#and not only that but it gives me actual international experience for my degree and pays me so much more than my shitty job ever fucking di

[marzipanilla]

tabs w tabs under tabs.

Platonic connections do get shafted very badly by the narrative, huh? Arguably the Grayson family dynamic does get a decent spotlight, but Debbie is pretty significantly changed from her role in the comic, so her relationship with Mark is new to the adaption as well as her overall dynamic with Noaln.

Y'know, I didn't even think about the 'no choice/expectation' angle of the relationship? Like, Mark spends his whole life thinking he's gunna be a Hero Like Dad, and in his personal life suddenly he's got Girl Who Likes You For Sure So You Better Date Her. Like. Where is your choice in the matter. Half tempted to do a 'he and Amber work shit out or at the very least he shelves Eve's interest in him and just does literally anything else' fic bc of what he knows. Like yeah bud, it's okay to do something that isn't predetermined.

Screw going on a date, just hit up taco tuesday with Kate and talk about being a civilian vs being a hero.

A hero's sense of bodily autonomy must be seriously borked in Invincible universe, since most of them ARE lab experiments. And Rex definitely seems like the kind of person who wouldn't let things go that easily. Why wouldn't he be mercilessly weird about? Why wouldn't his fucked up feelings about it spill out over onto Amanda? Like, hey, if you date him, at least you'll know when he gets older he'll look like this. if you suck my dick it's the same dick so it doesn't count as cheating : ) Like. That would could AND SHOULD lbr get real fucking weird with how he acts around him. Or am I supposed to go with him having one outburst before just going 'I'm okay actually (internally screaming)'. But yeah, why AREN'T every member of GoG now worried about what he'd do to them without their consent/knowing? Did the GDA figure out it was Robot who let the Mauler Twins out in the first place? I mean he knew where they were and arrested them once he got what he wanted, and there ain't no way they aren't talking about who they worked for? Ain't no way ppl don't realize it was them who helped Rudy out, right ?? Right? ??

Imagine Debbie having to sit Mark down like 'I know you're a hero but I can't have you freeloading on me when I'm 70. Please get a job that actually pays you'. What's the living at home still culture of heroes? For the non-indestructible ones, how do they cover all those damn medical bills? Does Art run a special payment plan on suits?? how much do those indestructible suits cost?? why isn't he outfitting the fire department ?? does he ?? I do love the throwaway line that implies he also outfits anti-heroes/villains tho. Like. I'm neutral. I just make clothes. bruh. Darkwing fought some of your clients ?? bc he was willing to go after other heroes or bc they were doing crime ?? Art explain.

Mark seeking a mentor/refusing mentorship after his dad would have been neat. I saw someone say he and Immortal had a parental thing and I just squinted at my screen like ??? where ??? where do you see that ??

Also, I will laugh and laugh and laugh forever about the show giving me just enough rope to hang the entire Levy incident on Immortal lol Like, bro really went to stalk a recently injured TEENAGER to yell at him rather than do his job scouting the ruins of a fight HIS TEAM should have been at to begin with, and BOTH survivors of the blast got away to wreak more havoc. You suck bro.

It's like, I get it to some degree, the greater global stuff isn't what the narrative is focusing on - this is adapted from a 20 year old comic- but like you're changing mediums! You're tweaking the story ! Give us a throwaway line about how this world operates! One pissy comment from someone about Cecil/the GDA being the real shadow government, borders melted long ago ! Yet, the one line we kind of get about stuff, is Bulletproof calling out Cecil for only being interested in saving white Americans! And it's like. if that comment wasn't total snark, does that mean Cecil IS hoarding very important global resources to protect a small population? How many other organizations are trying to do the same? Does he just have the monopoly on power right now because he got control of GoG? Also still baffled that Immortal cared so much to yell at Shapesmith about AMERICANS getting left behind on Mars and not just, y'know, HUMANS. Why was that an important factor in the anger Immortal. Why.

Are there incentives to try and get superheroes to have kids in your country?? Recruiters?? We'll pay your bills if you keep us alive and ONLY us? Live here for free, but you work for us kind of shit. Has to be.

Debbie being so chill with Mark going into space bc as a toddler the damn GoG where taking him around the planet doing insane shit with him in the back seat lol There had to have been some Incident with Cecil. Girl you just yelled at a man taking medical care of your comatose husband. 'You have some nerve' she yells at Cecil the moment he shows his face. SOME NERVE? About what? What happened between you two????

Like I'd love to poke more at her sense of physical danger in the hero world. I lover her ambivalence about the destruction of the white house, and Nolan going into alien portals being Tuesday, like- does she have a weird bubble in her brain that bad things happen To Other People? Arguably she had a bit of one for Nolan that burst when he was in the coma, but how much does that extend to what she thinks could physically happen to her? I do love how willing she is to full on confront Nolan about stuff and part of my brain just wants to be like 'that's a sign of a healthy relationship, being able to bring up your concerns w your partner' and the other half of my brain is just like 'Debbie isn't the least bit hesitant about confronting a massive brick shit house of a guy ?? does she just have no sense of personal danger ?? what was her upbringing ???' or am I suppose to conclude that in a superhero world where crazy shit happens all the time People Are Just Like That, bc yeah, you could die in an alien swarm invasion so why hold back talking to the people who could physically hurt you ! There's men running around with canons welded to their arms ! you got nothing to lose !

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[roseofcards90]

I'm like so mad lmao like why are parents the absolute worst

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

You Need Only Ask [professor!Marcus Pike x librarian!reader]

Read on Ao3

Pairing: History of Art professor Marcus Pike x art library reader/you (cishet female)

Tags/Warnings: Kind of pining idiots but only one is pining, everyone is being professional but it's clear that Marcus is a pining idiot, implied coworkers to lovers.

Summary: Professor Marcus Pike is one of those cliché absent-minded professors - or so you think, but maybe there's another reason why this brilliant academic is acting a dumb fool around you?

Words: 3,534

A/N: This was inspired by an ask sent to me by @just-here-for-the-moment for a fic ask game thingy. Here's the original ask and my reply. I didn't write it exactly like that (main difference is my fic is set in modern times), but I hope y'all still like it!

”Good morning.”

Your customer service smile in place, you look over your shoulder.

”Morning, Professor. Just give me a second and I will be right with you.”

He hums, and you turn back to the bookcase where you were just about to finish re-shelving returns. Once done, you join Marcus Pike, Professor of Art History, at the desk. He’s tapping his fingers, almost impercievably, against the surface of the old solid wood desk, and you stifle a sigh. He didn’t have to wait that long.

”What can I do for you?” you ask politely. Professor Pike is never rude, but he is the typical professor type: absent-minded, a little awkward, his research always the number one priority.

“I looked for this book in the online catalog, but as I suspected, you don’t have it. It’s probably sold out, too.” He gives you a piece of paper before both his hands disappear into his pockets.

“Another inter-library loan, then?” you state, looking at the title. It’s in French, and you know immediately that your library doesn’t have it. Professor Pike is not the most computer-skilled person, so you usually double-check every book he asks for in the database, but this one you know you don’t have.

“Might have to go international for this one,” you tell him. “Canada och Europe. That’s coming out of your department’s budget, you know that.”

“I’ll make room,” he shrugs, looking towards the door, like he can’t wait to get back to the comfort of his own office. “And could you please give me more time with the last one you got for me? I need it for a bit longer.”

“I’ll contact the lending library,” you nod. “I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Thank you.”

The “Sure thing” has barely left your mouth before Pike is out the door, the sound of his steps against the stone floor quickly disappearing down the hall. You shake your head before sitting down to look up the book for him.

As you work, you once again wonder how people like Marcus Pike get jobs at all. Someone as introverted as that would never have a real shot at getting a library job, which requires people skills, patience, and the ability to stand in front of people. But when it comes to academia, it seems like all you need is credentials and a good research profile, and you’re hired. Unlike you, who had to fight tooth and nail for this position. You have Master’s degrees in art and library science, educational and language studies, job experience, and it was still almost impossible to get this job. People who have these jobs never seem to retire but just sit there, year after year, until they eventually sprout roots that fasten them to their chairs.

But you’re here now, since five years, and while Pike’s predecessor never showed his face in the library but sometimes sent you cryptical emails requests that took you half a day to decipher, it’s nice to see that the much younger professor actually frequents the university’s special arts library.

Finally locating Pike’s book in a university library in France, you quickly find the instructions for ILL’s, and send a loan request. After that, you apply for more time for Pike’s previous book, and by afternoon, you have confirmation for both books: one will be mailed out later during the day in Europe, the other has been renewed. You let Pike know through an email, before performing closing duties in the library. Your computer pings just as you’re about to turn it off, and you see that it’s a reply from Pike. Clicking it up, you see the very unlikely response:

>>Amazing, what a service. Just bill the department, I’ve got it covered. Thank you so much 😊 <<

Shaking your head in disbelief at the informal tone, you turn off the computer, clock out, and go home.

Professor Pike is back two days later, now asking for a book that’s available. When you tell him so, he clears his throat, gaze flickering away from you.

“Could you maybe show me where it is?”

“Sure.” You’re curt, because this isn’t the first time. It’s an easy enough book to find, and every item in the library is labeled, and the database even has an interactive feature where you can click on the item’s call number to open up a layout of the stacks, showing the correct shelf in red. It has freed you up a lot now that most patrons can easily find their literature themselves, but some people just want you to do everything for them.

“You know, Professor, you could maybe my start of term library tour useful,” you dare to tease him as you walk before him to the right case. “Most freshmen find it very helpful, and they can usually manage their own information retrieval after.”

“I think maybe a little touch-up course would do me good,” he replies, voice a little tight. “But I like personal service.”

You find the book, pull it out, and hand it to him.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you tell him easily. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He swallows visibly.

“No, thank you.”

He uses the self check-out this time, and leaves quickly without saying goodbye. You shake your head, and catch the eye of Mandy, a Master’s student who works on her thesis in the library almost every day.

“Strange fellow, that one, isn’t he?”

She gives you a peculiar look. “I guess so.”

One thing that you appreciate a lot about your job is the building itself. The campus was built in Collegiate Gothic style in the middle of the 19th century, and compared to the nearby city library with its white surfaces, glass walls, and modern design furniture, the much quieter arts library still seems more alive. The library houses more books than one would think when first seeing it, and it has the charming nooks and crannies that are so common for old houses.

You’re standing in one of those nooks one day; an alcove that houses folios, a cart of tall books parked next to the step stool that you’re standing on. You hear someone enter the library, shout out a “Hello!” as you usually do to let patrons know that you’re in the stacks, and receive a low answer. Mindful not to hurt your wrists, you pick up another folio from the cart, and put it back in its place.

The sound of footsteps stops at the desk, and you pick up the next book.

“Be right with you!”

The patron moves again, slowly walking towards the corner where you are, as if looking for you. You turn your head just as you see Professor Pike come around the corner of a bookcase.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” you nod, picking up the next book. “Almost done.”

“I got your email about the book from France. They sent it rather fast.”

“I was surprised, too,” you admit. There’s one book left, and you really should get down from the stool, move it, and get up again, but you’re lazy. You reach, getting up on your toes, just barely getting the book into place when you feel the stool slip from under you. You gasp, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head during the split second you’re in free fall, and then you land softly, not on the floor, but against a corduroy chest, strong arms holding you.

