Fenic is the rebirth of The Lost Princess. Continuing onto the next page...

There’s a lot to break down here:

“She... was a dear friend of mine.” Meaning The Lost Princess was a friend, not a romantic interest with whom he would have a child with.

“Someone I was lucky enough to know all my life, even if she only knew me for a fraction of her’s.” Implying that The Lost Princess was MUCH older than Asher. Immortality, anyone?

“But there are... circumstances now. Nothing will come of this, Tahmonai.” If this theory is true, then those circumstances are that The Lost Princess doesn’t have her memories, she restarted her life. She isn’t the same person. It clicks.

“Stay in my office. I’ll make arrangements.” Implying he is going to see The Lost Princess to arrange a sort of meeting. But instead he goes to Fenic to send her through the portal. Funny writing there, don’t you think?

After Asher sends Fenic through the portal...

“Did I do the right thing, old friend...?” The name “old friend” is being used here to denote he’s talking about The Lost Princess. Perhaps where she/her reborn self just went through the portal?

“I have to believe this is what you wanted.” (The word “wanted” can be seen if you zoom in close, at least at full resolution). Keyword: “this”. Not “that”. “This” means something that is near, something that was just there. Why would he use “this” for something from someone who is dead? No, what if she, or a version of herself, was just there? And what exactly she, The Lost Princess, wanted? We’ll get to that in hint five.

TO THE NEXT PAGE!

PROBABLY THE HEAVIEST PAGE OF THEM ALL

“I already told you the person you’re looking for doesn’t exist anymore.” Not died, “doesn’t exist anymore.” Specific choice of words!

“Not in a way that’s useful to you.” As in she no longer has her memories, perhaps? That she’s currently a 15 year old? 

“And before she left, she told me...” Before she LEFT. Not died! LEFT!

“That she didn’t want her past to haunt her anymore.” THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT IN HINT FIVE.

“She started over.” BAM. PROBABLY THE CORNERSTONE OF THIS THEORY. Combine these three words with the rest of the theory, and you get the conclusion that “starting over” means something along the lines of reincarnation. But I’ll get to the reincarnation bit later. 

SO THATS ALL UP TO WHERE THE COMIC IS RIGHT NOW! BUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE REREAD?

HINT FOUR: FENIC AS A NAME

Now this one is a little shorter but in the prologue we see Fenic name herself for the first time.

After being called a lady, she sorta panics as, like, what’s she gonna do, give her a boy’s name when she’s a girl and just been called that? And her first instinct is to go with her mother’s name. Like, sure, maybe it’s because she think’s “girl’s name go” and the girl/woman/female closest to her is her mom. But I like to think it’s an instinct to keep the same name. It could be read either way, but I feel like it was worth mentioning. 

ALONG WITH A BONUS THEORY. The Lost Princess is trans. I’ve been thinking about how The Lost Princess would restart, and seeing how the maave is the same, the body is likely the same as well, implying a restart like that of a phoenix. Sorta. Meaning that the AGAB is the same. Maybe Asher didn’t know if restarting life would retain trans-ness or w/e OR he didn’t know The Lost Princess was trans. Either way he went with AGAB, clearly. I like to think that The Lost Princess spent a lot of time thinking about her name so it’s really ingrained in her so that it’s an instinct to be called Fenic :]

HINT FIVE: WHY?

So. That mystery chapter huh? Here’s a proposal- who we see is The Lost Princess.

Think about it, the person we see doesn’t have horns or some sort of tail or animal ears, eliminating someone who is purely Shade or Wildren. This leaves Fenic, The Dead Princess, or The Lost Princess, all born of both species. The hair doesn’t match The Dead Princess’s hair, so that eliminates her. 

This leaves the Fenics, whose hair DO match, assuming The Lost Princess and Fenic have the same hair texture, which in the frame of what has been discussed, it does. 

NOW THIS PAGE

Feels like a reason to be reborn to me.

Granted, this chapter, LITERALLY TITLED “premonition” and the names at the beginning could EASILY be shortened for Clairissa and Enae, who would’ve been only babies or unborn when The Lost Princess was around. This is VERY likely in the future, with Fenic. But I only realized this after I started referring to it earlier in the post, so no going back. 

