#genuinely it is so bizarre to know and be aware of like

[starlit1daydream]

On the subject of Equius Zahhak: hypersexuality and patriarchy.

It's been a hot minute since I promised to write something like this, and I've been meaning to test a new writing style for these big posts anyways - so I'm going to try my hand at explaining my personal interpretation of Equius Zahhak.

Equius is one of my favourite side characters in Homestuck, and though the individual components of his characterisation are intentionally facetious and humourous, all of these components then come together to form a fantastic and deeply layered commentary, however unintentional.

Let's begin with the basics: our introduction to Equius proper.

The narrative makes it clear from the start how you're meant to feel about this guy for starters - he's a creep and a weirdo. Nepeta says as much in their very first interaction on-screen:

This is backed up by the narrator themselves exhibiting a discomfort with him, painting him as a cryptic and eerily observant loner:

Once again, he's making people uncomfortable. Discomfort is going to be a very common theme going forward, particularly once we tap into Equius' personal interests and the justification behind them.

The next sign is when we first see him properly on-screen, and the narrator is immediately mortified by the state of his room and advises us to move on with the story.

So, immediately, any cognizant reader knows what's up. This guy is a joke character. A punchline, a fool, a weird asshole with no redeeming qualities. This is, of course, the intended reaction.

...Which then brings us to the subversions involved with Equius' character. Every single off-putting and strange thing about him is subsequently repainted in a more flattering light by the conclusion of his screen-time.

What begins as an overcontrolling, possessive demeanour towards Nepeta becomes a genuine, albeit perhaps overbearing desire to protect his moirail from harm. The context of him being Vriska's neighbour helps us infer that he's very, very aware of the dangers of FLARPing.

What starts as a bizarre and testosterone-poisoned obsession with strength becomes more of a fleshed-out character flaw. It's an inherent fault that Equius cannot control that brings him more distress than anything else. We'll delve into that later.

This is not, of course, to say that Equius is without genuine fault. You are still meant to find problems with his behaviour, of course you are; the Aradiabot fiasco is an intentional violation of personal agency based around an unhealthy obsession. He allows himself and his moirail to die because of his refusal to disobey the vapid and classist hemospectrum.

Okay, so why is he like this?

I'm glad you've asked. This is where this delves more into conjecture, based around a few different things.

The state of the internet and online culture at the time of Equius' inception; and the ramifications therein.

What we know to be true about the aspect of Void, and how Equius interacts with it.

The added retroactive context of Hussie's handling of queer topics (as a non-binary person themselves!), particularly on the subject of gender identity.

Let's start with point one.

Equius and hypersexuality.

At the time of Homestuck's inception, it was a veritable fact that the internet was overrun with overt sexuality, oft for the sake of shock value as opposed to arousal. Screamers and shock sites like 2girls1cup, goatse, Mr. Hands... (that last one is particularly relevant).

I cite Mr. Hands in particular because therein we get to the use of bestiality as a gross-out punchline. This is what Hussie's invoking with Equius; you're looking at this guy and seeing a gross freak who hangs horse porn on his walls. It's appealing to the fact that:

Homosexuality was considered a funny punchline.

The furry fandom was considered a funny puchline.

Bestiality was considered a funny punchline.

And so, this thirteen year old child hanging gay horse porn on his walls is meant to be played for laughs.

But with the retroactive lens we're looking at this through now? It's not only deeply disturbing for reasons I don't think I need to explain, but it's also a portrait of unhealthy teenage sexuality and the ramifications of exposure to explicit content at a young age.

Because it's a veritable fact that Equius does not understand boundaries and has a deeply flawed relationship with his sexuality. It's the kind of hypersexuality induced by childhood exposure to sexual material, and I would go as far as to call it a kind of CSE.

Need more proof of this? Dave Strider. Bro's weird sex puppets and usage of pornography as a punchline undeniably fucked Dave up, and explains the way he so regularly uses sex, particularly gay sex as a source of humour. Dave is the same problem that Equius rises, played seriously at a point in the story wherein these things are no longer treated so facetiously.

Furthermore, it becomes clear that Equius does not actually understand what he is consuming and emulating. Pornography isn't pornography to him, it's fine art. He's uncomfortable and unhappy with his sexuality because he lacks a label for it and doesn't know what it is he's feeling. This is tied to his Aspect of Void; but more on that in just a second.

This is uncomfortable. It is meant to be uncomfortable.

Equius' toying with casteplay and power dynamics is a clear representation of this frayed relationship - and it also segues into our point about his lack of self-worth.

Equius, the Heir of Void.

The Void Aspect. The Aspect of irrelevance, secrecy, ignorance, simplicity and absence, amongst other things.

The Heir Class. The Class that indicates an overabundance of the player's Aspect that overwhelms them and embodies them.

Equius is he who inherits, becomes and is consumed by emptiness. Because Equius Zahhak does not have a sense of selfhood or self-worth. The inference brought about by his title as the Heir of Void is that Equius is overwhelmed by nothingness.

Combine this with his Dersite status and the consensus on Lunar Sway (Prospit indicating externalisation, Derse indicating internalisation) and you get a very clear image of how Equius' title translates.

An overwhelming, consuming sense of internalised absence and nothingness. This is where Equius' hemospectrum adherence comes in! It's a cover up to compensate for his purposelessness and lack of meaningful identity. He sees himself as being deficient in anything real or of substance, and so adheres to the system placed before him because it is the only thing he feels he understands.

Once again, this is uncomfortable and a real phenomenon amongst teen boys. We see it with Eridan, too; young and confused teenagers with no sense of purpose falling into harmful and bigoted pipelines because they have no sense of direction otherwise.

(In a roundabout sense this explains Tavros' role as well; The Page indicates a deficit in their Aspect throughout the session and so the trolls lacking Breath in the form of directionlessness fits fairly well).

It's almost like watching a young boy fall into the alt-right, or start feed into Andrew Tate-style snake oil bullshit. It's the exact same kind of exploitation on a much larger scale; because it's the whole of Alternian society orchestrated by Doc Scratch.

You know... the Doc Scratch meant to represent online groomers?

So, we've been over about all I can cover about Equius' sexual trauma, lack of boundaries and emptiness/lack of self. So, how does this translate? Particularly thinking on the last point, I'd like to give my two cents about a very interesting headcanon for Equius that's been circulating a lot lately.

Equius, and gender identity.

A transfeminine reading greatly enhances the content of Equius' character, and provides a narratively satisfying character arc and means of development for them.

(From hereon out, I will be referring to Equius by the pronouns she/her).

I've seen Nekropsii sum this up beautifully, and I'll paraphrase this interpretation to the best of my ability; Equius' manifestation of masculinity is akin to a poison to her.

It makes her into a grotesque, testosterone-poisoned freak that physically cannot interact with anything around her without hurting it. It is the metaphorical confusion and fury of dysphoria made literal. It is the emptiness and lack of self that I myself can corrobate as a trans woman myself.

Masculinity is a curse for Equius. Much like quite a few other Homestuck characters (Dave & Jake come to mind), Equius really fucking hates being a guy.

So, this ties into my final point.

How I personally would have developed Equius had she been given the screentime to keep being relevant to the story.

The transfeminine character arc seems obvious. I believe that, if a person would be willing and able to tackle the more obscene and deliberately uncomfortable components of Equius' character, you could make an incredibly raw and interesting portrayal of transition and identity.

What's more; this is corroborated by Equius' closest relationship. Nepeta Leijon, the Rogue of Heart. The girl whose role indicates the ability to share identity and selfhood. Nepeta could very, very easily function as a catalyst for Equius gaining her own identity and being helped through the transition process. It makes an already STRONG and stable moirallegiance all the more interesting and heartwarming to witness.

This is not to say that Equius should not have agency herself, of course; an important part of this development would be the formulation of an independent self without debilitating outside influence. It would be allowing herself not to be consumed needlessly by Void.

Equius, and further relationship dynamics.

Equius' relationship with Gamzee (which I have always read as a one-sided kismesis) is also very important to me. This is not healthy. Equius is using Gamzee as a vessel for her fantasies and lack of boundaries, and through her black feelings she vents out her frustration with her sexuality and intrinsic need to obey and serve someone of a higher caste.

I don't think I need to tell any of you how well that works out once Gamzee goes sober. (I'd rather not dwell on the topic of the Makaras too long; that's something for a wholly separate post - and one that I'm sure would end up being rather scathing towards Hussie).

Finally, Equius' relationship with Aradia. This is also one I feel is unhealthy and once again one-sided. It is the same principle as Gamzee; merely in the red quadrant as opposed to the pitch one. Equius is using somebody as a vessel to vent out her feelings of purposelessness and frustration, and deliberately ignoring the lack of reciprocation.

Both of these connections are similar; and both of them end with Equius getting her shit kicked in.

How one would retool and treat these relationships post-character development is up to them, but I personally think it would be healthier for Equius to step away from both of them. I don't think Aradia would want or need Equius' continued presence in her life, and Gamzee is notoriously terrible at relationships. (We know damn well how a reciprocated blackrom with him turns out, just ask Terezi).

Equius, in conclusion.

That's all I really have to say on this matter; a long-winded and ultimately self-serving wall of text that I'm sure will come off as masturbatory and stupid when I read over it again. That being said, I wanted to lay all of this down in one place.

tl;dr - Equius Zahhak is a complex and interesting character with commentaries on teenage hypersexuality and unhealthy masculinity, and reading her as a trans woman provides an incredibly interesting character arc for her in the long term.

[lighthouseshepard]

just opened and read all the lovely messages people have left on that little tree and i am crying and lauging equally. thank you everyone ❤️ i love you

[6ebe]

the funniest thing I’ve learned in the last month or so is that not a single ice hockey player is attractive. like. genuinely. 36.7k fan fictions on ao3 abt ugly men fucking.