“Shit, that was close!”

You’re tongue-tied, wide-eyed with shock, heart in your throat and going a mile a minute to make up for the missed beats.

“Are you okay?”

You slowly start to realize that you’re in the arms of Marcus Pike, who caught you when you fell from the stool. And he’s still holding you.

“Yeah, I, yeah, fine, I’m good.” You babble, moving uncomfortably to let him know to let you down, which he does with the utmost care. Your legs are wobbly, and Pike keeps a hand on your waist to make sure you won’t fall.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you now giggle, embarrassed but simultaneously exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline. “That wasn’t stupid at all, was it? I’ve been thinking about having that stool replaced, but I never got around to it, haha. I guess it takes an accident for me to get my thumb out of my a-, I mean, to get it done.”

Your cheeks are heating up, your hands are shaking as you grab the handles of the cart, kicking the accursed stool to the side.

“That was really scary, though,” Pike tells you in a low voice. “You could’ve really injured yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, thanks for catching me.” You bite your lower lip and force yourself to look at him. “I’m so embarrassed. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Just glad I was here,” he shrugs, slowly following you as you march to the desk. “Although one could argue that had I not been here, you wouldn’t have tried to restack that heavy book without moving your stool. Sorry if I stressed you.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him lightly. “I sometimes cut corners like that. It’s fine, no harm done.”

You park the cart in its spot behind the desk, and turn to the shelf of reserved books.

“Here’s your inter-library loan. Due date four weeks from now, if you need it for longer, you know the drill.”

“I do,” he replies quietly and accepts the book from you. Holding it in one hand, he carefully opens it with the other, and thoughtfully browses through it. You sit down, flustered and still a little shaky, hoping that he’ll leave so that you can nurse your wounded pride, and maybe have a drink of water.

“It’s about these eighteenth-century art frauds in Europe – “

“I know. I read the title,” you cut him off, more curt than you meant to. Pike closes the book and nervously fingers the paper slip in it.

“You read French?”

“I even speak it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “Of course you do.”

You stare at him, frowning as you try to understand what his deal is, and why he’s suddenly smiling like that. It’s never happened before.

And you’ve never noticed what a charming smile he has. It reveals a dimple in his right cheek that makes him look younger than he is – not that he’s old in any way, he must be around your age, somewhere between forty and fifty. The smile makes you even more shaky, and you can’t stop staring at him. He eventually notices, the smile dies down, and he lowers his eyes.

“Well, thanks,” he mumbles, turning around and walking away briskly, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what the hell happened.

Mandy comes in from her lunch break, waves a hello, then stops when she sees you.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod dismissively. “I’m fine, Mandy. I just… almost fell from a stool. But no harm done.”

She expresses her sympathies before going to the study area. You take a deep breath, and disappear into the back room for a glass of water.

There’s tittling in the stacks, but you don’t pay it any mind: it’s part of library life, especially on a campus filled with hormonal young adults. It’s not until your hear Professor Pike’s name mentioned that you stop writing on your keyboard, and strain to hear better.

“He’s the best lecturer here.”

“And he’s so fucking hot, don’t you think?”

“Cara! He’s a million years old!”

“No, he’s not, he’s like the youngest of the faculty, except for Langley, but she’s a woman.”

“Well, I’m bi, and she’s fine too.”

Shameless giggling ensues, and you have to stifle one as well.

“Wouldn’t mind doing some extra credit for Professor Pike…”

“That’s so tacky, Mindy.”

“Come on, like you haven’t thought about it.”

The girls appear from the stacks, carrying literature over to the self service check-out.

“I just think that his lectures are amazing. He can explain literally anything so that I get it. And he knows so much.”

You stare at your screen, but you’re listening to the students.

“He should lecture more, why doesn’t he have any classes?”

“Dug, because he’s a professor, he has other things to do.”

“I’d give him something to do…”

More giggling.

“I’m serious! I ended upw atching that Youtube lecture twice just because he’s so good!”

The girls borrow their books while talking, then nod good-bye to you as they leave. You nod back, then hit up Youtube, and type in Professor Marcus Pike.

You find a video of him giving a lecture on the history of art, and open it. And your jaw drops.

The man in the video is confident without being cocky, talkative, engaging, contact-seeking. He speaks clearly, even drops a couple of jokes, and he walks around the podium in the auditorium. If it wasn’t for that corduroy jacket with the leather patches at the shoulders, the one that you had enveloped around yourself last week, you wouldn’t have recognized the man.

You close the video and chew your lower lip. You always thought Pike was this nutty professor who didn’t know how to behave around people and preferred books to socializing. But the man in the video is nothing like that. So what is his problem when talking to you?

Navigating to Facebook, you search his name, finding him easily enough. He doesn’t seem to be very active, but his professional profile is listed.

His status is set to “single”, which surprises you, but you think no further of it. You click on to photos, finding only a few, most of them outdated.

“Good afternoon.”

You look up, startled at the familiar voice. Seeing Marcus Pike’s face, you close the browser window quickly.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, I was just… working.”

He clears his throat. “I’d like to return this.”

You accept the book from him, recognizing it as one of his previous ILL’s.

“Thank you.”

A couple of students come in, saying hello to both of you before disappearing into the stacks, phones in hand, library catalog probably open in their mobile browsers. Marcus looks after them, moving his weight from one foot to the other. You put the book to the side.

“Anything else I can do for you, Professor?”

He almost jumps at the sound of your voice.

“Um, no, thank you, I have to get back to work, grad student coming to see me, um, thanks, I’ll let your know if I need anything.”

He leaves the library, and you’re almost laughing. What the hell was that?

As soon as the students have found and borrowed their books, and you’re alone in the library with Mandy, she gets up and comes over to the desk. You smile your mild customer service smile at her, but she returns it with a wry grin.

“You know that he likes you right?”

You blink, not understanding. “Excuse me?”

“Professor Pike. He likes you.”

You shake your head to show her that you have no idea what she’s talking about, and she laughs.

“Oh, come on! The way he stutters and stumbles when he’s here. And he talks about you all the time, every chance he gets.”

“He what?” Your voice goes up, and you clamp your mouth shut. Mandy nods.

“He always tells us to use the library, and ask you for help. The librarian there is really competent, we’re lucky to have such a professional at our service, that sort of thing.”

“Why do you think that means he likes me?” you ask, cheeks heating up. This is stupid, this girl is half your age, and you’re talking like both of you are in middle school.

“Because he’s super confident in class, in meetings, whenever he talks to anyone, except you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hello!” Mandy rolls her eyes. “Earth to librarian lady! He’s like a flustered cinnamon bun whenever he’s around you – “

“Cinnamon bun?” you interrupt her, incredulously.

“Cutie patootie in old folk speech,” Mandy smirks at you, and you scoff.

“I know what a cinnamon bun is.”

“Whatever. He comes here constantly, doesn’t he? I sit here most days, and no other faculty member visits as much. He’s here practically every day, asking you the simplest questions. He’s into you.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about, Mandy,” you mumble, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Alright, if you say so,” she smirks. “But I know what I’d do if I were you.”

Later, when she leaves the library, wishing you a good weekend, you open up the browser window again, Pike smiling charmingly at you from his profile picture. You look at it for a long time before logging out, and getting up to reshelf returns.

Friday afternoon in the library makes for slow hours. It’s usually empty – even Mandy has left – and while it gives you the opportunity to prepare for next week, there are Fridays when you’d rather just close up, if you could, and go home early.

A quarter to four, when you’re impatiently tapping your foot for closing time, Marcus Pike shows up again. Mandy’s words echo in your head, making you nervous for the first time, but you manage to suppress that, instead turning on your professional persona.

“Back so soon?” you ask him lightly

“Yeah, I need a book.” He seems to understand himself how stupid that sounded.

“You’ve come to the right place.”

He tells you the title, and you look it up.

“It’s in, call number N5198-5299,” you inform him, then looking up at his hesitant expression. “It’s in the corner over there.”

“Um, could you show me? I’m not good at this.”

“Okay.” You get up and walk around the desk. “But it’s a class that you use a lot, Professor, you should be accustomed to it by now.”

“Marcus.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Marcus. I don’t much like titles anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

You take him to the right stacks, walking in between the heavy cases. It’s a tight squeeze, this one, and the book is located further in. You pick it out, and turn around, only to find Marcus standing right behind you.

You’ve been in this situation before, many times even. Worst times were when you worked in the city library, and creeps would crowd you between the stacks, not trying anything but coming closer than necessary.

Your heart misses a beat, but you’re not uncomfortable. Instead, you smell something familiar and comforting, something besides old paper, leather covers, and ink. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Marcus’s cologne, the corduroy, his shampoo: earthy but fresh, a little like the forest after rain, but with an undertone of old leather armchair.

You wet your lips, and hold up the book he asked for.

“Your book.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t take it, so you lower your hand. He clears his throat, but this time, he doesn’t look away, but straight into your eyes.

“I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” you breathe.

“There’s this classic movie festival this weekend, and I was wondering…”

“If I wanted to go with you?” you finish his sentence for him, as he takes too long for you to wait. He blinks, then smiles that sweet smile again.

“Exactly. Yes. Would you?”

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” The smile seems to broaden even more.

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Perfect. I can pick you up, if you want to. At six?”

“Perfect,” you echo, now smiling widely yourself. He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath this entirely time.

“Perfect.”

The desk phone rings, startling both of you. The book falls from your hand, and you look down at it, then up at Marcus.

“I need to get that.”

“Of course,” he nods. You make a little movement with your head.

“I need to get past you, Marcus?”

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.”

He backs out from between the cases, letting you out as well. His cologne seems to rub off on your arm when you brush past him, hurrying to the desk. You answer the phone and try to focus on the person calling, take a couple of notes, and end the call just as Marcus comes walking to the desk, book in hand. You check it out for him, give him your number, and he smiles again as he thanks you. You follow him to the door so that you can close up after him.

“I’ll call,” he promises as he steps out. You nod, hand on the door handle.

“Looking forward to it.”

He raises the book as a farewell, then starts walking down the corridor. You’re about to close the door when you suddenly step out, calling his name.

“Marcus!”

He turns around immediately, and now that he’s standing with his back straight, instead of hunched over, you notice how tall and broad-shouldered he is.

“Yes?”

“For the record… you’re into me, right?”

He chuckles, his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I’m into you.”

“Just checking,” you grin. “See you tomorrow.”

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (23) Apology

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter23)

Summary: Rosie shares a surprise with her parents and uncle. All of them have different thoughts about this unexpected development, and silent negotiations are carried out.

Twenty-Three Years Old

I knew that Papa not fully understood my reason for studying international politics and data, but to his credit he didn’t for one second try to convince me to give it another thought and opt for something science related instead. Dad was just relieved that I’d finally had found a path to walk, after several failed attempts. Uncle Myc, well he tried to hide how utterly pleased he was with my choice, but by now I knew him well enough to read the signs. Truth be told, said signs weren’t that subtle.

“Bien choisi ma chérie,” he beamed at me, while Papa scowled at him.

“Merci oncle,” I retorted. “I can’t wait to start this and go to Paris.”