But maybe it’s salvageable. Maybe Fenic is having the same thoughts as The Lost Princess. The Lost Princess, as stated in hint three, didn’t want the past to haunt her anymore. So she chose to forget in a new life, reborn. 

Maybe Fenic is thinking about following in her mother’s footsteps.

This premonition chapter, along with the whole other conspiracy board of “What’s up with Salin (The Dead Princess) and Tahmonai?”, have me very concerned for the future. 

Afterword

Thank you so much for getting this far ;w; I hope and pray that I made literally any sense. As I was collecting pages to put in here, I noticed that this is quite a common theory if the comment section of the pages is anything to go by. I thought so too before all this, so I didn’t really want to put the effort into a post, but Virgo encouraged me to make it anyway sooooo 

Either way, this can still work as a collection of evidence, and an archive on our, or at least my, thoughts on “What’s up with the Fenics” question! Hopefully later down the line we can look at this and be like, “called it!” or, “honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.” 

I could go on about the implications of this theory, but that’s another post of this length tbhhhhhhhhh and also its uh. 12am LOL.

Please reblog this to spread the theory! Even if it’s common, spread it to convince people to read gth? :pleading: I spent like. 2-3 hours on this to try to get my wording right and cohesive, which is really hard for me as I’m very much more an artist than a writer haaaaaaaaa

Thank you so much for reading again! Good morning, good afternoon, good night <3

[homesteadchronicles]

Hi there! I’m a new writeblr and i was just wondering if you had any advice for integrating myself into the community? I’m dreadfully awkward even online so I have no idea what I’m doing fbfbdbd so sorry to bother!!!

No need to be sorry - you’re one of us now! Helping the community is never a bother to me or to many others here. I’m happy to be of service, if I can!

There are plenty of methods to connect with others in the community! Here, let me list seven simple ways that have helped me personally (or that I know have helped others) - even if they be but a wee bit daunting:

1. Reblog and Comment on People’s Posts

This seems elementary, doesn’t it? I assure you, this has made me more friends on this site than anything else. Your first few weeks in the Writeblr Community will likely consist of you following every writer you can find and drifting aimlessly through the writeblr tag. Here’s my advice: whenever you see a post that catches your eye, click that reblog button and leave a reply. Not in the tags, not in the comments, but on the actual reblogged post itself.

Why do this? Because there’s no downside! No one looks at someone saying “wow, this character seems cool” or “ooh, this picture is so pretty” and goes: “...imma block this jerk”. Like, no. You know what they’re gonna do? Probably cry into their keyboard, thank the heavens above that someone took the time to notice them, and leave you a lovely thank you note in response.

It still baffles me how many people are shocked that I take the time to do this. You will never know what one act of kindness can do for you or for them. And the people that leave these kinds of love notes on my posts are the ones I’m more apt to reply to, follow, and reach out to in order to form a relationship with!

Not everyone will notice you. Not everyone will thank you. Not everyone will follow you. But plenty will - and even more will be impacted by your positivity! And people like me, and those I’m close with? We know who is making a difference in this community, and we champion those people.

2. Ask to Be Included on Tag Lists for WIPs

Now, you might be wondering how in the world you’ll find posts to respond to. Valid question! The easiest way I have found to do this, other than scouring a number of tags (#writeblr, #writing, #mywriting, etc.) for hours on end, is to ask to be included in a tag list. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, this means that the author will tag/mention you in every significant post related to this story/character/etc.

This saves my life. I don’t have time to search everywhere, so finding projects to follow and having them sent to my notifications instantly, is a blessing beyond compare. From there, you might find the names of other authors to connect with who could have WIPs of their own who you could also follow! Once you find one, you can find dozens more - it’s a chain reaction.

And if you need some ideas of what to be tagged in? My recommendations for where to get started would be: The LORE/SOLE series by @incandescent-creativity, The Dawnbringer by @ardawyn, and literally everything by @lady-redshield-writes. These three update consistently, interact with the community, and are just all-around lovely people with considerable followings.

3. Send Asks and Messages to People

Look at that, you’re already halfway there with this one! Now, you just need to take off that anonymous sign. Scary, I know. But it will make all the difference in the long run!