[agnesandhilda]

my father is an olympic gold medalist in the sport of emotionally tormenting women

[smile-files]

today i'm going home so i can get my flu shot and vote with my family... hopefully both go well

[taintandviolent]

Little Mouth ; Roman Godfrey x Reader

summary: Reader has been working for Roman Godfrey for a month now as his personal assistant / secretary. Their interactions have been... mostly professional. That is, until Roman figures out that she has a blood kink. [PART TWO HERE!].

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | blood kink, blood consumption, (technically) blood as lube, unprotected sex, rough sex, finger sucking, biting (he is an upir afterall), mind control.

a/n: requested by @babygorewhore! feast, baby! my first RG fic, be gentle. I tried really hard to get his characterization right, so dahsdfekjdsafs. i hope everyone likes it! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“You wanted to see me, sir?” The glass door shut behind you soundlessly. Almost everyone had gone from the Institute, you were always one of the last ones to leave, per Mr. Godfrey’s instructions. 

“Sit down,” he demanded. He was in a mood today - you could tell. Plus, you’d heard him yelling at someone earlier, his temper flaring over some menial task. Your ass hit the leather seat before he could continue. You’d only been working for him for a month, but in that short time, you’d seen Roman’s very volatile nature. Whenever he didn’t get his way… simply put, he got it. You never wanted to be at the receiving end of his rage, far more keen on remaining on his good side, the side that made you his favourite employee. Or so you liked to think. 

Pushing himself off the chair, he straightened his long legs, standing up and quickly rounding the corner of his desk, closing in the distance between the two of you. Although you were fully aware of how tall he was, when he stood next to you, his size never ceased to startle you. Additionally, with you sitting and him standing, the size difference was even more evident. This wasn’t the first time he’d been this close – Roman had a habit of always just being there when you least expected it – but it was the first time that you felt him press his hipbone against you, and the first time he reached forward to brush your silken locks off your shoulder. 

You shivered against his touch, doing everything in your power not to drop your face into his large palm and whine against his skin, begging him to touch you again. You hated that you were so weak for him, but he had an unimaginable effect on you and had from the first day you met him. Which, you remembered, so clearly… 

It had been raining, pouring actually, and by the time you got to Roman Godfrey’s office, you were drenched. A ‘wet rat of a secretary’ was a great first look. He’d smirked at your appearance, and made a flippant comment about arriving to work looking presentable, though judging by the way his eyes lingered on your clothing as it stuck to your body in all the right places, he wasn’t too put off. Despite you having three interviews for the position, as soon as you’d made it to his office, he’d interrogated you about your dedication to the position, asking bizarre questions about loyalty, claiming that you were, after all, his personal assistant.

Every time you tried to look away from him, he pulled you back wordlessly and those piercing green eyes held you tightly, like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. 

“You like it, don’t you?” 

Feigning innocence – something you know he picked up on – you raised your big, soft eyes to his, suckling your bottom lip delicately before speaking. Though, this time, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. “Like what, Mr. Godfrey?” 

“Stand up, Y/N.” 

You stood, hands obediently clasped in front of your skirt. He liked ordering you around and did it often. Every time he did, your core clenched, arousal gripping your insides tightly. At risk of being unprofessional, you deeply loved the way he sounded when he said your name, demanding that you do this or that. 

Without looking behind him, Roman reached for the letter opener on his desk, wrapping his long, lithe fingers around the handle. Holding it in front of your face, he jammed the meat of his thumb onto the sharp tip. Hot blood welled out from the small puncture and dribbled down the length of his thumb. Uncontrollably, your pupils dilated, watching as the blood streamed. How had he figured that out? You tried to remember all the times you’d spoken, and a devious blood kink was never a topic of conversation. Suddenly, it hit you. Last week.

You had an armful of files, ready to plant them on Roman’s desk. You shouldered open the door, and he stood there, in front of his desk, dragging his hand underneath his nose; a deep streak of crimson was left in its place. You felt your heart rate quicken, watching as the blood smeared onto his hand. You couldn’t help but stare, you have always been so fascinated with blood. The thought of it turned you on, though you’d never admit that out loud.

Roman brought you back to reality by dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the warm crimson across your already pink lips. Your bodies were flush against each other, and the steel grip he had on you ached. Roman’s nostrils flared; even his own, the smell of it drove him crazy. 

Another second passed, and he was devouring you. You gasped into the kiss; there was nothing subtle or slow about the way he was kissing you – literally, chewing and sucking and scrubbing his tongue over your lips, removing every trace of his own blood from your mouth. You were out of breath almost immediately, and forced out a hard breath, pressing your tongue against his, feeling the wet muscle react and tangle with yours. 

Suddenly, Roman’s teeth bit down on the plushness of your bottom lip and iron flooded your mouth. The taste of your blood mixed with whatever was left on his tongue was metallic and heady, and you moaned into his mouth, unable to withhold it any longer. You were almost disgusted with yourself, craving the taste of blood like some starved, unhinged, horror-movie vampire, but the way that he kissed and tasted you had your cunt throbbing beneath your red satin underwear. 

His hand gripping the nape of your neck hard, Roman pulled you away from his mouth, looking pointedly at you. Those big green eyes… you whimpered, craning back towards him. He responded by stretching his neck away, almost as if he was annoyed with your desperation. 

“You fucking like it, don’t you?” 

You nodded, hot and breathless.

“Say it. I want to hear those words leave that little mouth.”

“I…” you wavered, unsure.

“You’re going to be honest with me.” Roman’s eyes bored into yours, enveloping you. A hazy warmth blanketed you, to where all you could feel was confidence bubbling up in your chest; it surged through you like a wave, drowning out all other thoughts. Even if you’d wanted to think of something else, you somehow… couldn’t. “I fucking like it. I want more of it.” 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Yes. I have since I started working for you.” Your voice was laced with lust and desperation, despite being surprised that you had just admitted all that to him. Surely, that could get you fired. You were usually so meek, so timid, always polite. If Roman ever stared a little too long, you’d blush and look back to whatever busy work was on your desk. You weren’t the type to just openly say your innermost thoughts… until now, apparently. 

After searching your eyes for a moment, Roman’s lips were back on yours, his demanding tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, and you whimpered, throwing both your arms around his neck to hoist yourself closer to him. You finally had him and you weren’t letting go. It didn’t matter to you that he was your boss, you’d been waiting weeks for this kind of attention. You’d dreamt about it; thinking about the warm, inviting way he’d taste. Though, your dreams hardly compared to the way that he actually tasted. You tried to come up with some poetic description, but all you could think of was… blood. And sex.

Mimicking your interest, his arms wrapped around you, strong hands feverishly moving from your hips, to your breasts, to your ass. One hand drifted to your legs, fingers trailing up and around one of your thighs until they reached your warm mound. Effortlessly, the pad of his middle finger found your slit, stroking it lightly over the slickened fabric.

“Fuck, please!” Your lips disconnected from him to moan loudly, as your hips bucked into his hand. Roman responded, enveloping your cunt in his palm. He gripped her, massaging the ball of his hand against her, while the tips of his fingers pushed against your opening, still restricted by the fabric. At the threat of penetration, a mewling whine erupted from your throat.

Roughly, Roman ripped your blouse apart. The buttons flew somewhere, never to be found again, and you gasped, feeling exposed. But oh… it would only get worse. He backed away from you, watching silently. His gaze was cold and unreadable, but the corners of his mouth were upturned in the faintest smile. “Take it off. Take it all off. Now.” 

Desperate to have him back in your arms, you got to work, shrugging the silk blouse from your shoulders, and unclasping your bra from behind. Just as he’d thought; you wore a bra with no padding, only satin fabric. The Institute was kept fairly cold for obvious reasons, and your nipples were always poking through your thin blouses. You let your breasts fall free while Roman watched, hungrily devouring you with his eyes, his pink lips pursed, and pushing forward slightly. His fingers reached to your chest, ghosting over your cleavage. You undid the zipper of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Now, in nothing but your red underwear and your heels, you were almost entirely exposed. The chill of the room met your skin, leaving goose flesh over every exposed inch. 

He was suddenly gone from your line of sight, leaving nothing but your pathetic whimper in its place. Behind you, you heard him return to his desk, swiftly opening up a drawer and retrieving something. You didn’t dare turn around; he hadn’t told you to. You heard a drawer slide shut quietly. Then, he was in front of you again, a blood bag pinched tauntingly between his thumb and forefinger.

With a hint of smirk, Roman set the bag next to you on the desk, and pulled his shirt from his trousers before unbuttoning each button, and throwing the shirt off his shoulders. Your eyes widened, taking in their fill of his body. He was slender, but muscular, and his torso seemed to go on forever. He retrieved the bag, allowing it sway in front of your face. The bodily liquid inside was thick and tempting. 

“I brought it from the storage room,” he explained, unclipping the bottom of it. Red flowed through the tiny tube, and without hesitating, Roman brought it to his lips, letting it dribble over his mouth and chin. Your jaw dropped; you were in awe of the visual in front of you – your cunt clenched, your slick had fully soaked your underwear at this point, and the ache that was buried deep inside your walls was screaming to be found.

Inside, Roman felt the fiery lust blossoming. His cock was hard and his hunger had been piqued, a lethal combination. You’d been coyly toting yourself around the Institute for the past month, with your perky tits and bouncy little ass – he’d had enough. Roman brought the bag above your chest, and squeezed the plastic between his fist, letting the stream coat your tits in the sanguine nectar. It flowed over your nipples and down the curve of your stomach in thin, red tendrils before disappearing into the fabric of your underwear.  

Now covered in blood, Roman’s lithe fingers cupped your tits, smearing the blood over your hard nipples. He leaned down, and swept his tongue up from the meaty curve of one of your breasts up to your collarbone, his tongue leaving a clean trail behind him, repeating the action over and over again, suckling at the hollows of your collarbones. He was consuming so much blood… your thoughts drifted for a moment before Roman realized, and took your face in his blood-stained hand, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re going to focus on me, stop fucking going somewhere else.” 

“I’m…” 

“You’re a good little secretary who is going to do whatever I tell her.” 

You nodded eagerly, your pupils dilated and locked on him. There was that haze again, the warm, comforting haze that wrapped its invisible arms around you, guiding you to only feel what Roman instructed you to feel. 