The three-year BA degree was taught by The University of London Institute in Paris. We would be taught in English, but if we had an A level in French, we could also take French courses. I’d learned French in school for years, and uncle Myc and I often conversed in French when uncle Greg wasn’t around.

I think it’s needless to say that my security and comfort in France was well taken care of. Papa and uncle Myc had a conversation using their eyes only when I spilled the beans. Dad knew exactly what was going on and went to make tea while negotiations were carried out. Once the brothers were satisfied, uncle Myc took out his phone and sent several texts or emails. By now, I knew it’ll be futile to pester any of them of what was going on. I was just relieved that no one had tried to talk me out of it, making me feel uncertain or guilty for leaving the country; actually, moving out of my childhood home.

My reasons for choosing this subject were multifaceted. I’d always enjoyed learning facts, obscure and otherwise, about different countries and cultures. Having had a relatively unorthodox upbringing, containing all sorts of people, played a big part too. The cherry on top was that the school was abroad. Nana’s tales of her experiences overseas and how educating it is to have lived some time in another country and society, had always seemed enticing to me.

***

The university was situated close to the Invalides and the Seine, while my lodgings were in the Charonne area in the 11th arrondissement on a cosy cobble street, with a nearby metro station. My landlady, Marguerite Vachon was one of uncle Myc’s acquaintances, from where, I still have no idea. 

Marguerite preferred that I used her given name instead of the formal, Madame Vachon.

“Je ne suis pas ancient,” was her favourite line and reminded me quite a lot of Nana.

“I am not ancient, dear,” was a statement Nana had used every so often.

Marguerite was a petite and elegant woman. Her hair was cut in a bob, coloured black with a few red stripes. I never saw her without lipstick or makeup. She always wore bespoke dresses and high heeled shoes. I deduced that she was far more than a landlady. When I left for school in the morning, I could hear her sing or talk on the phone, and when I returned, she always opened her door and inquired about my day.

“She’s clearly spying for Mycroft,” Papa’s voice told me.

And there was something about her, which I couldn’t put my finger on. Something mysterious, secret, perhaps even dangerous. 

***

It seemed like Marguerite had my schedule memorised. Not that I’d given her the information, but when she slipped, I got my suspicions confirmed. To be fair, it wasn’t slipping per se. She couldn’t have known that class was dismissed early that day.

Luckily, I spotted her and was able to hide behind a wall before she saw me. I’d almost missed her, because she wasn’t wearing her normal dress and high heels, but red trousers, a white and blue-striped jumper, and white trainers. Instead of one of her posh handbags, she had a dark blue canvas bag diagonally draped over her chest.

Papa had taught me a few tricks when it came to the fine art of following people without being discovered. I’ve never had much use of them obviously, but now I saw an opportunity. How I would explain this and apologise if I was caught, never crossed my mind.

I was sceptical when Marguerite walked to the metro station, but I was able to get into the same carriage as her, and it seemed that she had no idea she was being followed. She got off three stops later and walked in the direction of the big Père-Lachaise cemetery.

A fitting location for obscure and shady affairs.

Marguerite knew where she was going, walking briskly but not hurried. I had walked the premises several times before and knew where she was headed when I saw the grand tomb of Sir Richard Wallace, the British baronet who contributed millions to the Parisian poor during the Siege of Paris in the early 1870s.

This reeked of another posh Brit I knew.

When Marguerite had placed a folder by the tomb and another woman picked it up five minutes later, I had a hard time keeping myself composed. The woman picking up the folder was the French equivalent of Anthea.

I sent uncle Myc a text when both women were out of sight.

Thanks for keeping track on me, but this thing is like being part of a French noir film. You can tell Papa I think you’re both growing sentimental, and I demand an apology!

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

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[savagewildnerness]

There’s really an awful lot of pondering on death & suicide & what it takes to endure existence in The Vampire Lestat… for all it’s viewed as a lighter book than Interview with the Vampire! Like, to the degree that every single main character is at some point either suicidal or wishes to die… or that actually happens. Even though the majority of them are immortal!

It’s making me wonder on this re-read, where I try to think about it more deeply, rather than just reading it - is an innate understanding of how difficult it is to endure/how easy it could be to just slip from existence a reason many of us initially loved this book? Is that Anne can articulate so well that desire to escape oneself & how it feels when that’s impossible one of the most important themes of the books?

Obviously, I’ve spoken about it often: I always associated with Nicolas a lot. Primarily due to how he perceives his own ability/experience of violin playing (I was 12. I definitely wasn’t then, nor am I now anywhere near as cynical as Nicolas….) but I don’t say it is *only* the violin & Nicolas’ music & how he feels to play and about his music that I associate with. Not least because in my opinion, how Nicolas perceives his own music is a reflection of how he perceives himself & how he perceives the world.

In any case, after my last night pondering on Armand’s internal desolation & the way he is actually most emptied of feeling when filled with some external source… yet that’s what he desires/needs because it is the only way he can feel safe… and he’d welcome death it feels if it came to him rather than him having to seek it, and going against God.

Well anyway, I haven’t read on yet, but I listened to the next bit on audiobook as I drive today. And it really struck me how delicate everyone’s mind & heart is.

Nicolas is actually like a fragile genius as a vampire - creating wildly creative, dark plays, articulating the horrors he feels are true (& thus creating Good Art Actually Lestat!) yet he cannot cope. But is it really *madness* that Nicolas screams of horrors in the streets to mortals; that he wants to create a league of vampires; that he wants humans to destroy them all; that he cannot bear it? It seems quite natural to me. Not mad really at all!

And Lestat too, gives himself over to death in despair. For all he talks of enduring, he would not have been able to rise this first time he went into The Earth, but for Marius saving him. And no wonder. He has lost everything. Lestat, talking on fate & how if we escape it, perhaps it waits for us.

It’s hard for me, as a friend died last week at a similar mortal age to Nicolas’ 30 years & this whole part is death & inability to cope with the simple Horror of existence. (Albeit; monstrous existence… but existence *is* monstrous as it is, right? Vampires are a fantastical representation of the very real & way more horrific in my opinion (as it can’t be contained in beautiful, sensual, philosophical vampires in reality…) truth of the actual horror of existence for us all.)

And Lestat speaking on fate reminds me too of Debbie. A girl I went to secondary school with. When she was 11 she got Lupus & her secondary school years were awful, but she endured. I didn’t keep in touch with her after school & her Uncle worked in aircraft engineering & got her a good job. But she survived Lupus in her teenage years, only for death to claim her at 23 in a totally unrelated way… as if it had always just lain in wait. She had escaped it, but then fate waited for her.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I kind of want to create a poll, but I’ve just made myself laugh out loud at what that poll would be - like something like *Did your wee tween self relate to the self-immolatory desires of vampires?* Nice cheery question for a Monday!

I don’t mean it in a depressing way though. We can talk about The Horrors, while allowing joy & fun & play & amusement & silliness & innocence & childlikeness, right? Can we? I am not sure what I’m getting at…?

But this part is hard for me to read right now. And yet cathartic always too. Because… we all feel it, right? Anne is expressing what we humans feel in our tiny existences too.

How to bear it? The overwhelmingness of that.

Right?

[xclowniex]

So Israel can openly bomb a school that is a KNOWN. SHELTER. FOR. REFUGEES. and yet you won’t call their behavior “genocidal” simply because the proper channels won’t call it that (even tho there’s plenty of evidence proving that what they’re doing is the text book definition of genocide)

You say all the time to everyone else “listen to Israelis” but you tip toe around the Palestinians putting their lives on the line to expose what Israel is doing

Israel only bombs areas where hamas uses it as either a base or to carry out military operations. It a war crime by hamas to use civilian areas for those purposes. It still sucks and is a tragedy that those areas and buildings are getting destroyed, do not get me wrong, however the fault in the eyes of international law lies with Hamas not Israel.

If that is your logic for it being a genocide, then by your logic, it would be Hamas which is at fault for a genocide.

Again, I am going to trust those with relevent degrees and experiences relevent to calling it a genocide as your average person does not have all the information to call it one.

Your average person does not have all the information regarding military operations from both sides as well as how to properly interpret international law. I am literally simply just recognizing where I lack expertise and leaving it up to the experts, and I reccomend others do the same. Its not good to act like an expert in something you are not an expert in. It actually leads to spreading misinformation.

I would also like to say, how am I tip toeing? I have literally made multiple posts in support of Mosab Hasan Yousef who is a Palestinian who had to seek political assylum in the US so he would not get killed.

What do you expect me to do? Dedicate my whole blog? Do you not want me to talk about antisemitism and xenophobia? Because the thing is, my blog is mainly talking about those two things. Telling people to listen to and talk to Israelis is relevent to those two things. People 100% should be listening to Palestinians too. You are literally pulling a bean soup theory here. Aka don't ask an account who posts about bean soup recipies to post non bean soup recipies and instead find someone else who posts non bean soup recipies.

If you want to read a blog which is mainly about Palestinians, do find a blog which posts mainly about Palestinians. I am not going to give in to your idea of "anyone who talks mainly about antisemitism and Israelis must hate palestinians" as that is stupid. To use another analogy, just because I post mainly about pancakes does not mean i hate waffles.

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 33 : to flirt or not to flirt

Monkeys tries to navigate through jealousy

Sun Wukong, the Great sage equal to heaven, the victorious fighting Buddha, the Handsome Monkey King, had never felt more powerless in his entire life. As he stood dumbly before the remains of Macaque's once seat, he cursed his own mouth for being so loose. Not that he thought he said anything objectively wrong, he only said the truth : the huli jing wouldn't be able to seduce him, for already knew her ways (considering he used the same ways in his time to trick his enemies). But even so, he could have worded better. Perhaps, bragging about how he used to charm his foes wasn't his smartest move, especially since he called the huli jing cute (it was meant to be mocking, but it could have come off as an endearment for anyone not seeing the sneer on the edge of his lips). 

In any case, whatever the reason for Macaque's outburst, the sage knew he had to at least apologize and explain himself, in hope of clarifying that no one was able to catch his eyes when his gaze was already turned towards his moon. The solution was quite simple in itself, they just had to talk, yet Sun Wukong felt incredibly nervous. Even with all his experiences in seducing, the sage was still a novice when it came to actual relationships. He never loved anyone but Macaque, pushing away any other suitors chasing after him, as such he didn't really know how to approach this situation. Did he need to apologize on his knees? Or simply talking about it was enough? Did he need to bring offerings? How much could he act like a lover? 

Sun Wukong had never been one for apologies, he often preferred actions over words. It isn't as if he never apologized, he did say sorry to Macaque for their past (often with tears eating his face) but it was still difficult to word it right. The King was brought out of his fretting by his mentee's inquiries. 

“You're okay Monkey King? What happened?” Asked MK with a tilted head, throwing one or two worried glances to the seat's remains. 

“Y-yeah, I'm okay.” Awkwardly chuckled the sage, not really knowing how to explain what happened. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Cheng was more than happy to explain everything. 

“From what I gathered, one of the contestants flirted with my brother. Then my brother proceeded to tell me how he would not fall for it and how it was cute she was even trying because he is a master of seduction and seduced a lot of people in his time.” They all turned towards the sage with various degrees of disappointment or bewilderment, Sun Wukong felt a cold sweat run on his temples, he internally cursed Cheng. 