I’ve built relationships with certain people because they would send me asks on a consistent basis (back when I had the time to run weekly ask games). When I recognized their names, it endeared me to them, and I almost always wound up following and interacting with them. Some of them are my genuine friends now! 

Until you’ve built up a fanbase of your own, you can always interact with other people’s ask games. Tags like “#oc ask”, “#ask game”, or “writeblr ask” can be great sources for finding people to interact with! And, just like with the reblogs, there’s no downside. All you need to do is submit an ask with the appropriate info and BAM! Brownie points earned. Plus, if you take two seconds to look up their WIP’s title or the name of a character (even if you don’t know much about them), it’ll help them to feel like you value them and are making an effort to know them and the work they value so much.

4. Respond to “New Writeblr/Writeblr Intro” Posts

Have you ever made an introduction post so that others from the community knew you? If not, I’m sure you can imagine that you would like others to respond to that. No one wants to walk up to someone, introduce themselves, only for a chorus of crickets to replace any chance at conversation.

The good thing with these posts in particular are that they are all made by people in the exact same position as you! Yes, you’re all scared and timid and intimidated and not sure what you’re doing yet. That’s okay! They don’t bite. All they’re hoping for is to find other people they can relate with - and frankly, you’re in a better position to fulfill that hope than even I am!

5. Participate in Tag Games

Now, this one might seem odd. Don’t you need to be tagged to be part of a tag game? You would be correct! The thing is that plenty of people leave a fun little addendum to the end of their tag lists: “and anyone else who wants to be tagged”. That’s your golden ticket, my friend!

You could then post your response to the tag game, mentioning the author who tagged “anyone else” (that’s you!), and then mentioning other names of those you’ve followed or conversed with thus far! Just be aware of people who have requested not to be tagged in games or posts, but that number seems limited around writeblr (since most things require being tagged in to keep track of).

This is a simple way to engage with other people and post snippets of or thoughts about your own work without any pressure for people to respond! Trust me, there’s nothing wrong if someone doesn’t keep the game going - life’s just busy! But they’ll see your name. And, with any luck, they’ll remember it.

6. Find a Discord Community or Writing Group

This one might be more difficult for my fellow introverts, but it’s an option that can really pay off in the long run. There are a number of writing-centric Discord groups fluttering around that house authors and artists of every shape, size and style. If you’re tackling NaNoWriMo this year, there are a ton for that as well!

If you feel like jumping into a random community would be too much for you, you’re always welcome to join mine: The Homestead! We’re very low-key, and all take life at our own pace, so there’s no expectation for consistent interaction. But I’ve seen people continually encourage and uplift one another, which is beautiful to watch.

7. Ask People You Trust to Introduce You

What better way to find other people who are safe to connect with than asking someone you trust? If you’re submitting this ask, then I hope you have at least the tiniest bit of faith in me. If so, then allow me to recommend those members of our community who would be happy to get you acclimated and make new friends: @incandescent-creativity​, @ratracechronicler​, @paladin-andric​, @minas-writing​, @ardawyn​,  @feathered-quill​, @lady-redshield-writes​ and @noloumna​ are all lovely people who I’ve connected with on both a literary and personal level, and whom I trust would welcome you with open arms.

BONUS: I’ll Be Your Friend!

Look, if you’re all out of luck otherwise, you’ve come to a safe place. Reach out to me, if you’d like. We can talk on anon first, if you’d prefer, or keep it to my inbox for privacy’s sake. Or, heck, go crazy and just post on my stuff or tag me in yours! I am here to help make the community feel welcomed - and that includes making new members feel at home. My schedule is, admittedly, crazy, but I will always make time to meet you :)

Moral of the Story: Making friends means going the extra mile to prove to others that you think a relationship with them is worthwhile. An act of kindness and an outstretched hand will buy you more than any money or follower count or fancy writing project could.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret-Diary Attempts to Arbitrate Between Trans-Activism and Gender-Critical Radical Feminism. Yeah. This’ll End Well.