“Back up, against the desk.” You took a few steps blindly backwards until the meat of your ass hit the edge of his desk. 

Bloodied, Roman leaned forward to kiss you again, urging you further against the edge of the desk while he busied his hands with undoing his suit pants. Once undone, he pulled his aching cock free and roughly yanked your panties over the curve of your hips, exposing your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet...” he murmured, his bloody finger slipping between your folds to come in contact with your wet, puffy clit. He traced small circles on it, immediately bringing your sensitivity up to dangerous levels. Your legs quivered, feet making tiny little steps to try to writhe away from him. “You really do have a thing for this, don’t you? Such a whore.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, though you couldn’t deny them. You nodded again, looking down at his hand buried between your legs, unable to formulate words with how he was pleasuring you. His jaw clenched, the muscles feathering on the side of his face. The smell of the blood and your cunt was intoxicating, and hit his nostrils hard. He needed you and he needed you now. 

“Look at me.” He instructed, purposefully distracting you as he lined his dick up with your waiting slit. 

Giving you no time to prepare, Roman slammed his cock into you, bottoming out. Your expression was one of pain and pleasure, dangerously mixed. He paused briefly to revel in the sensation of your sopping cunt clenching around his shaft, but quickly backed his hips up, all the way until only his tip remained inside, then dropped his chin to his chest to watch the erotic display as he plunged back in. You wrapped your legs around his waist, opening your cunt up further for him.

“Moan. Loud.” His voice was deeper, huskier than before and his darkened eyes were glued to you.

You did. Louder than you ever had, probably. With each thrust, your fingernails raked along his bare back, leaving slender red lines in the skin. He pushed his cock into you over and over again, his length punishing you in ways that you’d never imagined. The throbbing tip hit your cervix repeatedly and your eyes rolled back in your head, your back arching up. His hands slipped underneath you, long fingers tracing your bare spine delicately, almost. The juxtaposition of how cruelly he was fucking you and his gentle touches had your head spinning. You sucked in a breath and moaned it out, leaning your head back against his desk. You’d never been fucked like this, and suspected that unless it was with Roman, you never would be again. 

Still keeping his rhythm, Roman reached for the almost empty blood bag again, and held it above both of your bodies. As the stream ran down his bare chest and dribbled onto your stomach and your cunt, you lifted your head, looking at him dazedly and half-lidded. You were covered in blood, and so was he. It was a mess, but the mess drove your arousal forward, the scent of sweat, sex and iron filling the frigid room. 

He was fucking you silly, and all you could do was lay back and take it. Without saying a word, but keeping his cold, green gaze on you, he brought the tube to his mouth and squeezed, sucking the rest of it out. You looked at him like it was the most normal thing in the world, even though it wasn’t. You moaned again, feeling the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. Your orgasm was threatening, and every thrust brought you closer to that white, hot edge. Your body was crying out to let go, and come all over his long, punishing cock. 

You gasped. “Mr. Godfrey… fuck… fuck I’m going to….” 

With a slick pop, Roman withdrew his cock and slapped it against your swollen, tender clit a few times before sinking back into you, your hips shuddering. He reached to the side, scooping up some of the blood that had leaked from the bag onto the table. Abruptly, he brought his coated fingers to your mouth, forcibly pushing them past the obstruction of your lips, the blood smearing into the corners of your mouth. “Suck them.” 

You took his middle and ring finger into your mouth willingly, though he still pushed them against your tongue harshly, the tips hitting the back of your throat. Immediately, the metallic taste was so potent, it almost made you gag, but you withheld, your throat clenching around his fingertips. He thrust into you hard, the friction of his body rubbing against your clit drove you over the edge. You screamed, your legs quivering around him as your cunt pulsated, squeezing him tightly inside of you.

“Good girl...” 

At that visual, his cock twitched inside you, and his once rhythmic pace was erratic. As he emptied into you, painting your walls with his cum, he gripped you so hard that you cried out, jerking forward against his chest. For a moment, your eyes were tainted with fear, begging him to let go, but he didn’t. He gripped harder, bucking his hips up into you until his orgasm calmed. 

Aftwards, Roman returned to his cold, professional and somewhat snotty disposition. He pulled his softening cock from you, tucking it back into his briefs. He took your face in his hand again, pinching hard.

“You’re never going to say a word about this to anyone.” 

You nodded, adjusting as the silk of your blouse stuck to the drying blood. You weren’t sure what had just happened, but all you knew was that your back ached from the fucking, your legs were still shaking and you’d have to spend at least an extra hour in the shower, scrubbing all the blood from your body. Once he released you from his gaze, you bent down, retrieving your skirt from the floor. Surprisingly, you hadn’t gotten much blood anywhere. 

“Mr. Godfrey?” 

“Hm.” 

“Are you going to fire me?” 

“No.” 

There was a promise behind his curtness. There was also an unsaid threat, that if you didn’t want to do that again, he might. 

[olderthannetfic]

/olderthannetfic/769334704445997057/another-fandometrics-year-in-review-another-bevy

I am - genuinely - very sympathetic to the frustrations of solely f/f shippers and I DO think some people are a little too quick to shrug off the lack of f/f in fandom spaces with “lack of representation in media what can you do” when fandom is all about assigning personalities and backstories to one-line characters. HOWEVER. As someone who likes all kinds of ships, the experiences I have had across many MANY fandoms with solely f/f shippers treating people who also liked the main m/m ship as traitors and bad feminists, not to mention the number of people who have told me, a trans man, that I HAVE to write more f/f and less m/m For The Sisterhood, has made me LESS likely to engage in f/f, not more. Some of y’all are your own worst enemy when it comes to this stuff I swear. (Hashtag not all femslashers, hashtag some of my best friends are femslashers, etc)

--

Demands that people defend and explain perfectly commonplace things always end up generating dumber and dumber explanations.

I agree that that explanation by itself is kind of weak, but "Why are you asking only about AO3?" (as people often are) plus representation problems plus the other commonly cited reasons add up to a perfectly sufficient explanation. People just don't like what they're hearing.

--

The kind of f/f fandom people are often looking for—a by cis wlw, for cis wlw one—is not that different in size from the by cis mlm, for cis mlm one. They are both small.

Yes, I know they pretend that's not what they mean. They are lying. Possibly to themselves. Just look at the bawwwwing over the idea that cis men liking f/f could add to the amount of f/f art or the audience for the same.

Many AO3 slashers are better compared to transbian catgirls making lesbian furry porn or cis dudes horny for Buffy/Faith or something. There are plenty of people who care about f/f. They're just not necessarily the ~right~ people in the right spaces making the right art to count in some wanker's statistics.

Part of the reason our explanations and discussions always sound so bonkers is that we constantly compare apples to oranges.

--

And while we're at it, let's talk about that hoary old ~one-line character~ thing.

The reality is that we like to talk about how we elevate random walk-on characters, but the vast majority of shippy AO3 fanfic is about fairly major characters. Clint/Coulson was bizarrely popular in 2012. It has been twelve years. It is time to get over it.

On top of most things focusing on leads, the focus is often on characters who are given a lot of interiority. The audience is invited to be in their head and care about their feelings. People aren't usually good at analyzing film, so they use more familiar metrics involving text: how many lines do they have in the script? How many minutes does that translate to on screen? They don't know how to quantify a character being treated as an object to be looked at beyond "Booty shorts bad". But it's not general sex appeal or amount of skin on display that matters here.

As audiences, we respond to film grammar and "Just happen to like" or not like some character as a result of it, but we aren't aware of the mechanics, so we can't explain why beyond vague spluttering and "How dare you! Everyone should think this because it's the natural response!"

In general, media with multiple central women who have intense relationships with each other and who are conventionally attractive generate plenty of interest in f/f. Media with one hot girl who has the camera trained on her ass all the time while the men do everything interesting usually don't.

It's a no brainer and the harebrained explanations come from trying to look deeper to find the secret conspiracy where there is none.

--

The biggest mistake of most of this dumb discourse is "But I see all these queer women here. Why isn't there more f/f?"

This presupposes some default "normal" level of f/f without any actual justification for why that would be expected. You see the same nonsense from people going "Why is there so much m/m?"

What's the default? 10% because of the fake statistic that 10% of people are gay? 75% because action movies are sausagefests and all the important relationships are between men? What's the "normal" level of femslash? 25% because f/f, f/m, m/m, and gen are all equally valid? 80% because lots of fanfic writers are women?

Chasing one precise number is a fool's errand, but building a whole theory on the idea that there's an implicit number without even digging into that assumption is more foolish still.

When you look at the fanfic (or art!) spaces that are full of dudes, they often look like a bit of a mirror of AO3. Lots of het still. Lots of f/f. Lots of lady blorbos people are obsessed with. Limited m/m. Depending on the space, there might be a lot more gen. It's not perfectly 1:1, but then AO3 isn't precisely like other chick-heavy fanfic spaces anyway.

--

In my experience, the thing that makes a blorbo take off is that they're fairly major in canon, often driving the narrative even if they aren't the main protagonist, and they show up early.

In the cases where they weren't there at the very beginning, them showing up was the catalyst for fans who like this type of character to get into the canon at all. It's not just Castiel: you see it with Methos from Highlander and plenty of others. It's usually in a context where that fandom didn't have that much established for this type of fan. There wasn't a second dude to pair the lead with or the ship turned some people off or something. Highlander, for example, had fucktons of het shippers, both of canon het and of various OFCs and canon dudes. It was the slashers who stampeded over there when friends told them there was new ship potential for m/m. SPN... Sam/Dean was very popular on LJ, but I think it's obvious why a viable non-brother ship was of interest to people. I watched tons of people get pimped into Teen Wolf for Sterek. Of course they ended up liking it and not really caring about other ships: they were pre-selected to like that specific vibe. (And they are all wrong because Scott is the best and Derek has weird teeth.) The same thing happens with f/f. People get into media all the time because they're promised such-and-such a ship dynamic.