“This guy…” Sighed Mei as she face-palmed. 

“Okay… It’s not your smartest move Monkey King but it's not terrible! You didn't really flirted back.” Awkwardly chuckled his mentee, ever the optimistic. 

“You'd be dead if you really flirted back, immortalities be damned.” Snorted the peacock, the sage wanted oh so badly to smack him in the head. 

“How do I talk to him?” Asked the King, because this is what he truly wanted to know. He mainly looked at Sandy, knowing that the giant had the greatest advice when it came to communication.

 “I think you just have to ask him, Mister King. Say that you want to talk about what happened but don't pressure him either, if he doesn't feel like talking right now, don't force him.” Wisely replied the tea-lover, like always a fountain of wisdom when it came to those matters. Sun Wukong half-wanted to beg Sandy for a therapy session, knowing it would be easier to express himself in a more familiar setting. Yet there was a part of him who wished to resolve this without recurring to therapy. Until now, they both never really tried to talk about this sort of issue outside of Sandy's session, and while Wukong was grateful for the sessions (he ought to give Sandy something for putting up with them) he also wanted to be able to confront Macaque without needing someone to create a bridge between them. He was also very aware that this situation stemmed from their uncertain relationship and its newest romantic nature and Sun Wukong wasn't ready to tell anyone about the messy feelings he was navigating through with Macaque, at least not without Macaque explicit agreement on the matter. 

“Okay, yeah, sounds right.” Mumbled the sage, he was stopped by the kids before he could leap in the sky. 

“And invite him on a date!” Called MK without a speck of shame. The sage faltered, cheeks burning, and turned towards his mentee with a squeak on his lips. 

“Yeah! We planned something for you both!” Added the dragon girl with an excited smile. Sun Wukong stayed a few seconds dumbfounded, trying to process what he just heard. He strangled himself with his own spit and hid himself behind his palm once he fully realized what they were both proposing. 

“I-I'm not… what?” Mumbled the sage with flushed cheeks. 

“Don't even try to deny your feelings Monkey King.” Snorted the girl with a knowing look. 

“W-whatever, I'm going home.” Grumbled the King, he took flight without even waiting for the other's replies, already knowing the quips waiting on the kids’ lips, or the mocking word on the tip of his so-called brother's peak. 

He transformed back the moment he touched the palace ground. The sage hurried towards Macaque's room, not wanting to let this problem fester like an infected wound. He stopped once he caught sight of his room and hesitated a few seconds before rushing in it. The sage quickly brushed aside any stray strands, making sure he looked at least presentable, and then ran to the kitchen to steal a basket and fill it with only the freshest of mangoes. Once everything was ready, he took a deep breath to steady himself and walked towards Macaque's room, gently knocking on the door. He waited a few seconds, tail twisted nervously, and startled when the door opened. Macaque looked quite rough, eyes glistening with a thin veil of frustrated tears, lips slightly bitten by one of his fangs and tail lashing quietly at his feet, swishing angrily in-between his feet. The warrior's eyes widened when he noticed Wukong and his grip on the door handle tightened. The King pushed the basket in his face before he could close the door. 

“H-here!” Squeaked Sun Wukong, embarrassed by how his own voice wavered. Macaque blinked, probably caught off guard by the basket thrown in his face, and lowered Sun Wukong's hand, softly taking the basket form the sage. “Can we talk?” hopefully asked the sage, he tried to not sound too desperate, but the edge in his voice probably betrayed him, Macaque face softened when he heard it. The warrior looked back and forth between the basket filled with mangoes and Sun Wukong for a few seconds before stepping aside, allowing the sage to enter. 

Sun Wukong walked in stiff as a piece of wood, he awkwardly stood in the room's heart not knowing where to sit, or if he was even allowed to sit. Macaque closed the door and put the basket on the table by the window, the sun glided on the mangoes, embracing them lovingly. Then, Macaque turned towards him, arms crossed on his chest and gaze lowered on his feet. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Asked the warrior after a few minutes of excruciating silence. Sun Wukong put himself together and tied his tail to his ankle. 

“I… about the whole you destroying your seat thing…” Clarified the sage with fleeting eyes, Macaque flinched, tail swinging nervously at his feet.

“I…it’s nothing… just something I have to work on.” Sighed the warrior, obviously trying to brush the subject aside. Sun Wukong bit his lips, hesitating, wondering if pushing Macaque for an answer was the right thing to do. Sandy told him to not force Macaque and the sage knew he shouldn’t corner the other, yet he felt that if he let it go now, it would never be addressed again.

“I’m… I just wanna hear you. I-I know you’re upset, I think I know why but I… I don’t want to make any assumptions.” Because this is what tore them apart in the first place, putting words in the other mouth, not addressing anything as if ignoring the issues could make them disappear. They both decided to not do this again, to confront what festered between them before it could rot. Macaque flinched, he looked up at the sage, gaze softening ever so slightly.

“It’s… it’s dumb, really. Small.” Muttered the warrior.

“Still I want to hear it.” Replied the sage with an unwavering gaze. Macaque sighed, he sat on the edge of his bed and patted his left side, Sun Wukong immediately sat beside him, close enough to sense the other warmth but not to touch him. They both stayed quiet for a bit, not knowing where to begin. Sun Wukong thought of Sandy, of how the tea-lover would usually ease them in the talk. It often begins with a question, something small, that didn’t hold any accusations. He could do that, he could do small, harmless questions about Macaque’s feelings. Sun Wukong took a deep breath and stilled himself. “Were you jealous?” Macaque’s tail thumped angrily, leaving its mark on the sheets, and Sun Wukong berated himself, this wasn’t a small question. He immediately tried to backpedal. “I-I mean… nothing wrong there! Jealousy is a very… hm… natural thing that people do ? I get jealous all the time, no big deal…Not that you had any reason to be jealous, because, you know, I don’t care about that woman… like she can keep trying but I’m not… You’re my… actually I don’t really know what I can call you right now but, you know… you’re like the guy I kiss sometimes ?” Macaque tail lashed even more and he narrowed his eyes at him, Sun Wukong felt a cold sweat glide over his temples. “You’re more ! Obviously ! You’re more than the guy I kiss, like you’re above the kissing guy, if there is any hierarchy if I kissed other guys ??” Macaque growled at that, fangs brushing his lower lips. “I DON'T KISS OTHER PEOPLE !! You’re the only one I kiss…and I… should I just kill the woman ?” Asked the great sage in a desperate attempt to appease the fuming warrior beside him. 

“I’m gonna ignore that for now.” Sighed Macaque, tail still lashing behind him, Sun Wukong only nodded like a fool, not daring to talk anymore. “Concerning what happened, I guess… I was jealous.” The sage wanted to laugh at the “I guess”, because it was more of an evidence than a guess, but he wasn't brave enough to confront Macaque on that right now.

“Did I upset you?” Asked the sage. He could understand jealousy, he felt jealous plenty of times before, but what the warrior showed seemed more than just plain jealousy. Sun Wukong knew Macaque character. His moon wasn't the type to be consumed by his feelings, he was emotionally driven at times, of course, but he was usually more quiet, not one to destroy his seat in a jealousy fit. No. This was deeper. There was something more, something that has been festering inside of his warrior. 

“... It's just…I know you… flirted with your enemies before, I've read Journey to the west…but hearing you talk about it like that…” Macaque sighed, claws clutching his own arms, hiding himself from the world. “You… you never flirted with me like that.” Quietly admitted the warrior, voice at the edge of breaking apart. It pierced the King's chest, how frail the other sounded right now. He wanted nothing more than to scoop the shadow in his arms and curl around him forever, comforting him with every drop of softness still residing in his dried up heart. Macaque didn't need to say more, Sun Wukong heard enough to grasp what really bothered him. 

It was uncertainty. The doubts about their obscure relationship, the line they constantly towed without putting any words on it, not because they didn't want to, but because they decided to wait. Macaque heard him boast about his flirts, and doubted about the love the sage held for him, because the sage never flirted with him like that. It was perhaps selfish, but a part of him was elated that Macaque was bothered by the uncertainty, that he wasn't alone fretting about what they were, what they could do and couldn't as of now. Unfortunately, Sun Wukong didn't know what to do to ease both of their hearts while they were on this journey, the only thing he could do for now was to reassure the macaque and explain why he never tried flirting with him like that (as embarrassing as it was). 

“I… It’s not that I don’t want to be more bold with you… It's just… I can't.” Mumbled the King with heated cheeks. “I'm a mess around you… I can't be smooth… I just… I forgot everything when I look at you. And you're not like the others, I don't want to… play you like I play them.”

“O-oh…that's… I didn't think of it like that.”

“Yeah, embarrassing, I know.” Awkwardly chuckled the sage as he played with the tip of his claws. 

“Hey, I'm a mess around you too.” Replied Macaque as he bumped their shoulders together. Sun Wukong looked at him, breath held in his throat when he noticed his moon softened gaze. 

“Can't blame you, I'm irresistible.” Laughed the King, trying to hide his flushed cheeks with a cocky smile. Macaque rolled his eyes and pushed the sage away. 

“You can't be serious for two seconds.” Snorted the warrior. 

“I can be very serious!” Gasped the sage, greatly offended. “Look, this is my serious face.” Sun Wukong crossed his arms and lifted his chin, making a silly face on purpose. Macaque barked a laugh, bright and harsh, eyes crooked like moon crescents. 

“You look like a hamster!” Roared the warrior as he clutched his stomach. 

“I do not, lie and slander!” 

“Aw, the wittle hamster is angry!” Sun Wukong tried to cease the other's laughter, gently fighting him to stop his snickers from spilling outside of his lips. They eventually stumbled on the bed, tangled together, both still play fighting with each other. Sun Wukong was trying to silence the other very offending laughters with his paws, softly pawing the warrior's face to cover his mouth. Macaque, obviously, wasn't letting him do as he pleased and was pushing his hands away while still laughing to his heart content. The sage was pierced by a bout of nostalgia as he fighted with his moon, this was something they did a lot in their younger days. Stumbling in the sun-drenched grass together while trying to pounce on the other and claim victory. Of course, they were a lot gentler now, both afraid of hurting the other. Still, it warmed the sage's heart to be able to do this sort of thing again. Macaque emerged victorious from their play, landing on top of the sage with a smug smirk etched on his lips. 

“I let you win.” Huffed the sage with crossed arms. 

“Being a sore loser doesn't suit you, peaches.” The nickname stumbled on the warrior's lips with an aching familiarity, Sun Wukong stiffened when he heard it, heart leaping out of his chest. He also felt the warrior tense, probably realizing what he just said. 

“I-I'm not being a sore loser, it j-just the truth, m-mangoes.” It was incredibly awkward, but at least it appeased the warrior's stiff stance. Macaque left the sage's lap and sat beside him. 

“You think maybe we should talk to Sandy about this… relationship of ours?” Asked the King, partially because he needed to change the subject after Macaque's slip of tongue (“peaches” was still echoing in his ears, never leaving him) but also because he thought Sandy could help them with what they were navigating through. Sun Wukong was glad he managed to talk with Macaque without any help this time, but he knew very well his own limits, and he wasn't sure he could solve what was bothering them on his own. “I'm sure he wouldn't say anything to anyone if we told him to keep it a secret.”