One of the most infuriating things about being a Person On The Internet is being forced by circumstance to form opinions on things you really, really don’t care about. It works like this: you see a lot of other people having opinions about something, and you try really, really hard not to form opinions of your own, because the issue they’re arguing over has nothing to do with you and is probably a storm in a teacup anyway. Unfortunately, you can’t help but mentally respond to the opinions everyone else is having, because they’re having them very loudly and in public spaces that you use to write and communicate. Before you know it, you’ve formed a carefully-considered view on something that you just wanted to ignore, and the only way to lance the boil is to write a blog entry about it. A blog entry that will probably invite five thousand tons of hatemail from both sides of the debate because it makes an effort to be moderate and to recognise the valid points of both sides, which people fucking hate for some reason. And so, with all that in mind, I’m about to try and put down my thoughts on Transactivism and Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism- two things that don’t involve me but which I’ve heard so much about that an opinion has glommed itself together in my mind-tank.

First of all, I’m socially liberal, in the classic sense of that term. Meaning that I think people should more or less be allowed to do and think what they like, so long as it doesn’t hurt other people. As such, I don’t generally have a problem with trans people. I don’t really care how any given person identifies provided they don’t expect me to use the word ‘genderfluid’ with a straight face (y’know, because ‘Gender Fluid’ sounds like a hastily-conceived euphemism for vaginal discharge).

Unfortunately, my general air of acceptance and live-and-let-live laissez-faire doesn’t extend to the nuttier fringes of trans-actvisism, because those nutty fringes really seem to hate radical feminists and- frankly, they just don’t deserve it. Not too long ago, in the yester-times, my sister wrote a short blog about how some parents and schools are encouraging young children to identify as trans, even though it’s a terrible idea because young children are prone to magical and transformative thinking and don’t have brains that are fully developed enough to think about the nuances of gender identity. My sister thought she wanted to be a boy until she grew up and realised she wasn’t trrans, she was just a butch lesbian. I didn’t even want to be human, and spent quite a lot of my childhood ‘identifying’ as an alien from a distant planet. Simply put, you risk doing more harm than good by assuming that any act of transformative thinking by a child is a sign of latent transgenderism, when its much more likely to be a child’s naturally experimentation with the concept of identity. Regardless of whether you agree with that chain of reasoning or not, you can presumably concur that it’s cogent, reasonable and comes from a place of wanting the best for the next generation, not from a place of hate. For daring to make this argument in a public forum, however, my sister received reams of hatemail from self-styled trans-activists using ‘TERF’ as an insult... included one guy who said that he hoped she got stabbed in the vagina. This seems to be part of a wider pattern of violent reactions of so-called TERFs. Did you know you can get T-shirts with fake ‘TERF blood’ on them, for example? To put it another way, the trans-activist community tends to overreact to mild criticism quite a lot. I’m naturally suspicious of this large, powerful group that explodes violently when confronted with even the lightest criticism.

Which brings me to TERFs. Are there horrible, transphobic TERFs who only want to use their feminism as an excuse to attack trans peeps? Yes. Do they represent the main bulk of gender-critical radical feminism? No. As far as I can tell, most TERFs are fairly normal people have no interest in invalidating or erasing trans identities. They just want ideological and liminal spaces for women who were born women and for some recognition of the continued existence of sex-based oppression (as separate from gender identification-based oppression). I’m not an expert or even any type of feminist, but that doesn’t seem unreasonable to me. Being a trans woman is a perfectly valid identity but it presumably entails a different set of experiences and identity issues to those confronted by women who were born as biological women. As such, its appropriate to have spaces that recognise that difference. Not everyone needs to be allowed access to every single cultural space. It’s okay to have different sections within the general discourse for different people with different issues.

None of this is to say that “TERFS = Good, Trans = bad”.That’s obviously not the case. Both groups have a mix of good people and irredeemable cunts. The problem is that the current, dominant cultural narrative ignores the sinister, mean spirited bastards in the trans-activist movement (and, in fact, gives them a free pas), while focusing exclusively on the worst excesses of gender-critical radical feminism. Instead of saying “here are two groups of people with good and bad points whose ideologies need to be discussed fairly and openly to find common ground”, the narrative says “all Trans people are good and noble and decent and all TERFs are saturday-morning cartoon villains with twirly mustaches”. And that’s an idiotic oversimplification. I don’t know whose side I’m on, in the final analysis, but I do know that no good can come out of a one-sided narrative that gives the worst people in one group a free pass while ignoring the more reasoned and thoughtful people in the other. I’m not completely for or against either group, but I am in favour of reasoned-discussion-without-contrived-argument and I am against excessively simplified cultural narratives.