Wynonna Earp had plenty of people who were there for the women because the women are who matter for the most part. People were super into the canon f/f because it's hot and because it didn't seem like they were just going to get hit by a bus and shooed out of the narrative.

How many things that everybody and their sister saw have that many main women who matter? Some, definitely, but they're outnumbered by the sausagefests and by the things with very central het. Not everything with a huge audience gets a big fanfic fandom, but most things with big fanfic fandoms do have a big audience. You need critical mass to make a fandom happen.

Something like MCU has a variety of tasty shipping options, but the characters it spent all its time on first were the small selection of guys fandom cares the most about. When other characters were established very early, they also had an early spurt of fandom. I can't be the only one who remembers Pepperony fandom on LJ. It wasn't just people tagging canon ships in the background: Pepper/Tony shippers were a whole thing.

Yes, there are exceptions, but we make a big deal of them while ignoring the overall pattern.

Again, it is time to get over Clint/Coulson, Arthur/Eames, and people hallucinating that Hux had a personality in that first movie.

These are rare exceptions, and they're all snark-based at that. Darcy Lewis was also obnoxiously popular based solely on a few lines of snark, but that didn't count because she wasn't the correct and virtuous choice of favorite female character.

(Seriously, you should have seen the whining about all the people horny for Darcy who didn't give a fuck about boring Jane. Sorry, but your blorbo is a snooze and mine has amazing tits in addition to being funny.)

--

Let's go look at what's big on AO3 since it's easy and that's what other lazy statistics compilers do and then base their whining on:

Looking at the M/M tag, here's the sidebar:

Castiel/Dean Winchester (111856)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (70823)

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski (70134)

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (67796)

James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (61397)

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (56548)

Minor or Background Relationship(s) (55109)

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (49179)

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku (46679)

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (44754)

I'm seeing canons with huge audiences. Teen Wolf and SPN are way more popular in fanfic fandom, relatively speaking, but they're certainly not obscure media.

I'm seeing a lot of leads. Sirius/Remus does stand out a little: they aren't walk-ons, but fanon did elevate them. Same with Draco, but main protagonist/most obvious nemesis is hardly a surprising ship type.

Let's play with exclude filters and see what's next (numbers won't be exact since this is via excluding the previous batches):

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson (43234)

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (40115)

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V (38398)

Keith/Lance (Voltron) (32757)

Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) (32744)

Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester (31834)

Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) (31527)

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) (31011)

Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter (30819)

Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (30133)

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (27403)

Original Male Character/Original Male Character (26854)

Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou (26854)

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin (26454)

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov (26453)

Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) (21154)

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion (20946)

James T. Kirk/Spock (20716)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin (20561)

Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet (20113)

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru (20039)

Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio (18806)

Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel (18013)

Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier (17577)

Dan Howell/Phil Lester (17518)

Levi Ackerman/Eren Yeager (17404)

Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know (17390)

Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou (17141)

Tartaglia | Childe/Zhongli (Genshin Impact) (17041)

Harry Potter/Severus Snape (16773)

Oh look: more leads.

Sure, there are some little oddities, like the fact that taekook is obviously the worst BTS ship and it is a personal attack on me that it is that popular. But come the fuck on: this is a parade of some of the most famous musicians and most popular anime, shows that had huge audiences and particularly huge audiences of the type that like fanfic.

Let's have a look at f/m:

Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug (33773)

Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy (33031)

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) (29586)

Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (24192)

Minor or Background Relationship(s) (21606)

James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (21088)

Kylo Ren/Rey (16028)

James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader (15922)

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (15635)

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (15335)

Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (14552)

Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (14214)

Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin (13616)

Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson (11471)

Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak (11383)

Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan (11272)

Castiel/Dean Winchester (11187)

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added (10529)

Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov (9750)

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) (9736)

Okay, it is AO3 after all, so some m/m ships have snuck in there, but the general trend is still leads, leads, leads, now with some readerfic. (For James/Lily, you can blame the insanity that is Marauders fandom on TikTok, or so I hear.)

And f/f:

Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (21520)

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) (17873)

Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan (16168)

Minor or Background Relationship(s) (13681)

Clarke Griffin/Lexa (12876)

Adora/Catra (She-Ra) (11532)

Amity Blight/Luz Noceda (10880)

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (10532)

Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends) (8925)

Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long (7766)

Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler (7369)

Korra/Asami Sato (7146)

Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair (6720)

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added (6684)

Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught (5764)

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) (5529)

Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell (5347)

Laura Hollis/Carmilla Karnstein (4895)

Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo (4662)

Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie (4402)

Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan (4284)

Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (4223)

Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam (3936)

Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova (3876)

Maya Bishop/Carina DeLuca (3700)

Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva (3689)

Castiel/Dean Winchester (3664)

Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price (3471)

Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs (3394)

Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee (3324)

Carmilla might be a little obscure compared to some media, and some other ships have snuck in here, but again, we're seeing some fairly prominent canons and the leads or at least main cast who have intense relationships in those canons. If most fantasy tv shows were Once Upon a Time, all of AO3 might be awash in nothing but swanqueen and captainswan.

The big thing that one sees is simply that f/f fandom often revolves around different media, while m/m and f/m are more likely to be into the same stuff that's full, full, full of main dudes getting to do things with one woman who matters.

We do not, in general, elevate anybody.

Not unless some very talented writer leads the way first with a juicy longfic that establishes all the fanon.

We repeat the myth that we do because it suits a certain narrative about how creative and transformative fandom is—and another equally popular narrative about how the lack of ship A/B is a ~conspiracy~ to rob one of one's rightful overflowing feed trough of fic.

It's bullshit.

We write about leads.

[soapyghostie]

I love all these slasher posts✨ especially the Sawyer brothers ones ❤ can you do one where when sleeping on their bed their S/O literally falls off in the middle of their sleep and what their reactions will be?😭 idk why i feel like that would be hilarious <3

Here’s the request I promised y’all earlier. Another one that’s been in my inbox for months. Enjoy!

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a heavy sleeper: working all those long hard hours in that Texas heat results in extreme exhaustion for him by the end of the day. Once Bubba is asleep, he initially doesn’t even notice when you, unknowingly due to you also being asleep, roll off the bed onto the floor. 

When he eventually wakes up and feels that your side of the bed is empty, Bubba panics through squeals of distress, thinking something terrible has happened to you. He’ll scramble out of bed to end up finding you fast asleep on the floor. This makes Bubba feel so much better, knowing you're okay. However, sleeping on the floor just won’t due and he must get you back on the comfy bed so you can get more comfortable rest. 

Bubba bends down to pick your sleeping form off of the floor and back onto the bed. Then he rearranges the bed around you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between the both of you (just in case he accidentally pumps you off), fashioning a makeshift barrier of pillows to prevent you from rolling off. Bubba will also wrap your sleeping form in one of his homemade blankets he crafted in his freetime when doing one of his “hobbies.”

When he’s satisfied with tucking you back in, Bubba will crawl back into bed and drape an arm around your figure to secure you from rolling off the bed again. From that night forward, Bubba will train himself to become a light sleeper, allowing him to become subconsciously aware of your movements to prevent you from falling off the bed again. 

Nubbins Sawyer

Nubbins would initially sleep through your unfortunate sequence of events of you falling off the bed until he hears a loud thump. He’ll wake up to the sound, sitting up abruptly, blinking in confusion before realizing you're nowhere on the bed anymore and breaking into a mischievous grin. 

Nubbins will pull out his camera and start taking pictures of your limp sleeping form twisted in the weirdest and uncomfortable sleeping possible you’d ever see. Once he had his fun, he’ll shake you awake as hard as he can, ending with you probably getting angry at him and chewing him out for waking you up. When you realize you are laying on the floor, Nubbins will most likely start teasing you with playful remarks, joking about your “gravity-defying escape” from the bed. 

However, underneath the playful banter, Nubbins is genuinely worried about you, checking to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself on the way down to the floor. He’ll even offer to help you get back onto the bed. Nubbins will also use this opportunity to recount some bizarre bedtime stories of his brothers to lighten up the mood, helping you forget the initial embarrassment of your fall. His laughter will echo through the room as he regales you with tales of sleepwalking or bed-flipping mishaps from his experiences. 

Once you're all tucked in, Nubbins will settle back into bed, cuddling up to you with a twinkle in his eye and that goofy grin he always has, ready to take more peculiar adventures with you tomorrow. 

ChopTop Sawyer

ChopTop jolts awake to the sound of your body hitting the floor almost immediately, his wild hair standing on head as he assesses the situation. When he realizes you fell off the bed, rather than showing immediate concern, ChopTop will burst into a fit of laughter, finding the situation highly amusing and entertaining. 

You’ll wake up to him right next to you poking you. Once ChopTop notices that you're awake, he’ll start teasing the hell out of you, making crude dark and twisted jokes. He’s trying to push you over the edge to try and get a reaction out of you. It’s like him encouraging you to punch him at this point: I wouldn’t blame you if you did though. 

Deep down, he would be worried about you. ChopTop checks you for any bruises or injuries while making more jokes showing both concern and amusement. He’s really trying to hide that softer side of himself that he has for you. He needs to be manly and not all soft and mushy like a little girl. God Damnit (Y/N)! 

Once he knows you're alright and don’t have any sort of injury, ChopTop will go back to his normal self and brush off any sort of concern he had for you. He’ll even suggest turning the accident into a funny story, weaving a narrative about the legendary “bed diver” in his signature storytelling style. His laughter lingers in the air as he gently helps you back up into the bed. Is that a hint of nervousness that I hear in that laugh ChopTop? As you both settle back down, he will continue to try and entertain you with bizarre anecdotes and offbeat humor as he wraps a protective arm around you as you fall soundly to sleep. wink

[autisticlancemcclain]

this is how it started

———

This is how it continues: Keith holds his hand all the way to breakfast.

In itself not incriminating. Lance holds Hunk’s hand all the time. He’s always got an arm around Pidge’s shoulder. Shiro is amused by Lance’s incessant attempts to have them skip about with their arms linked. Sometimes he offers his arm to Allura with the poshest expression he can muster, just to make her laugh. Not all of his attempts are entertained by his friends, of course, but there’s nothing novel about Lance attaching himself to people as they move about.