“Yeah…maybe we could ask for advice.” Agreed the warrior. “It's been a long time since we did any therapy sessions together by the way.”

“Yeah… Actually I haven't had another solo session since the first, what about you ? You said you wanted to do one, no?”

“Yeah, I might do it after we leave this place.” They both stood in a peaceful silence, neither wanting to leave this moment. Sun Wukong looked up at Macaque, who was sitting beside his head, leaning on the bed head. He looked peaceful, no longer crushed by the weight of his anger, tail flickering lazily on the bed sheet. Sun Wukong shuddered when the ebony tail brushed against his ribs, he grazed it with his claws and, seeing that Macaque didn't didn't do anything to stop him, he began to groom it. It was nostalgic to feel Macaque's fur glide over his fingers. Macaque's tail had always been longer and slicker than his, while his own fur tended to curl in a tangled mess, Macaque's was straight and thinner, thus it didn't have nearly as many knots as his. Yet Sun Wukong didn't stop grooming it, enjoying the way the tip of the tail curled around his wrist in a show of quiet affection. 

They eventually rose from the bed when they heard the others came back, they both awkwardly coughed to hide the smiles biting their lips and left the room with the tip of their tails intertwined. The kids brightly smiled the second they spotted them, giggling at their intertwined tails, both monkeys flushed a bit and took a step back from each other. 

“Oh, oh, oh, you both made up!” Snorted the dragon girl. 

“Monkey King, did you invite Mac on a date like we told you!?” Eagerly asked his mentee. 

“What date–” Sun Wukong cut the warrior before he could end his sentence. 

“Nothing! Nothing! It's… late, isn't it?? You all must be angry!!” It was in fact not late at all, but he silenced the kids with a glare and dared the others to say anything about it with an angry flick of tail. 

The rest of the day was spent comfortably, both monkeys silently agreed that they would talk with Sandy another time, both already emotionally drained by the day's feelings. After a well-deserved dinner the sage returned to the ship with Sandy, not wanting to sleep without his lil bud (and Macaque's scar). 

“So how did this first trial go?” Asked one of his clones as the sage retreated to his room (and admittedly Macaque's). Sun Wukong hesitated a little, not wanting to cause a riot, he knew how intense his own clones could be. But he also knew they would learn what happened even if he tried to hide it from them, they had their ways. 

“Well…hm…there was a woman. A huli jing. She kinda flirted with me? Macaque didn't like that…” Awkwardly explained the sage as he changed clothes, slipping in his pajamas. 

“... So is Macaque angry at you?” Asked one of the clones while petting Sock, who was purring happily on said clone's lap. 

“Honestly, an angry Mac sounds hot.” Chimed another clone with a dreamy sigh, the third one hit the dreamy clone before he could say more. 

“We talked. It's fine now… We agreed to ask Sandy for advice.” Replied Sun Wukong, ignoring the dreamy clone input, even if it wasn't untrue. 

“Wise choice, Sandy has the best advice.” 

“True, nothing happened to Sock while I was gone?” Asked Sun Wukong with narrowed eyes, he crouched in front of his lil lady and cooed lovingly at her. 

“Nope! We protected her with our lives, boss!” 

“A seagull tried to bother her but we took care of it.” Added the clone with Sock on his lap, a proud look on his face. 

“Good.” Purred the sage as he scratched under his lil lady chin. 

“But Boss, I think you should keep your distance from the huli jing!” Chimed one clone with fire in his eyes. 

“Yeah, as hot as angry Mac sounds, it'll be bad if he's really mad. Plus, the huli jing probably flirted because she wanted to win your favor and win the festival.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sighed the King. “Also… Mac may have called me peaches…”

“Oh my Gods! Why didn't you begin with that!!” Squealed one clone. 

“Damn, that nickname really brought us back.”

“Good old days. Remember the first time he called us that? We pretended everything was fine in front of him, but then we were unable to hold our excitement and accidently broke several trees.” Cackled one of the clones, Sun Wukong chuckled at the fond memory, he took Sock and gently placed her on the bed, curling around her lovingly. 

“Mac looked good then, with his white fur and all!” Added another clone with a wagging tail. 

“Yeah! He looked like a lil moon rabbit, it was adorable!”Squealed a clone. 

“I think the back fur looks good too though. It's like the night sky, plus it looks very sex-” 

“Oh my Gods, is that all you're thinking about?” Complained Sun Wukong with flushed cheeks.

“I'm you, Boss, so it's on you. And it's not like we never thought about him this way. I remember a very embarrassing period in our younger days~”

“Gods, puberty was a mess. We're lucky Mac never noticed anything.” Agreed another clone. 

“OK, I don't want to talk about that. Let's call it a night, boys.” The clones whined but heeded his orders anyway, Sun Wukong didn't poof them (only because they swore they wouldn't cause any problems) and let them gossip about Macaque freely outside of his room. 

He left Sock in the clones’ care the morning after and rushed to the palace. The second trial took place rather early in the day, they all headed to the arena, now a little more familiar with the grounds, once again all clothed in black. The eagle explained the rules once the tribunes were filled, this time Sun Wukong spotted Macaque and the others, waving at them shyly from afar (he was elated to spot Macaque waving back). 

The second trial was rather simple, it was a test of wit, more precisely of military strategy. They prepared a war simulation on a screen elavated above the arena (a wonder of modern technology). Each contestant had to vocally control their own armies, moving them at their wills, to win they only had to crush the others armies. While Sun Wukong wasn't used to lead an army, he did have a good grasp of the battlefield, he wasn't worried about the outcome. 

“I hope you go easy on me, handsome~” Chuckled the huli jing while they all sat around a table, in the heart of the arena, where a more decent size screen was put (one more fitted for them). 

“My heart already belongs to another.” Replied the sage without an ounce of doubt, the other contestant (the red masked person) chuckled at his cutting reply while the huli jing eyebrows twitched angrily. Monkey King paid them no mind and glanced at Macaque, using his golden eyes to see his reaction, the Six-eared warrior was blushing, his tail swaying happily behind him. 

“Oh I don't worry about this sort of things, sweetheart. I'm a master when it comes to stealing hearts.” Snorted the woman, the sage gulped and glanced once more at his moon, Macaque was smiling (a hint of a fang on his lips). His eyes promised pain. 

Truly this woman was courting death. 

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[d-lanx]

New WWE AU Idea: Newscaster AU

Ok, I need to put this down somewhere before it drives me insane. It's a stupidly niche AU idea but it's taking up so much brain power for me right now for some reason. It's a journalist AU where the WWE is a TV news channel. Details below the cut.

But basically I've been thinking about all the people who've been running the PLE pre & post shows & hosting PLEs this year a lot. And with the whole news-style interviews and sitting around on sets that often look like news studios, what if they were all actual reporters in a news channel? It's a bit of a weird one I know, but it's been rolling around in my head all weekend.

Btw I have no idea if USA news channels call their emplyees the same sort of titles as we have in the UK so excuse me if the job titles are a bit scuffed. But basically here's all the roles they have, why I chose those roles for them (in brackets), and what they get up to as part of this AU news channel:

Michael Cole: Senior Newsreader- (Because of his commentary work and journalism background). Out of all the people currently regularly on TV, he's been there the longest and is highly respected. Always trusted to keep a level head in times where the world feels like it's gone to hell.

Corey Graves: Business Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marketing). Feel like he'd do a segment kinda like "The Martin Lewis Money Show" we have in the UK, where he goes through government changes to finance-related stuff, explains it and how it'll affect the average person, and then answers questions from a live studio audience and gives them advice.

Wade Barrett: Environmental Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marine biology). I get the vibe his favourite animals are tiny and obscure things like a specific type of sea pickle on the verge of extinction or something and he defends them aggressively to get people to help save the species. Has memorised his evidence for global warming and can reel it off with ease, but is sick of having to do it so much cos people STILL DON'T BELIEVE IN IT????????

Pat McAfee: Sports Correspondent- (Do I even need to explain why? He's a mad man and I can't imagine him doing anything else, even out of a whole cast of people on a sports show like WWE). Feel like most people try to keep somewhat calm and professional on a news show, but he's just himself the whole way through, making him one of the most popular reporters on the whole channel because people want to see his OTT reactions to certain events. Feel like he'd also probably be in charge of the news station's radio show, too, what with how he has the Pat McAfee Show in real life.

Big E Langston: Political Correspondent- (He just gives me that vibe being all analytical about wrestling feuds). He's just as tired with politicians' nonsense as we all are, to the point it's hard to hide his dissappointment when they say something stupid and he has to remain unbiased. Never lets politicians get away with evasive answers when he interviews them, but smiles the whole time as he makes them wish they were never born.

CM Punk: War Correspondent- (The man is always scrapping for the love of the game, so of course he'd be in the centre of a war). He's had bombs dropped on his head more times than he can count and regularly goes for runs as a workout to make sure he's still fit enough to run for his life when he's in active warzones. Can tell you all about the complex international relations and battle strategies but secretly has a morbid interest in death & gore which is what actually got him into the job. Once got shot on live television, showed off the wound on camera and finished his broadcast before getting medical treatment. Was only mildly miffed about nearly dying, mostly excited by the whole experience.

Jackie Redmond: Justice Correspondent- (Basically her analyst role in WWE gives me the vibe of someone discussing a crime case). Can tell you all about how 17 people have been skinned alive and cannibalised in graphic detail so casually as if she's talking about the weather. At this point in her career, pretty much nothing can phase her. So if something actually manages to leave her speechless, you know it's bad.

Cathy Kelley: General Reporter- (Basically cos it's just what she's doing in WWE). Going wherever she needs to be to interview people and get to the bottom of a story. Has interviewed some really dangerous people that are twice her size all in the name of finding a good story and everyone's just like "for the love of god please think about ur own safety for once."

The Miz: Media Correspondent- (Cos of his reality TV background and generally over the top vibes). He'd be all over red carpet events and he's definitely still hoping to use his media journalism as some leverage to get into show-business himself. Celebs see him at events and pray they haven't been spotted so they don't have to talk to him, cos he can be a lot. But this little bastard has the eyes of a hawk and will hunt them down. Especially if he's persoanlly a big fan of them and their work.

R-Truth: Weatherman- (Cos he's a ray of sunshine :) ) Just imagine the batshit insanity of him telling people about a storm or how nice the weather's gonna be or something (I'm thinking like a Bob Hale skit on the original Horrible Histories, that kind of madness).

Sheamus: Tech Correspondent- (Cos he's a former IT technician so he can be all brainy). Constantly treated like IT support rather than a journalist and is sick of having to switch on servers people promised were already on, and listening to people with no idea what they're talking about prattle on about the benefits of AI. But at least he gets to talk about flying cars and robot dogs all day and muck about with new tech for a living.

Triple H: Editor In Chief- (Basically the top role in journalism to match with his current role in real life). Running things is like trying to herd cats, but hey, he can put on a pretty damn good show. Trying desperately to move on from the scandals of the days when the previous editor-in-chief was in charge of things.

Obviously some of them wouldn't be able to use their ring names in those environments. Plus I'm probably forgetting some people who should be in this AU that have been involved in pre/post shows, hosting, and commentary, but my brain's a bit too frazzled to go thru all the PLEs right now.