ADDENDUM: Please don’t try to message me about this, or start a discussion in the reblogs. I’m annoyed that I even had to think about it this much. Also, don’t get your knickers in a twist over the ‘Gender Fluid’ joke- I’m not trying to invalidate your identity, it’s just a funny word.

[pandoraspocksao3]

Reylo Writer Get to Know You Game

I’m still newish to the Reylo fandom and would LOVE to meet more writers! (source I think is @newerconstellations)

I thought we could play a game, sort of like wearing name tags at a big party, to introduce ourselves.  #Reylo Writer Game

Here are the rules:

ONLY REYLO* FANFIC & META WRITERS submit for yourself, so people can find your Tumblr fast.  

Make it brief.  A short brand/tone statement and pitch/summary for only 3 works, to give a snapshot of you.  

Link whenever you can so readers can find your stuff!  

Fan Fic Reviewers are also welcome to join!

Reblog so you can control your entry.

Readers and writers, tag others to gather more Reylo love!

The more the merrier!   Here’s the form, I’ll kick it off in notes.

*As long as there is Reylo, just mark any “plus one” content (twin fic, Finnreylo, etc.)

Addendum: If you can, try to go to original post and reblog the last note to try to compile as many as possible in a nice long list!

————————

Tumblr:

AO3:

Name:

Brand/Tone:

1-3 Works with Pitch/Summary:

————————-

Tagging:

Thanks for tagging me, @cosmo-gonika @riaria84 !  

I’m Pandora_Spocks on AO3 and I only have three works, so this is easy. However, they are all very different.

1.  Dark Angel is a completed story about a Phantom of the Opera AU set in the Star Wars Universe. Kylo kidnaps Rey and takes her to a cave on Dagobah and tries to psychologically and physically turn her to the dark side. I tried to keep this in line with both elements from Gaston Leroux’s novel and Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical by combining characteristics of the Phantom and Kylo (this was written at the time of TFA). The tone is dark, brooding, and angsty and is 18+. 

2. Star Wars: The Lymphatic System Awakens  started of as a meta on massage and became a short light comedy sketch featuring an original character named “Fluka Highknockers” (rhymes with Luke Skywalker). Ben was sent by Han and Leia to her “Yeti Academy” by mistake and learns to be a massage therapist, but he has designs on Rey. It’s only 3 chapters and is complete. 

3. The Hypnotist  is my current WIP with 10/20 chapters completed. This is a reincarnation AU in which Rey and Ben are reincarnated and live in the USA. Ben is a hypnotist who remembers his past life and Rey is a young woman who does not recall her past life who is seeing Ben for sessions to aid with traumatic recurring nightmares (of her past life). The tone on this one is both a bit menacing as well as funny. Includes other characters from Star Wars as well as  a few Reylo Tumblr peeps! 

I’m also a Fan Fic Reviewer, and for the first year on here I mainly read and did betas for authors and reviews of stories I was reading that got passed around a lot, so you may know my name from my “What are you reading?” lists. Unfortunately, I don’t have them all gathered in one spot. @nancylovesreylo wrangled most of them for me, but when I tried to combine on a masterlist, it was VERY long with the summaries and the font is too large on phones, so I’ll try to fix it at some point. Right now, my focus is on completing The Hypnotist. 

I love discovering new authors and stories and believe in promoting other writers. I believe in spreading positivity and reaching out to others. Life is short - lets love each other and help each other through it! And let’s LAUGH whenever we can!

Tagging: @grlie-girl @greyforceuser @corariley @alicestill @dirtkid123 @carasstarwarsmusings @daxlo-ren @alienandie @anoonzee @miranda13ao3

@lastmouseleft @3todream3 @pacificwanderer @monsterleadmehome @albastargazer  and so many more - I could list all day, so just tag yourself if you want to play and NO PRESSURE if you don’t want to do it.