Keith reaching out, as they walk out of the bedroom they just shared, and linking their hands together easy as pie is, however, novel.

Everything is so bizarre. It’s worsened, really, after a night of decent sleep (in a real genuine mattress!), because it’s just not what Keith and Lance…do. They race each other to doorways, yanking on hoods or sticking out legs to trip and get ahead. They escalate from light shoving to full on wrestling in the middle of conversations. Keith is not exempt from Lance��s constant need to touch, sure, but it’s never — like this. Light, easy, comfortable, familiar.

(It was, briefly, at the end. When on their way to meetings and briefings and missions even Keith’s hand would rest on the small of Lance’s back. Absentmindedly. Unnoticeable. But a he left a week after it started, and as far as he’s concerned anything started in that era has long since been left behind them.)

They’re late — the rest of the team has already gathered. Pidge and Allura are half asleep on either of Shiro’s shoulders, and Coran and Hunk are arguing intensely but playfully about a pile of unrecognisable goo that Lance has learned to recognise as the space version of oatmeal. Hunk pokes it in disgust. Coran feigns outrage.

All five faces turn to them as they approach, and Lance can’t place a single one of their expressions. He is made suddenly aware that he has loosened his grip on Keith’s hand when he feels him squeeze three times, quickly in succession.

“…Huh,” Shiro says after a moment, eyes trained on their clasped fingers. His face is carefully blank. No one else offers any commentary.

“How’d y’all sleep,” Keith asks, pulling out a chair. Lance realizes after a beat that it’s meant for him, and he flushes up to his ears. He tugs his hood over his head and nearly upends the table in his haste to melt into the offered chair. Keith, in contrast, sits down next to him and rests an arm over the back of Lance’s chair so smoothly it has to be practiced.

Pidge makes a choking noise, cheeks puffed up like she barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Hunk has both hands clapped over his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, face redder than his lion.

Keith’s fingers brush his shoulder. He sinks further into his chair and tugs his hood down lower.

“I slept exceptionally,” Allura says loudly. The look she cuts Lance’s way is straight-up evil, and Lance knows what’s coming, and for several agonizing seconds he considers grabbing the spoon from the goo bowl and stabbing it straight through his eye. “The beds were very comfortable, didn’t you find, Keith?”

You are so dead to me, Lance thinks at her. He even thinks i’m in Altean so the fury can reach her properly.

“Yeah.” Keith leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Lance’s face gets exponentially redder, and the peanut gallery starts screeching quietly, but despite himself he — leans. Into it. And Keith notices, because his mouth curves into a smile, and he presses another kiss to the curve of Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “Slept right for the first time in two years.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shiro says, reminding Lance once again that he is, in fact, Lance’s hero, actually, last few months notwithstanding. He shoots Lance a fond, teasing smile, then turns back to Keith. “My question is: what the fuck?”

“Seconded,” Pidge agrees through a mouthful of goo.

Hunk grimaces at her. She shoves three more bites of goo into her mouth then opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at the yellow paladin, just to be disgusting. With a scandalized “gross, Pidge!” Hunk shoves chair away and marches to the other side of the table, leaving Pidge sniggering.

Keith watches the whole thing with a smile on his face soaked in so much sadness Lance’s chest physically aches with it. He darts out a hand and wraps it around Keith’s, squeezing it in a mirror of the way he did before. Keith smiles gratefully at him, pulling up his hand and kissing the back of it. Somewhere, Lance hears someone mutter: “Christ alive.”

“There was a — shipwreck, of sorts,” Keith explains eventually. His voice is soft. “Krolia and I flew too close to something. Our intel was outdated. When we finally made it out of the wreckage we were stranded on the back of a space whale, and time was…stretchy.”

“That explains so very little,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He stabs his spoon in some goo. “Space has done little but piss me off in the last couple years, if I’m being honest. Keith, I swear to God I’m going to ground you.”

Keith grins. “Fat chance, old man. I outrank you now.”

“That’s what you think.”

Lance watches them both critically as they argue. Well, ‘argue’. They’re both grinning too hard for any real animosity. And exhaustion still lines Shiro’s features, and he still leans onto Allura for support, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s been missing for months. And Keith is —

Keith is here, leaping to his feet, spoon of goo bared dramatically, and he is tired too but he is warm and soft, somehow, and the weight that Lance has always watched on his shoulders seems to have lifted. There is an easiness to him now that there wasn’t before. And Lance notices and cannot stop noticing, because he is beautiful, and because for some reason he has decided to plant himself next to Lance, closer than before, and bleed his warmth. And Lance is supposed to be the lighthearted one and the joking one and the easy one. That is his role. That is what he knows how to play.

But he’s been struggling. And the role has not come easy. And last night he had cried until he slept in Keith’s arms and Keith had held him and checked the room and kissed his hair and has yet to let go of him.

Lance looks at Keith and thinks to himself: maybe just this one thing.

Keith reaches half over the table and musses his brother’s hair, pushing him back into Allura’s careful hold and sitting heavily back in his own seat. He frowns, staring at the space that has grown between his chair and Lance’s during his roughhousing. Slowly, he reaches over and grabs the bottom rung of Lance’s chair, dragging him over until the space between them has disappeared, then he nods once to himself, satisfied, and throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him even closer.

And Lance thinks to himself: oh, God.

For a moment Lance is tense. He feels the stares of the rest of the team, teasing and interrogating all at once. He can already anticipate their questions, probably on par with his own.

Keith rests his cheek on top of Lance’s head.

“You good?”

Suddenly, none of that seems to matter. He thinks to himself: I need to sit him down and ask what the hell is going on.

Keith’s thumb starts to gently brush back and forth on the cusp of his shoulder.

He says: “I am now.”

This is how he lets it continue.

———

this is how it ends

[thewertsearch]

TG: oh so this is the trollplanet TG: pretty cool not really what i pictured AA: what did you picture […] TG: a bunch of trolls flying around in little grub pods constantly screaming at each other through bullhorns shaped like buckets AA: thats very silly and a little perverse […] AA: but actually that sounds like what it might have been like on some parts of the planet sooo

Aradia lived out in the boonies, so she's not much of an authority on cosmopolitan life in Alternia. Sollux is the city boy, and I wouldn't be surprised if this was what his area was like.

TG: so what am i supposed to do now that im dead […] TG: where are the fucking hauntoffs at is what im asking AA: i dont know about hauntoffs AA: but there is plenty of time to satisfy various curiosities you might have about existence and whatnot

I guess even this neighbourhood has a Janet.

... man, I miss The Good Place. I’ve been rewatching clips from the show this week, and it's actually got a lot in common with Homestuck. They're both character-driven stories with enormous scope, centered around a bizarre institution which governs all of reality.

AA: there are all sorts of friends to meet AA: ones you already know and ones you dont

Is Aradia referring to members of her own team, or are there ghosts from entirely different sessions floating around the Bubbles?

Feferi was prophesized to unite only two races, something she's achieved through the Horrorterrors. This implies we won't be seeing any other alien species, but we could see other human Players. Technically, it also means we could see other trolls, but that's pretty unlikely. As far as we're aware, Alternia only spawned a single session.

Anyway - the more I think about these Dream Bubbles, the more I'm starting to realize how much strategic potential they have. Affinity for the Furthest Ring is a genuine boon, and being a Derse Dreamer is more advantageous than I thought.

AA: time is like a game […] AA: and games are fun but sometimes you dont realize how much fun you were having until theyre all over AA: and sometimes you look back and realize for some stupid reason you werent having any fun at all!

What an interesting sentiment that I’m sure is not at all autobiographical.

Aradia spent the entire session as a robot with zero agency, and never got to use her powers for her sake, instead of the timeline's. It makes perfect sense that she didn't have fun with her Aspect.

Tavros! My man, Tavros!

Alright, this is actually fantastic. Tavros died before he could reveal Vriska's batshit plan to the team, but Aradia has handed him a second chance. All he has to d-

AT: lOOKS LIKE i FOUND ANOTHER POINT IN TIME TO BOTHER YOU, AT: wHEN, i GUESS, AT: yOU ARE MORE EMOTIONALLY SUSCEPTIBLE, […] TG: are those sick fires youre packing there TG: you best not be bringin that fire into my bubble less you plan on dropping that shit

-he's just here to rap, isn't he.

[aprillikesthings]

So this is somewhat of a continuation of my "you could headcanon Catra as demisexual based on canon" post, but I wanted to write a new post for this.

So there’s a fascinating conversation to be had about why, in fics where Catra and Adora aren't together (yet), so many of us have written Adora as…not a prude per se, but far less likely to hook up with other people—and have written Catra doing that, instead. (I mean, I have an unpublished WIP that includes that; I'm not throwing stones at glass houses here.)

And I do think some of it is that Adora is awkward in that way that’s so often some combo of a sheltered upbringing/ADHD/autism; whereas Catra is in fact more openly flirtatious.

(Disclaimer: In this post I'm using "slutty" in a neutral-to-positive sense.)

But the irony is that One, plenty of people who share those qualities with Adora are in fact hella slutty*; and Two, Catra clearly doesn’t intend to follow through on all that flirting.

ANYWAY time for my actual thesis of this post:

The real reasons, IMHO, that it's easier to see Adora as less slutty than Catra:

Adora is so visibly uncomfortable in her skin, and Catra is not

Adora doesn't even realize when she's attracted to other people

Catra however is aware of when people find her attractive (and changes how she interacts with them based on that)

The tweets aren't connected; they weren't part of the same thread. But ND's made no secret of the fact that he gave Adora a bunch of his own traits**, and it was after s5 that he started coming out as trans--which isn't to say Adora is intended to be read as dysphoric. But the way Adora never thinks of herself or what she wants carried over into not thinking about her physical body as anything other than a tool, and not feeling comfortable in her body, and not feeling like she owned it. (Which....is probably related to ND's religious trauma, considering how many conservative/fundie Christians straight-up tell women and girls their body doesn't belong to them. In those words. Literally.)