But like... come on... look at them and just imagine for a second... do you see the vision???? Or have I finally gone a bit mad??

LIKE JUST LOOK AT THEM!!

Also it gives me even more reasons to think about punk in suits <3

Also also if he were a war correspondent and had to go out into dangerous places, they'd make him wear gear which means more of this. vvv

Also CM Punk & Big E Langston are the two people I'm blaming for putting this AU in my head just so you know. Cos look at them!!

But also since punkintyre died, I've been reliving my sheamus/punk shipping days and just imagine sheamus waiting for his husband to come back from reporting in an active warzone and being worried for his safety (especially if he's been hurt before [whump time?]). And then all the excitement and relief when he gets back and giving each other special attention cos they were both so stressed and now they're just so happy to see each other again.

Also imagine Punk being inept with technology and needing help from tech savvy husband who's so proud that punk's finally learnt how to attach a file in an email. Punk probably sends Sheamus facebook minions memes and Sheamus despairs.

And then Punk excitedley explains all about battle strategies and war history and Sheamus excitedley explains back about the complexities of designing a self driving car or some shit. They're both just being massive nerds together. Even better when their interests overlap, like the design of tanks or something. Feel like they'd be talking for hours and everyone is like "guys come on, we have a show to run" but they're too busy with their hyperfixations (autistic sheapunk anyone? [is that what the ship name is??]).

Just think of the shipping potential!!

And this whole countdown show also was major inspo cos to me it just looks so much like a news show.

And these three just give me the vibe that E (being a political correspondent) would obviously be doing a show for the elections. And since law and war are both very close to politics, he'd get punk and jackie in to keep him company and the three would do an overnight show reporting on election results as they come in, chatting shit the entire time.

Btw I still don't know what this all means for the other WWE wrestlers. Defeats the point of using commentators and hosts if I also have all the wrestlers also being journalists. So maybe they can be the people featured in the news. All having "normal" jobs like politicians and military and scientists and shit. And these guys can be reporting on their nonsense and bullying them in interviews.

I feel like I could add more people to it, like having ring announcers as general news readers, and Shawn Michaels, Adam Pearce and Nick Aldis as editors or something. And I'm probably forgetting other people who hosted PLEs or were presenters on pre/post shows, and other commentators. So there'll be plenty more that could be added.

Sorry about the info dump but I needed to put this somewhere. I'm not the only one seeing the vision on this am I????

[catenary-chad]

in defense of “diva Electra”

I get the criticisms of this take on the character of being the total opposite of anything the original workshop character was or “sassy drag queen” being a tropey and superficial direction. In any other show/media I’d probably even side with them. But with real-life train context, I actually really like this take on the character and imo it’s only become MORE accurate and relevant since the 2000s. It’s actually kind of amazing how well it fits modern US rail/transit fans (and to some degree international ones) into trains like Electra since there’s no way that was actually intended. I think if there was a revival anywhere in the northeast US, locals would go nuts for this kind of take on Electra vs something more loyal to the original because it fills such a niche among talking trains and just captures the spirit of electric/transit aligned railfans vs people just into boomer trains, and it makes a great counter to Greaseball because of that. So here’s my elaboration on why I like many of their traits:

Sassy and confrontational but affectionate-

hah, this is actually a pretty accurate description of a transit group I know irl. That sphere is notoriously argumentative and outspoken in general and endlessly snarky, it’s a mix of being vindictive about being politically screwed over for years and skewing heavily towards the northeastern US (which is broadly known for being loud, confrontational, often kind of aggressive and constantly dropping one-liners). But they’re actively not gatekeepers and more evangelistic than anything, they really want you to know and care about transit and electrification politics and the group I’m in is really proactive about including people.

This take on Electra specifically reminds me of one guy I know who kind of goes over the top making fun of/reacting to things. Who is also the ELECTRIFY EVERYTHING type and also very friendly and outgoing. It’s a very appropriate personality to give an electric train that’s vaguely Amtrak-coded. You can even it give it more depth in that they might act that way to make up for otherwise poor social skills or to get points across, or that they’re a squeaky wheel because electric train problems are often so overlooked but also dismissed as whiny.

aggressively lgbt-

it’s lowkey a stereotype that electric/modern/transit oriented railfans skew VERY gay and that’s just plain true in my experience. It’s generally a very liberal, urban interest and that leads to it being a very diverse sphere overall.

over the top sparkly and showy-

it’s easy to just make Electra vain and extravagant but I think it’s way more interesting to make this a deliberate PR move the way actual train systems will. Shiny sells and makes things more attractive to the public, I mentioned it in a previous post but even wild failures like the McGinnis-era New Haven Railroad have stuck around in public view because they had bold and striking visual designs and liveries. Electric trains are seen as a pretty mundane thing by a lot of people, their full advantages aren’t that well understood by the masses, and they don’t get much media glamorization compared to steam or diesel counterparts. Being bright and striking (and perhaps even overly focused on being clean because that’s a problem transit systems face) would actually be kind of a survival strategy for Electra with how much electrification has been sidelined or even reversed in the Anglophone world (and Americas in general) where they NEED to fight for appeal and relevance

[spitinsideme]

Here's some food

zora salazar, magik, catra, any of the women from stardew valley, cait

IM.NOT BEKNG FED !!!! THWAE ARSNT MY TYOE AT ALL !!! i love all women sure as a lesbian yeah whatever but thats gene4al lobe fkr my fellow women, but my AWOOHA !!! WOAHH !!! ORHASGM MOANKNG LICKING MY LIPS BLUSHING GIGGLING EYES POPPING OUT OF MY HEAD LOVE HWARTS AROUND ME women are in fact FAT FEMMES !!!!! FAT FEMININE WOMEN !!!

and i need everytone tk know, i need this to be knkwn,.whwne k say fat i mean FAT, i mena tummy not poking out, but FULLY out, i sont mwan the generic bjg thighs bjg tirs and thats it i dont mean chubbh j mean FAT, give me a woman like ursula, i want double chin big arms gkve me a stomach thats visible in all outfits i want to see it i want it giving shelter to the oussy becayse good pussy deserves shelter bscause the way im going to be squirting just at the sighr theyll need an emergenxy alarm theyll need a flood protocol gkve that oussy a shelter with stable walls to keep it up none of you undeeatand i want huge i want my girl big i want her 100kh and OVER noene of you get kt ... like actually none of you understand me ..... i want my girl with strecth marks big legs big arms big everyrhing i aant her AHHHHB AHHH !!! GIVEMEGKVEMEGKVEME !!!! k want her tk wear low rise jeans and have the tummy right fucking out i wnt it right fucking OUTi want those hio dips on DISPLAY give me the fat that wil be peeking out on the sides from her trousees gkve me all of it every single inch like ... gos .... ohnygod ... jesudd ... ughhh .... i want her to have all that .. everyrhing .... dlnt ger me started on double chins ...... guys . guys .. eveeyone .. do you all undersyand me . do you get me

i want her tk sjt on my face and i get crushed and i want to esr hee kut sk good so amaizngly with her fat pussy and with one buxk of her hips into my face my jaw wkll brek and there will be internal spinal decapitiation thats howgood im going tk amke her feel bwcause thats how tuened on il be . our main sex position will be cowggiel and thats ourely bwcause j crave to see ir all jiggle and havw a seat inf jrst class i wa t to be front row vip get the full experience im goinh to clwan my glasses and put then on for this sex posirion becahse thats how clear i want to see everyrhing i want her to ride mh strap like her pussy is clinfing onto kt fkr dealr life and i want to see hee ride back and forth like we are going intl war with horses and we are galloping fkr orur dear life and holding on as safwty gear for horseriding hadnt been invented jr i want her tk ride me on top my ribs will be crushed by the way like my best case scenaeio my ribs are crushed or the belocoty of her riding will leave friction burns kn mh skin and ill get firsr degree burns we are playong red dead redemption 2 and i am the horse qhos about to get shot but the only shot that will be shot is me shooting my pussy juicwa duw to the arousal i feel do you all even undertand me . dk i make mswlf clear bwcause i feel like i have not made mysf clear enlufh

i love fat femmes i love fat women who dress femininely whl dress girly who wear little bows and skiera ad dresses and cute little jumpers and shirts and knee high socks with frills i love fat women whk dress feminnine in case no lne knwew enlfh already

[ajani]

I don't like to admit this necessarily but my initial reaction to learning about plurality a while ago was something of an "alriiiight if you say so" and to go along with it. This post is aimed at people who are in that space, I guess "skeptics". To me the biggest challenge to this has been attempting to do it intentionally, and now I understand that this kneejerk reaction to not believe people's experiences was just kinda a dick move, as it usually is!

I've tried to facilitate alters in part because I have felt some understanding of parts of what systems talk about their experiences (ex: referring to the self as "we", having internal arguments with different "voices", feeling like you are a different person based on the context you're in), but like. I couldn't. I attempted to force my way into this model and make it fit, but it simply didn't work for me. Even using psychedelics only allowed a brief experience of feeling like there was truly another person here.

Some would take this as evidence in support of it being fake or some sort of self induced delusion. However, as someone who was amenable to the idea, found the idea relatable and useful, I couldn't ever understand the experience or replicate it long term. To me, this suggests that the experiences that I have heard plenty of people talk about from across a variety of backgrounds with a degree of consistency, is something that is difficult to fake or force yourself into. It isn't a trendy thing or whatever, it's something that people experience and by meeting other people who are like them may come to understand something about themselves.

To me, this is pretty strong support that this is something I simply don't have access to and can't understand outright. But, to me this suggests a truth to the experiences of plural people.

This is to say, as a former 'respecting skeptic', please be more considerate about systems. Don't condescend. Just because you don't understand someone's experiences doesn't mean they're not real. Listen to plural people and like actually think about it. They can explain it better than I can, you just have to be willing to listen. They get a lot of shit that is undeserved and I suspect there's a number of people who are in the same space I was of not really giving it the deserved consideration and respect.

Also lastly to systems, I love y'all and hope the best for y'all.

[mithliya]

This may sound stupid but I promise I'm asking this in 100% good faith and genuine curiosity. If a lesbian is attracted to a transwoman under the impression that they are female, how does learning that they're male change things?

There are some transwomen who pass so well that I genuinely have no idea they're male unless they explicitly say so. I'm a lesbian, and if I were attracted to one of these individuals I would probably lose that attraction once I find out the truth, but why is that?? (It's pretty obvious why if they have a penis, but for the sake of this scenario let's say this hypothetical transwoman has vaginoplasty) I've never seen a neovagina so idk whether they look like the real thing or not, but if they do this whole thing just makes even less sense to me. If someone looks and sounds like a woman I'd be attracted to, with the only physical differences being a lack of internal sex organs and probably slightly off-looking genitalia, why am I suddenly completely unattracted when I find out they're not a woman?? Is it bc of male socialization?? Or do the slightly different-looking genitals make THAT much of a difference???

Once again I am a lesbian I'm not saying that lesbians can or should be attracted to transwomen, I just find human sexuality confusing. This is probably a better question to ask a sexologist or psychologist instead of random tumblr users but whatever.

i have a degree in psychology n im doing my second rn 👍🏾 but i don’t think asking a psychologist or perhaps even sexologist will give u much because research into sexuality is pretty far behind and saturated with bias. in fact the most prominent research you’ll find will be arguing that lesbianism basically does not exist so it’s not like they’d explain the phenomenon ur describing.

anyways, i think it’s the same mechanism as when u might see a guy from afar, think he’s a woman, have interest in him as a result, but lose interest when he comes closer and u realise he’s not a woman. your perceptions are frequently updated to match ur reality (unless there’s dysfunction) so you might think someone is of the same sex & therefore have some interest but finding out they aren’t will remove that internet. vaginiplasty does not actually change someone’s sex nor does it magically result in an actual vulva so i don’t think that’s relevant. if it was purely about genitals then perhaps we would only be attracted to someone when actively seeing them naked.

also i think the awareness that ur actually quite different in terms of reality & experiences can play a role as well

[a-tohmic]

Social Media Is Not Self-Expression

by Rob Horning, 2014

1. Subjectivation is not a flowering of autonomy and freedom; it's the end product of procedures that train an individual in compliance and docility. One accepts structuring codes in exchange for an internal psychic coherence. Becoming yourself is not a growth process but a surrender of possibilities that we learn to regard as egregious, unbecoming. "Being yourself" is inherently limiting. It is liberatory only in the sense of freeing one temporarily from existential doubts. (Not a small thing!) So the social order is protected not by preventing "self-expression" and identity formation but encouraging it as a way of forcing people to limit and discipline themselves — to take responsibility for building and cleaning their own cage. Thus, the dissemination of social-media platforms becomes a flexible tool for social control. The more that individuals express through these codified, networked, formatted means to construct a "personal brand" identity, the more they self-assimilate, adopting the incentive structures of capitalist social order as their own. (The machinations of Big Data make this more obvious. The more data you supply, the more the algorithms can determine your reality.) Expunge the seriality built into these platforms, embrace a more radical form of difference.

2. In an essay about PJ Harvey's 4-Track Demos, Michael Barthel writes:

While she was able to hole up in a seaside restaurant and produce a masterpiece, I need constant feedback and encouragement in order not to end up curled in some dark corner of my house, eating potato chips and refreshing my Tumblr feed in the hope that someone will have “liked” my Photoshopped picture of Kanye West in a balloon chair.

He's being a bit facetious, but this is basically what I'm trying to get at above: the difference between an inner-directed process of discovery and a kind of outer-directed pseudo-creativity that in its pursuit of attention gets overwhelmed by desperation. I'm trading in a very dubious kind of dichotomizing here, I know — artists make a lot of great work for no greater purpose than attention-seeking, and the idea that anything is truly "inner-directed" may be a ideological illusion, given how we all develop interiority in relation to a social world that precedes us and enables us to survive. But what I am trying to emphasize here is how production in social media is often sold to users of these platforms as self-expressive creativity, as self-discovery, as an elaboration of the self even, but it is really a narrowing of the self to the reductive, defensive aim of getting recognition, reassurance of one's own existence, that one belongs. That kind of "creativity" may crowd out the more antisocial kind that may entail reclusion, social disappearance, indifference to reputation and social capital, to being someone in particular in a network. Self-invention in social media that is perpetually in search of "feedback" is really just the production of communication, which gives value not to the self but to the network that gets to carry more data (and store it, and sell it).

Actual "self-invention" — if we are measuring it in range of expressivity — appears more like self-dissolution. We're born into social life and shaped by it; self-discovery may thus entail a destruction of social bonds, not a sounding of them.

Barthel lauds the "demos, experiments, collaborative public works, jokes, notes, reading lists, sketches, appreciations, outbursts of pique" that are "absolutely vital to continuing the business of creation." But the degree that these are all affixed to a personal brand when serially broadcast on social media depletes their vitality. If PJ Harvey released the demos as she made them to a Myspace page, would there ever have been a finished Rid of Me? Would the end product merely have been PJ Harvey, as the fecund musician?

Social media structure creative effort (e.g., Barthel's list above) ideologically as "self-creating," but they often end up as anxiety-inducing, exposing the self's ad hoc incompleteness while structuring the demand for a fawning audience to complete us, validate every effort, as a natural expectation. Validation is nice, but as a goal for creative effort, it is somewhat limited. The quest for validation must inevitably restrict itself to the tools of attracting attention: the blunt instruments of novelty and prurience  ("Kanye West in a balloon chair"). The self one tries to express tends to be new, exciting, confessional, sexy, etc., because it plays as an advertisement. Identity is a series of ads for a product that doesn't exist.

The process can't quell anxiety; this kind of self-expression can only intensify it, focus it onto a few social-media posts that await judgment, narrow it to the latest instances of sharing. Social media's quantifying metrics aggravate the problem, making expression into a series of discrete items to be counted, ranked. It serves as the infrastructure for a feedback loop that orients expression toward the anxiety of what the numbers will be and accelerates it, as we try to better those numbers, and thereby demonstrate that the self-monitoring is teaching us something about how to become more "relevant."

The alternative would seem to be a sort of deep focus in isolation, in which one accepts the incompleteness that comes from being apart from an audience, that comes from not seeking final judgment on what one is doing and letting it remain ambiguous, open-ended, of the present moment and not assimilated to an archive of identity. To put that tritely: The best way to be yourself is to not be anybody in particular but to just be.

3. So is the solution to get off the Internet? If social media structure social behavior this way, just don't use them, right? Problem solved. Paul Miller's 2013 account at the Verge of his year without Internet use suggests it's not so simple. Miller went searching for "meaning" offline, fearing that Internet use was reducing his attention span and preoccupying him with trivia. It turns out that, after a momentary shock of having his habits disrupted, Miller fell back into the same feelings of ambient discontent, only spiked with a more intense feeling of loneliness. It's hard to escape the idea of a "connected world" all around you, and there is no denying that being online metes out "connectedness" in measured, addictive doses. But those doses contain real sociality, and they are reshaping society collectively. Whether or not you use social media personally, your social being is affected by that reshaping. You don't get to leave all of society's preoccupations behind.

Facebook is possibly more in the foreground for those who don't use it than for those who have accepted it as social infrastructure. You have to expend more effort not knowing a meme than letting it pass through you. Social relations are not one-way; you can't dictate how they are on the basis of personal preference. As Miller puts it, describing his too-broad, too pointed defiance of the social norms around him, "I fell out of sync with the flow of life." Pretending you can avoid these social aspects of life because they are supposedly external, artificial, inauthentic, and unreal, is to have a very impoverished idea of reality, of authenticity, of unique selfhood.

The inescapable reciprocity of social relations comes into much sharper relief when you stop using social media, which thrive on the basis of the control over reciprocity they try to provide. They give a crypto-dashboard to social life, making it seem like a personal consumption experience, but that is always an illusion, always scattered by the anxiety of waiting, watching for responses, and by the whiplash alternation between omnipotence and vulnerability.

Miller's fable ends up offering the lesson that the digital and the physical are actually interpenetrated, and all the personal problems he recognizes in himself aren't a matter of technologically mediated social reality but are basically his fault. This seems too neat of a moral to this story. Nothing is better for protecting the status quo than convincing people that their problems are their own and are entirely their personal responsibility. This is basically how neoliberalism works: "personal responsibility" is elevated over the possibility of collective action, a reiteration of requirement to "express oneself" as an isolated self, free of social determination, free for "whatever."

What is odd is that the connectivity of the internet exacerbates that sort of neoliberal ideology rather than mitigating it. Connectivity atomizes rather than collectivizes. But that is because most people's experience of the internet is mediated by capitalist entities, or rather, for the sake of simplicity, by capitalism itself. You can go offline, but that doesn't remove you from the alienating properties of life in capitalist society. So the same "personal problems" the Internet supposedly made you experience still exist for you if you go offline, because you are still in a capitalist society. Capitalist imperatives are still shaping your subjectivity, structuring your time and your experience of curiosity, leisure, work, life. The internet is not the problem; capitalism is the problem.

Social media offer a single profile for our singular identity, but our consciousness comprises multiple forms of identity simultaneously: We are at once a unique bundle of sense impressions and memories, and a social individual imbued with a collectively constructed sense of value and possibility. Things like Facebook give the impression that these different, contestable and often contradictory identities (and their different contexts) can be conveniently flattened out, with users suddenly having more control and autonomy in their piloting through everyday life. That is not only what for-profit companies like Facebook want, but it is also what will feel natural to subjects already accustomed to capitalist values of convenience, capitalist imperatives for efficiency, and so on.

So Miller is right to note that "the internet isn't an individual pursuit, it's something we do with each other. The internet is where people are." That's part of why simply abandoning it won't enhance our sense of freedom or selfhood. But because we "do" the internet with each other as capitalist subjects, we use it to intensify the social relations familiar from capitalism, with all the asymmetries and exploitation that comes with it. We "do" it as isolated nodes, letting social-media services further suppress our sense of collectivity and possibility. The work of being online doesn't simply fatten profits for Facebook; it also reproduces the condition that make Facebook necessary. As Lazzarato puts it, immaterial "labour produces not only commodities, but first and foremost the capital relationship."

4. Exodus won't yield freedom. The problem is not that the online self is “inauthentic” and the offline self is real; it’s that the self derived from the data processing of our digital traces doesn’t correspond with our active efforts to shape an offline/online hybrid identity for our genuine social ties. What seems necessary instead is a way to augment our sense of "transindividuality," in which social being doesn't come at the expense of individuality. This might be a way out of the trap of capitalist subjectivity, and the compulsive need to keep serially producing in a condition of anxiety to seem to manifest and discover the self as some transcendent thing at once unfettered by and validated through social mediation. Instead of using social media to master the social component of our own identity, we must use them to better balance the multitudes within.

[lordelmelloi2]

I am kind of glad that I saw your take on the aztec stuff because a lot times people's extreme dislike of it has a habit warpping anything that comes in contact with it deeming all as the same You're like legit the first person who went, yeah these story are great, yeah there narratives are resonate to many people many times over, which makes these cases all the more furstating cause it gets in the way for all sakes purposes by painting the story in a certain light that it's impossible to get rid of.

And that something wholeheartly agree with. Type moon's greatest strength and weakness is it's purity and how it works in it's own internal clockwork. Almost every story is rarely anything phoned in and it's always one guy/gal trying really hard to express something and that such an important to the works. But at the same time it really shows that they don't consult anyone when things are running high which can result in some good and some bad which in seven with the some revealations latter down the line with some characters.

The fact that until relatively recently that they didn't know they had a national audience just shows there lacking self awareness and while everything recently shown they gotten better at it, it doesn't completely help when that eranest shows and it becomes 50/50 how it will turn out. In the end they only way I could see this is slove is someone making effort to expand the internal group with my various opinions but that's like making them actively aware of said issuse of literal brainrot they get.

Yup and that's one of the things that drives me kind of crazy too is like, now they're aware of this massive international audience for their works, people from all corners of the earth and different cultures, and people who like the series who also are like... well, not so embroiled in this anime-manga-otaku culture who Don't think it's right to, for instance, whitewash cultural figures, or include figures from cultures/mythos that Aren't supposed to be depicted (i.e. Wandjina), or understand that constant sexualization of minors is a No-Go in like The Majority Of The World, etc.... and Type Moon is always going to focus itself in on its Otaku market in Japan. So it's always going to try to be appealing to that market demographic first, even if it gives crumbs to, like, female otaku at times.