And I think that's part of why Adora reads as so awkward. The idea of someone wanting her and finding her attractive is just bizarre to her to the point that she doesn't even see it.

She does clearly find other people attractive! But I don't think she realizes she's doing it--she reminds me a bit of when I was 15 and stared at women in bikinis on the beach and tripped over my own feet because I was looking at them and not where I was going lol, and had literally zero idea I was doing it until my best friend told me about it later.

Adora didn't even know she wanted to kiss Catra until just before it happened--if Glimmer had pulled Adora aside in the Crimson Waste and said "lol you want Huntara so bad," Adora would've been genuinely confused!

And that's all before you get into the whole She-Ra thing, and you could write a long-ass essay about Adora's sense of identity and the degree to which she sees She-Ra as herself or not. But the fact is that She-Ra has a different body than Adora! Taller, stronger, a lot more hair lol. And the people around her clearly value She-Ra differently than they do Adora. So that's a whole. Thing.

Meanwhile: Catra just feels comfier in her body. She does try to tamp down her cat-like qualities to some degree, especially in s4, but a lot of it was just that her ears and tail tended to give away her emotions, and she was trying to hide them. She stops suppressing that at some point after Save the Cat. (And then the Universe gave her a mood ring alien cat, lol.) Catra's got her own pile of Issues, but her body is just not one of them.

There’s a scene at the end of The Coronation (s4ep1) where Catra is in her s4 outfit for the first time, and she basically does the “I’m in charge now” thing at Hordak, and I’m sorry but it’s...not NOT sexually charged, even leaving aside that her new outfit has thigh slits and a boob window. She’s sitting in his throne and purring (loudly!) and then purrs out a "Hey, Hordak."

She basically forces him to his knees, taunts him, and then we see from his POV as she sits back in that throne and crosses her legs. If she’d done that in a scene with literally any non-male character it would be seen as ship-bait!

Is she intentionally flirting with Hordak? Lol no.

But you'll notice: She doesn't do it with Scorpia, when she's mean to Scorpia. With Scorpia she's just...biting and cruel. So she clearly has some idea what she's doing when she taunts people, enough that she knows Scorpia would take it differently. She knows Scorpia finds her attractive and is trying to push Scorpia away.

Catra also doesn't do it with Double Trouble! Double Trouble flirts with Catra, but Catra gives none of it back, and as noted in my previous post, is even visibly uncomfortable with it at times.

Which isn't to say Adora never does the "flirtatious taunting" thing:

But like, where. Where do you think she learned it from.

(this post is once again relevant)

EDIT: another example of Adora learning it from Catra, taken from a "She-Ra Crack" video:

(*Me. In my 20’s. Just remember kids, lots of neurodivergent nerds are hella slutty.) (**iirc that's how he got diagnosed with ADHD. Everyone just like "hey is Adora intentional ADHD rep" and he was like "no, I wrote her like me?? ...oh. shit.")

(Lastly: anyone reblogging this to shame people for writing/hc'ing/shipping whatever they want will get blocked. I'm not even sure I hc Catra as demi and I wrote a whole post about it lol.)

[toa-arania]

Gender is such a fascinating thing in Bionicle because objectively why is it there? Why do the biomechanical maintenance nanobots of a giant robot have gender? Or, more accurately, why do they have a gender binary? The gender binary as we understand it is (unfortunately) heavily linked to biological sex, something that MU bionicles don't have. The logical answer is that the Great Beings gave them gender to be reflective of their own society, where there are biological beings that reproduce biologically and have a gender binary that presumably sprouted from that, at least initially. However, despite giving them gender, they didn't give them any kind of sexual dimorphism, and for this we want to look at some of the non-matoran species and how they interact with gender.

The Vortixx are a society heavily stratified by gender - being 'male' or 'female' is more like a class system, with females as the upper class and males as the lower, working class. It's very reminiscent of the Orions from Star Trek. Additionally, we know that the species is not sexually dimorphic. Yes, the species that produced Dommy Mommy Roodaka, with her heels, ass, tits, and ponytail, is not sexually dimorphic. We see in one of the comics that a Vortixx confirmed to be male also just looks like that, and honestly we love that for him. He even has the rhotuka ripcord that kinda looks like a riding crop. We know that the Vortixx were created by Mata Nui rather than the Great Beings directly, so is it perhaps possible that because their perception of gender made no sense to apply to the MU inhabitants, Mata Nui compensated by having gender present itself in other ways?

Consider also the Skakdi, where the only thing we know (at least as far as I'm aware) about their relationship with gender is that there are female Skakdi, and that they are more violent and destructive than the males. We have never seen one, and we know so little to the point where I actually thought for a while that the Skakdi were a single-gender species. Like the non-GSR characters in Bionicle, they were given their elemental associations separately from their genders, and we've seen nothing to suggest that gender has any bearing on their society aside from disposition.

Then we come to the Matoran. For Matoran, gender is quite frankly fucking bizarre. The Av-Matoran were the first type to be made, and they are also the only type that can be more than one gender. The doylist explanation for that is so that they can blend into other Matoran types better, but that doesn't make any sense because those other types didn't exist yet. We do have a quote from Greg about gender in the Matoran, where it's stated to be a psychological difference rather than a physiological one, where the 'feminine' elements are calmer peacemakers, which is an absolutely fascinating quote because it's completely untrue. It might be true about the Ga-Matoran (with notable exceptions like Hahli), but it sure ain't true of the Vo-Matoran and Ce-Matoran, where our two primary examples are Chiara (electrocutes a lizard to make the point that females aren't gentle) and Varian (tortures Norik with nightmares for fun). There's also Orde but I genuinely have no idea what to do about him. He claims that he got all Ce-Matoran made into women to make them chiller and it clearly didn't fucking work so other than I guess the pitch of their voice there just isn't any observable difference.

What is demonstrably true is how general disposition does seem to vary between individual elements, and since Greg has confirmed that gender in Bionicle is a psychological variation that affects outlook and disposition, I honestly do not think it's a stretch to say that, at least for the Matoran, each of the fifteen elements is a separate gender. Honestly this even makes the elemental prefixes neopronouns, from a certain perspective. The Shadow Matoran are also fascinating to look at from this angle because they don't ordinarily exist; they're made from other kinds of matoran - the fifteen 'standard' genders if you will. They don't call themselves Kra-Matoran because they aren't a defined group, and they never think of themselves as one. They go back to what they were beforehand perfectly fine and at least act better off for it - with one exception. Gavla (the only female Av-Matoran we actually meet, who feels ostracised from her community) wanted to stay a Shadow Matoran, a kind of Matoran outside the standard concept of what elements they could be because she felt wrong as an Av-Matoran, and as a Shadow Matoran she felt more like herself. All this is to say:

Gavla Bionicle is Transgender and Non-Binary, have a nice day.

[stevie-petey]

hi!! can we get a cute fluffy stug blurb to deal with all the angst? your writing is genuinely so incredible i get scared to read a new chapter bc i don’t want to see them suffer but your writing is so so so good it just draws me in completely. I hope you’re proud of come home bc it’s INCREDIBLE i don’t think i’ve read anything related to steve that i love more. and the blurbs?? what else could we ask for omg you’re giving us EVERYTHING

hi dear !! i was savin a fluffy request for when we needed one, and i think after these last few days ,,,, some cute bickering between robin, steve, dustin, and bug is needed.

enjoy <3

"your boyfriends late."

"the bell rang like, five seconds ago."

"hes still late."

robin rolls her eyes at dustin while you shove him off the curb. he yelps in surprise and you snicker. "watch your step, dusty."

"do not call me that." he glares at you, straightening his hat. hes shot up at least three inches since this summer and soon he'll be your height and not so easy to shove onto the street.

"children, please." robin sighs exhaustedly. "i have a four hour shift ahead of me. can we save the arguing for later?"

"she started it!" dustin exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at you while you point at him and shout, "he started it!"

a car pulls up behind the two of you. "whatever youre arguing about, im on y/n's side."

steve pokes his head out through his rolled down window. hes wearing his stupidly cheesy raybands that youve come to adore. smiling at you, he sends you an air kiss. "miss me?"

dustin thwacks the teens nose, eliciting a very unattractive screech to fall from steves lips. "never do that again."

your brother then gets into the back of the car while you and robin giggle hysterically. she has to clutch onto your arm to avoid toppling over in her laughter. youre no better yourself, snorting with every quick inhale of breath.

"tha' wasn' funny," steve holds his nose while he tilts his head back. hes worried the shithead gave him a bloody nose, but all you and robin can focus on is how nasally his voice is now.

the two of you laugh even harder, and all steve can do is flick you off and pout.

"you guys are assholes." he grumbles, finally starting the car after you and robin collect yourselves.

"im sorry, honey." you press a soft, gentle kiss to the tip of steves nose. "is that better?"

of course your kiss made steve feel infinitely better. but he isnt an idiot. hes aware of the audience in his car. theres no way hes giving dustin and robin even more ammunition against him.

"not answerin' that."

dustin snorts. "oh, so now hes smart not to flirt with you in front of me."

"why are you even in my car?"

"why are you even dating my sister?"

robin raises her hand. "i have an even better question: why am i being driven to my shift that starts in five minutes?"

"thats a great question, robin." your body turns to the one next to you. "steve, care to answer?"

steve waves a sarcastic hand at you, but he pulls out of the school parking lot anyways. you, robin, and dustin cheer. though steves eyebrows are knit in annoyance, you know hes secretly elated as well. its rare to have a day at family video with you and dustin alongside him and robin.

with your shifts at the bookstore and dustins growing fascination with eddie, its nice to just have some time with one another. family video always feels bleaker without the hendersons.

"alright, what has horny heather selected this week?" dustin makes himself at him behind the video counter. long having memorized the systems password, he easily logs into the stores rental catalogue.

horny heather is the name youve given one of family videos most frequent customers. shes an older women with a bizarre fixation for movies with attractive male leads. it wouldnt be so bizarre if it werent for the fact that she regularly rewinds to every single shirtless scene the movies contains.

and every nude scene.

sometimes you hate how much family video knows about its customers.

you plop down next to dustin. "my money is on anything with tom cruise. she seems to have a thing for brunettes."

"and who can blame her?" steve flicks his hair out of his face. "we're obviously the best."

robin throws her jacket at him. "stop drooling over yourself. its unbecoming for a young man."

"dude, you sound like my mom."

"jokes on you. your mom is totally a babe," robin bats her eyelashes at him. "im taking that as a compliment."

steve blanches at this, completely disgusted and offended. he looks at you incredulously. "you hearing this? she just called my mom a babe. thats-thats just so wrong-"

"your mom is pretty hot." you shrug at steve. "sorry, honey. im on robins side."

robin high fives you, snickering in victory. steves jaw drops in pure astonishment. hes speechless. he cant believe youd betray him like this. he cant believe you think his own mother is hot.

dustin looks at the scene before him and shakes his head. you guys are being totally immature. "cmon, guys. thats just wrong."

steve waves his arms out at the kid. "see? thank you, little henderson. god, i cant believe youre the only one here with any sense left-"

"of course, buddy!" dustin smiles wickedly at him. "its silly for y/n and robin to call your mom hot. we all know its really your dad is way hotter."

"what-?" steve gasps for air.

"his broodiness is hot, isnt it?" you grab dustins arm excitedly. "i mean, hes just so stoic. so stern."

robin pretends to faint. "its so... manly."

steve goes to the corner and screams.

which just so happens to be the same corner a poor, old woman is browsing in.

he ends up getting hit with her cane.

its a good day.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Belated collab piece for Solomon's Birthday 2023!

Art by Mod Cosmos

Writing by Mod Chaos

His Immortal Soul

Can also be read on AO3 here Word Count: 3.8k Description: "Madness, where is its soul? Madness, all alone." A series of reflections on Solomon, shining souls, and what it means to be human.

Iarabal

With an impressive 72 pacts at his command, the Witty Sorcerer Solomon is said to have a most delectable and enticing soul. Demons clamor for the chance at a piece of it; there are rumors that even Death herself longs to claim it. It shines with the wisdom he was once gifted, and it is finely aged with the polish of immortality. The soul of a man who controls so many demons without succumbing to their allurement is a delicacy indeed.

Humans with the power to resist demons have nicely polished souls, like jewels. The more noble a soul, the shinier, and the more demons both long to claim it and are repelled by it.

At least, that's how it should be. That’s how it usually works. It’s what Iarabal had expected, when he'd heard that the infamous sorcerer himself would be coming to RAD as an exchange student under the Demon Prince's bizarre plan. Of course, no one had dared actually touch him once he arrived -- his pacts are with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, and the idea of treason aside, none would want to additionally face the wrath of those such as Asmodeus or Barbatos. And that’s all before even getting to the sorcerer himself, a man so powerful and conniving that he’d managed to gain the power of those many demons while offering away little to nothing of himself in exchange.

So Solomon’s soul, by all rights, is quite beyond reach to any average demon such as himself.

But Iarabal had planned to look upon it, at least, and savor the fantasy of devouring it. Flames lick at the insides of his belly in anticipation, and he salivates at the thought, even if he knows he will never get a taste. A demon can dream, can’t he?

Yet, as he lays eyes upon the sorcerer, something feels not quite right. It sparkles, yes -- even more dazzlingly than the demon had imagined, it sparkles. But there is something wild and incomprehensible about it, like funhouse mirrors warping the refractions of a million diamonds. The longer he looks, the more it seems to expand and stretch, and he is trapped in it, as though a cavern of crystal is closing itself around him. His appetite is fading rapidly, and a growing sense of something almost like dread builds in his stomach in its place.

Is Solomon so noble, to be able to repel him this way? Is this the strength of how powerfully his soul shines?

The demon isn’t sure. This doesn’t feel the same as any other time a human’s soul has repelled him. He feels like he’s losing his mind entirely, and the longer he stares, the worse it seems to get. Then again, he’s never looked upon a human so powerful as this, so who can say?

Iarabal averts his gaze. He doesn’t want to look upon it anymore.

The sorcerer’s soul is, he thinks to himself, better left alone.

Lucifer

There is something very, very strange about that sorcerer, Lucifer thinks.

Solomon has, as always, asked him for a pact again today. “Come on, this is basically just how we greet each other, isn’t it?” the human explains away blithely when the demon rejects him, with a smile that doesn’t match the seriousness of what he asks.

Of course, it’s not the pact-seeking that makes Solomon so strange, even if he is singularly annoying in his persistence about it. Plenty of humans have sought similar with the infamous fallen angel. He’s not even the only among them to try to use trickery or magic to force the demon’s hand.

No, Solomon is strange because, of all those humans, he is the most alarmingly devious, wicked human ever to have such a beautiful soul.

“Someone pure, genuine, and worthy of respect. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but demons are most attracted to the souls of people like that,” Lucifer had once told you.

The sorcerer as he knows him is none of those things. Lucifer is very familiar with the immortal’s reputation and history, and none of it could be described as pure. Rather than genuine, the man is unforthcoming at best and outright deceptive at worst. Any respect he has earned usually comes mostly from raw power, and most of that comes from the sheer number of pacts he’s accumulated, along with the Ring of Wisdom that Michael gifted him so very long ago. And then there’s the matter of his many past transgressions against demonkind...

Yet, despite this, Solomon’s soul sparkles brilliantly every time Lucifer sees him. It’s shocking how radiant it is, in fact. He’s hardly ever seen anything like it. The way it shines speaks to a level of purity and nobility of spirit beyond almost any other. And he smiles that carefree, nonchalant smile, an expression that would almost seem like he’s exactly what his soul says he is, even as he tries to solicit a pact from the demon, day after day, year after year.

But Lucifer knows better. Solomon is not pure or genuine. He is not as innocent as he plays at being. He is a dangerous person, and he is not to be trifled with.

The dissonance is unsettling, and for that, Lucifer does not trust him.

Granted, if a demon were to choose any human to make a pact with, Solomon would certainly be at the top of most any demon’s list. It’s true that a pact with that most powerful human sorcerer ever to live can lend one a certain degree of status in the Devildom. He has a reputation for only bothering with demons whose power he deems interesting enough to be worthwhile. And those who do forge such agreements with him revel in the amount of raw magic that he channels through them, when they are called upon.

Any other demon might have given in and made that pact a long time ago already. Rather, many already had – Lucifer’s own younger brother among them, to his chagrin.

But the Avatar of Pride is decidedly not looking for a human with whom to form a pact. He has had little interest in forging a pact with any human, ever. He’s made one exception recently, for you, and it’s his only one since becoming a demon. He doesn’t intend to make another. And certainly not with that particular human.

So, time after time, Solomon asks him again. And, time after time, Lucifer remains ever firm in his refusal.

Thirteen

It’s a real shame, Thirteen thinks.

The sight of his soul, the first time, is still clear in her memories. The way it sparkled when the moonlight hit him -- she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it. It was bright, and brilliant, like the rainbows refracted off of the most incredible diamond, but also so much more than even that. No image could ever capture it; no words would ever be enough to describe it. Candy had thought she was delusional when she’d tried to tell her about it afterwards. But it was no delusion. His soul really was just that incredible.

It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and nothing she’d seen since – at least, not until very recently.

And, to Thirteen’s disappointment, it doesn’t sparkle that way anymore.

That isn’t to say she doesn’t want it anymore, of course. It’s still one of the most captivatingly stunning souls she’s ever come across, and she’s not going to give up on having it. She’s been this patient thus far; she’ll keep trying, however long it might take.

Still...it really is a shame.

She misses the way Solomon used to be. These days, he’s so serious, even as he hides it behind a demeanor so cheerful it borders on idiocy.

Back then, he was different. He’d been more innocent by far, for one thing. She remembers the sight of that child hidden away in the basement, staring up at her through the lattice of that half-underground window. His life hadn’t been exactly easy up to that point, but his world back then had been so much smaller. He hadn’t been caught up in all these otherworldly conflicts, concerned with balances of power and the fate of humanity caught between them. No, back at that time, his magic still felt like a miracle to him, and even if it hadn’t been nearly so impressive back then, he’d had a simple sense of wonder and pride at each little feat he managed to perform.

His soul had been so perfectly pure back then, unclouded, unshaded. There had been such honest terror in the shriek he’d let out, and it had been so cute from that little kid that she couldn’t help but tease him a little, even as she’d tried to reassure him that she wasn’t his enemy.

She’d meant it then, and she means it still. Even as she tries time after time to capture his soul, and for all the many ways he’s annoyed her century after century, she holds no actual ill will towards the sorcerer. In a way, frustrating as it is to have her traps constantly fail against him, it’s a fun game of sorts for her too. He’s more than worthy as a target. She’s been waiting for the day his name shows up in the reaper’s list, but at this point, would taking his soul without a challenge even be satisfying?

So he entertains her tricks, and she plays at capturing him, and in the times in between, he calls her a friend -- one of his only friends, perhaps. He trusts her, with a strength of heart that only someone with such a brilliantly polished soul could.

She is not his enemy.

Someday, though. Someday, she’ll claim that sparkling soul of his. Even if it takes until the end of eternity, she’ll never give up on it.

For that man’s soul, it’s worth it. That’s just how valuable it is.

Barbatos

It was a delicious expression on Solomon’s face, that first day the two of them met -- shock, fear, desperation, shame. A delectable mix of all humanity’s basest, heaviest emotions.

To his great disappointment, Barbatos has never seen it again.

The reaper, among their cohorts, blames him for how the sorcerer’s soul changed, so many lifetimes ago; he is well aware of that. And he does not deny it -- it's true that Solomon is no longer the same as he once was. That may well be because of his influence.