Which SUCKSSSSS!!! BECAUSE THEY'RE AWAREEEEEEE!!!! OF THE WAY THESE STORIES RESONATE WITH PEOPLE OUTSIDE OF THOSE DEMOGRAPHICSSSS!! AND SOMETIMES EVEN THE AUTHORS WILL *WRITE STORIES* THAT HAVE THAT SORT OF MEANING, THAT HAVE THAT SORT OF CONNECTION, THAT GIVE EMPATHY AND COMPASSION TO PEOPLE OF HISTORICALLY OPPRESSED GROUPS... BUT LIKE MANY GACHA THEY'LL ALWAYS BE FOCUSING IN ON THE MALE OTAKU'S WALLET FIRST. And especially when the writing is introducing a lot of cool ideas to explore within a variety of cultures and kind of also exploring how heroes and legends and mythological figures of other cultures may even learn and benefit from knowing each other, and this idea also that like these figures can reconcile with each other even (i.e. like how the Indian Hindu figures have reconciled with each other to a great degree, I think that's a fantastic story idea, especially because they talked and touched on how in the focus of saving greater humanity, there is this sense of -- I think it actually might've been Hector who said it, or something like it -- "if you continue these grudges from when you were alive and don't reconcile, you lose the only family you've got in this place". And it's that suggestion that also family and those you should care about are also people who have been through these same time periods, these same experiences, etc. Chaldea as a story's thesis insists that we need to build community, and focus on communities, and work towards the common goal of saving our planet.

Which, if you're a fan of the Fate series, you'll see them drop political references to socialism and communism and class disparity being an issue -- I mean the political storyline of Case Files alone also focuses in on class disparity being a massive issue as a whole for many people for many reasons -- it generally leans pretty left, and the overall themes and messages it tries to bring forward, that building community and being strong as a community and allowing us to learn from other cultures and perspectives and work towards a greater goal of saving humanity -- that's a message that quite a lot of us really really want to be hearing right now! It's a powerful message that I would argue is probably one of the most motivating factors people can have for continuing to engage with Fate series as a whole. Because so much of this story revolves around that central thesis, of treasuring humanity despite its flaws, and working to preserve humanity and restore it -- in this time of climate crisis, mass government corruption, genocides, etc. -- it's a message that a lot of people hold very dear to their hearts. I'm not saying FGO intrinsically motivates people to lean left, you have to have a brain to be able to understand that and a lot of people just don't engage with FGO's story like that, especially with the added layer of Gacha psychosis manipulation which is their primary way of making money asides from merchandise (another one of FGO's contradictory practices). But FGO does encourage people to look at other cultures and other peoples with empathy and understanding. It encourages you to learn about history, to learn about these historical figures, why they did what they did, what impact they had on society. If nothing else Fate series succeeds at encouraging people to learn about history and culture, and you don't have to have a Ph.D to see the ways that people have gotten involved more after learning about figures through FGO.

That's exactly why I think it's so difficult for people to just up and walk away from it. Because even if FGO mishandles it, it still opens up that opportunity for people to learn about it. Quite frankly -- I'm not saying it's good that FGO implemented Wandjina, for instance, but without that implementation, people in this fan space wouldn't also have been motivated to research and say "Hey, this is actually inaccurate, and not a great representation" and for us as fans that care also to share that information, and learn about Australian Aboriginal nations and their cultures, and why FGO fucked up so badly with this character implementation. Because we have this community of people who care about history and culture and mythos that we have built over the years. I think the fan spaces that are full of people who really care about the cultures that they come from being represented well, people who also are eager to talk about their cultures and histories and share it with others, or to praise when something IS represented well in Fate and given respect, is also another big reason why people don't leave Fate series. Because a lot of people really, really care. And the overall themes of Fate series encourage people to care about history, and culture, and to share it with people, and to educate people and get people engaged with their cultures, through these characters -- whether well-represented or not. I see it all the time with people making jokes about like, Tlaloc is literally Mexico City/Tenochtitlan, what does that mean for her in modern times? Oh, her and Tezcatlipoca are having Modelos with us, etc. Or people sometimes make jokes and posts about Hassans celebrating Ramadan or Eid-al-Fitr, and while I don't enjoy the way the female Hassans especially have been depicted, I think it's still fun to show people, hey, we are Muslim and we do this, here's Hassan picking out some sweets to have for early morning Suhoor.

Again, to reinforce -- I'll never denigrate someone or denounce someone leaving FGO because it depicted their culture poorly. There's many things that even I myself kind of have moments where I'm like, ... honestly the new Muslim character in Ordeal Call and the way people in certain corners of fate fan spaces treat him drives me up the fucking wall. Like that's an example of one way where I just feel like "yeah I just totally don't even want to engage with that at all, I'll redesign him probably, maybe if I'm lucky that redesign catches on," etc. You know what I mean? And I'll never denigrate anyone for leaving FGO because the gacha psychosis got too strong. I left FGO for like a year or so and played on-and-off because I spent a gazillion dollars on Waver and never got him, it took me a long ass time to get over that psychosis, and I even still have gacha psychosis issues with like, Kama, who I still haven't rolled to this day.

But I think it's pertinent to recognize why people don't totally denounce FGO in the capacity that other gacha games receive flak for. Fate is a very long running series, and the authors take Fate Grand Order to be another connected massive story in the run of all the other massive stories in Fate series. To be a long-time fate fan and ignore everything happening in FGO, and still have an understanding of the lore, of character development, etc... it's... just not possible. It's not possible to ignore FGO entirely in the grand scheme of being a Fate series fan who is engaged with the story and narratives. I think that if anything, because of these themes and narratives, we should be more demanding, we should ask for better effort, and we should point out issues where they arise, because Fate's themes already insist upon a higher standard -- and we, as fans that care, are the ones to hold them to it, as best as we can, and to do the best we can to insist upon better treatment.

[liminalhumanoid]

Anti-endos, don’t interact. Just block & keep scrolling.

Endo-friendly folks, hi! I’m new(ish) here and have some questions! Kind of a big post though so you’ve been warned lol.

I’m still somewhat new to viewing my internal experiences through a plural lens (or at least a plural-open-minded one) and I have some questions but don’t really have anyone to ask other than my boyfriend (who is also plural), but I feel awkward talking to him about it, at least for now. So, I’m writing here.

Like I said, I’m still in the early stages of feeling things out from this perspective and I’m approaching everything with gentle skepticism. If I had to label myself, I feel like mixed-origin median system sums it up pretty well. Anyway, the questions! Feel free to answer or give suggestions, but of course you’re not obligated to do so if you don’t want! <3

How common is it to struggle telling who/what is a headmate? Some specific emotions and sensations feel closely tied to some distinct version of myself separate from the usual “me” if that makes sense. This also applies to specific ways of speaking/thinking, which I usually dismiss as just bouts of the urge to improv or be dramatic but now that I think about it, it’s more like the emotions thing, just easier to cover up.

Do headmates sometimes front while dreaming? I only just considered this recently because of one of those specific emotions I mentioned in the previous paragraph being felt in a dream. That specific emotion hadn’t been felt in a very long time.

To what degree do folks experience depersonalization, derealization, and/or identity confusion (esp. the first two since I’d consider the latter tied to the first question)? It’s been almost constant for me since around 2013, worsening with anxiety & migraines and really worsening with panic attacks & tiredness, and very rarely easing up. I try to ignore it but it’s difficult sometimes. I know it’s not a plural exclusive thing but I’m curious.

I’ve heard that younger systems tend to have higher headmate counts than older ones. Is this true? I know there’s more people in here than the ones whose names I know or have given nicknames, but like. I’m 27 (as of today actually lol). This ties into my first question.

Do some systems have headmates that don’t have or want names, or that don’t have much (if any) interest in fronting or otherwise interacting with the host or greater systrm in the usual headmate ways? There’s a group of individuals here, and while some have cofronted or been co-conscious (to my knowledge I [host] haven’t ever fully “swapped out”), others in the group haven’t and seem to be disinterested in such things and stick with their group.

Are there different types of plural-related amnesia other than the kind where you don’t remember anything at all? What are those like? That I’m aware of, I haven’t ever had an episode where I lost time & had zero idea what I was doing for a period of time. However my memory is often spotty, which I know isn’t exclusive of systems but I’m curious about some of y’all’s experiences if you don’t mind sharing.

Hopefully those made sense, I’m sleep deprived and at work at the moment so if something reads weird, just ask me to clarify. Thank you in advance if anyone reads this & responds! ^^

[teine-mallaichte]

Hey, thought it was probably worth making an intro post.

So... I'm a wannabe writer who only started sharing my work in 2023, so I'm still kind of figuring out the world of online fandoms.

Writing Master List

Fandom wise I mainly write One Piece and Dragon Age stuff. Mainly ZoSan and Fenders to be honest. Which as a point are two wildly different fandom experiences 🤣

However, I am also currently branching out into original characters/fiction - mainly living weapon type stuff to be honest.

What I Like to Write About:

Character Studies and Internal Monologues: I enjoy attempting to delve into a character's mind, having them wrestle with their own demons or dilemmas.

World Building: I love world building, in fact I think I may prefer world building to writing actual narratives... But I can't exactly just share world building - at least I don't think I can...

Canon Divergence and "What If" Scenarios: I think these may be my favourite "tropes" to write, though I am getting into AUs recently.

Types of whump/angst I enjoy:

Living weapon

Hiding injury/illness

Altered consciousness

Environmental whump

Manipulation

Guilded Cage

Psychological whump

Whmperless whump

What I don't write:

I don't really write smut, I've tried and I just can't do it... I might try occasionally but, well don't hold your breath.

I hate writing fluff and comfort, but I do try to do so.

About Me:

Day Job: I'm a personal trainer & run coach, who specialises with marathon runners.

Peer Support Worker: I also work in peer support working with people who have experiences of self-harm and eating disorders. (I’m recovered from self-harm and bulimia myself.) I have also done a lot of work with people who have experience of abuse, and have my own history of PTSD.

Hobbies: I have done kendo for 16 years, akiedo for 6 months, and HEMA for a year. I also run.

Mental Health: I have schizoaffective disorder, which means I experience periods of psychosis, mania, and depression. Even when I'm stable, I have auditory hallucinations, my main voice is called Nigel and is essentially my constant irritating companion.

I am very open about my mental health, I've written several blogs under a pen name for charities in the past and often give talks locally about my experiences. So if anyone has questions go for it, if any writers want any info about what it's like to experience hallucinations or mania or whatever also just ask, seriously I'm basically impossible to offend.

I often incorporate elements of my own mental health experiences into my writing. It's the whole "write what you know" thing. After having to drop out of studying post-grad medicine at 22 (after fortunately at least completing my bio-med degree) due to my mental illness, sometimes it does feel like mental illness is "all the know" 😅

I'm back at uni now as a mature student, but studying psychology... So in a way this is still "all I know."

So that's a bit about me!

I take part in DADWC each Friday taking prompts from here.

I'm good with taking prompts at any time, from prompt lists (include the full prmpt and list in the ask) or just whatever prompt you feel like sending.

Most of my longer pieces are on AO3 here.