Perhaps he did spoil him, back then, this fascinating human that he’d decided to take in and save from the encroaching grip of mortality. It had come about by a simple curiosity, mixed with a knowledge that few others had the privilege of being able to see. This human, a mere mortal on the verge of death, had been powerful enough to summon a demon as fabled as him without yet having a pact or bond in any way, and Barbatos could already foretell that this reckless earthly soul would someday have a pact with him who freely manipulated time at will. He knew this sorcerer would have quite the sway on the fate of the three worlds someday, and he was terribly interested in knowing how such a frail being would accomplish such a thing.

So Barbatos had taken Solomon to the Fountain of Knowledge, assigned him its guardianship, cared for him until he’d regained his health, and then made the pact he knew they were meant to have. He did show Solomon a wide expanse of alternate worlds and times, of futures and histories that the human could not have even dreamed. All of it was still nothing compared to what Barbatos himself has seen of the infinite. But it was far, far more than any human should have any right to know.

If that’s why Solomon is the way he is now, so be it.

But Barbatos isn’t so certain that’s exactly the case.

He knows who Solomon is, more deeply than probably anyone else the sorcerer has ever known. Few things can be kept secret from a demon who can see across all of time and space. He has seen Solomon at his best, at his worst, and most times in between. He has held both deep affection for and deep grudges against the man.

At the end of all of it, Solomon is who he is. He is exactly who he has always been meant to be. Barbatos has never tried to turn him into anything else.

One of the reasons Solomon’s soul shines so brightly, in his opinion, is probably that insatiable curiosity that he has. The sorcerer does not settle for things as they are; he wants to see things as they could be -- good or bad.

Solomon was the one to ask Barbatos to show him those deepest of horrors, dredged out of the abyss of possibility. “I’ve read through the books in the Fountain of Knowledge,” he’d announced, “almost every one of them. But knowing those things from books isn’t the same as knowing them. I need to see it, experience it, for myself, so I can be prepared for anything. Will you do that for me, Barbatos?”

Barbatos had simply obliged. He is, after all, the one who had brought Solomon to that place, so very long ago. It had been no surprise that the sorcerer had gone on to research what was available there, especially considering how long it took to restore him to health. He wasn’t going to deny the human’s request after already giving him that much.

And as the man himself had said, he would need to be prepared. He did need it, if he was going to fulfill the futures Barbatos had foreseen for him -- futures where Solomon would work towards pursuing the goals he has been so dogged about for an eternity now.

But that is simply who Solomon is. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with Barbatos keeping him sheltered and uninvolved, powerless in that perpetual battle between the other realms. He knew what he was asking for, and he wanted it anyway. He’s never regretted that request to Barbatos, and the demon doesn’t regret granting it.

So maybe Thirteen is right. Maybe it is Barbatos’s fault that Solomon’s soul is the way it is now. Maybe he did show the man too much, maddened his soul, corrupted him somehow. He is a demon, after all.

But Solomon doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does he.

Solomon

The sorcerer, like any human, has never been able to see his own soul.

He has, however, heard plenty said about it, by the many unearthly beings he calls company. Fascinated lesser demons have noted to him over the centuries that it is quite impressive, greed dripping from their tongues in hopes of taking it for their own.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, has never been particularly interested, occasionally quipping that if souls are like gems, he’s “not interested in lab-grown,” before ribbing the sorcerer over whether it’s even actually a human soul anymore.

Thirteen has lamented many a time how his soul doesn’t sparkle the same way it used to, a remark he usually just shrugs off. After all, what can he say in response? He has no control over the exact way that it sparkles, nor any particular interest in doing so specially for his reaper friend’s appeal anyway.

Barbatos, for his part, is quite neutral about it. “Your soul is hardly the most interesting thing about you,” the butler tells him.

Solomon is inclined to agree. Even if he can’t see souls in the same way they can, what does it matter? He knows who he is. He knows who he has been, where he came from, and what he has become. It is inescapable, in fact, even as his reflection in the mirror shows none of that change.

A reflection that, unchangingly, shows him what he has always been -- human.

They say he doesn’t really count as a human, that he can hardly even be considered human anymore at this point. And it hurts a little, he has to admit. He is still just as human as he has ever been, in his opinion, and it is only the others’ own condescending pity of humans that makes them think otherwise. They think he is not human because he has power, and no human could be so powerful. Despite his best efforts to show the potential of humans, they simply discount his own humanity instead.

His soul is proof. It’s not right. For being such a shining soul, the nobility of his heart is warped. It’s tainted by some strange shade, maddened by some unnatural force.

But he would say that unnatural force comes from the very ones who deny him his humanity. For thousands upon thousands of years, has his mission not been noble? Defending humanity’s right to be an equal, independent existence against the heavenly and demonic realms which seek to exert their influence is certainly a noble goal which has given him quite the strength of soul to resist them. Is it his fault that it required him to become so cunning and guarded to achieve that goal?

Any human who could see and experience what he has would be the same, he thinks -- if only any other human could indeed. It is, perhaps, the very loneliness of it that twists him further. He wouldn’t wish those struggles upon anyone, not truly, but he has long felt the weight of carrying this burden alone.

Then, you came along.

Falling in love with you is a little like seeing his younger self for the first time.

You are you, of course. You are not him, not a past version of him, not a thing simply to project onto. He knows that, and he would never try to make you someone you are not. But you are familiar in ways that feel almost nostalgic.

You still have an innocence, like he used to have. Not that you’re naive -- you know well enough how to handle those brothers by now, and you have certainly gained that ability to resist demons as Lucifer once instructed you to. But unlike most, you had a unique chance to earn the respect of those around you; the brothers have a true affection and camaraderie with you that most humans never have the chance to get. The Celestial Realm, too, first came to know of your existence as powerful before they really knew you.

They recognize you as an equal. And that gives you a chance to seek the same mission he has had all this time, from a more even starting point -- at least, if you want to. Or to seek anything else you’d like.

You have that kind of spirit, that he believes in whatever path you choose. Even without the power to see souls as they sparkle, he can see there is something special in you. Something he wants to protect, something he wants to nurture and see grow.

Something that he needs to protect, if the forces who twisted him are now threatening to involve you too.

You

Of course Solomon is a little weird, you think. He’s a human who has existed in this world of demons, magic, angels, sorcerers, witches, and everything else, for longer than any human rightfully should have existed at all.

But at this point, aren’t you a little weird, too?

You laugh it off the first few times they say it -- that it’s debatable whether he even counts as human anymore. It’s true, you think. An immortal, powerful sorcerer who has seen everything you’ve ever learned about history and more, with a reputation of being more demonic than most demons themselves? Yeah, you’ve never met any human quite like him.

The longer it goes on, though, the more that opinion changes.

With the brothers affectionately surrounding you, chattering away amongst themselves, they make that remark again, and a small part of you starts to wonder what exactly they mean by it.

What’s so inhuman about him?

He may be deviously clever, but is it really so strange to think that humans might have their schemes sometimes? It’s rampant throughout the human world.

His age is beyond comprehension, but it turns out that plenty of human witches bargain with demons to extend their lives. You’ve started considering it too, if you’re being honest.

He is powerful, the most powerful human ever to live -- except, so are you now.

You start thinking, more and more, that the two of you aren’t actually quite so unalike.

If they think he’s not human anymore, how long until they think the same of you?

So you mention it to him one day, just as a passing comment, during your training together. You didn’t mean much by it, but he frowns, and he ends training for the day, and he takes you to a café, just so you can chat about it a little more. And you didn’t mean to complain, but you end up talking about it and all your other worries and stresses over this whole exchange student turned sorcerer deal for what turns into hours.

He's vague, and evasive about any follow-up questions, but he tells you a little about some of his worries too.

You realize you didn’t really know him all that well before. You start to get to know him better.

When you start talking to him after that, really talking and having real conversations, it’s refreshing in a way. You tell him mundane little stories about your life before all of this -- about your parents, your friends, old anecdotes of how you grew up. You tell him about the things you used to do and your worries about how you’ve become so disconnected from all of that now. And he understands. He listens with a knowing sort of care that none of the others quite have. They do listen to you, of course, but everyday human life is as abstract to them as this world used to be to you. Human life, compared to their own realms, seems so small and inconsequential.

Not to Solomon, though.

As you talk to him, you realize, without a shadow of a doubt, that he remembers. The human world has changed over time, and so has he, but he still remembers what it was like. He still sees things as a human does, no matter how long he’s been surrounded by all this. He asks you all about the human world nowadays, like a house he used to live in, where new owners have come in, and the walls have been repainted, and none of the furniture is arranged how it was before.

Even so, it still feels like home to him. And talking about it feels like home to you.

You don’t really know what they all mean, when the others talk about souls being sparkly or polishing yourself so yours becomes shiny.

Apparently, you sparkle. Apparently, so does he.

But does it matter? Does it matter how all these otherworldly beings judge the worth of a human soul?

What you know is this:

You are human. And so is he.

[crystallizsch]

The First Kiss (?)

yuusha tala x jamil viper (oc x canon) word count: 800+ cw: pure angst

(awajkjfsdkjl omg some writing reveal about their relationship dynamic? 😳 ALSO THIS ENDED UP BEING LONGER THAN INTENDED AAHH and there are bound to be typos in here but uhhh anyways—)

At last, they found themselves alone, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the calm evening air.

Yuu smiled and raised her bare hands to cup Jamil’s cheeks gently. It was rare for the prefect to have her gloves off. So Jamil’s face heated up at the touch.

“Haha. Your face is warm, Jamil.”

“Whose fault is that I wonder?”

“Couldn’t be me.”

They joked, feeling their breathy giggles against one another and realizing their lips were almost touching.

Was this… Was this finally the moment?

Sure, she was already incredibly lax with him before — being affectionately touchy with him and constantly giving him quick and casual kisses on the cheek (as she does with basically her closest friends). But they seemed to have become close in a way that was more than Yuu’s “overly friendly” nature.

So what about a kiss on the lips?

A sudden wave of uncertainty hit the magicless prefect. Her hands dejectedly slid back down Jamil’s chest as they curled into fists.

The implications of a first kiss on the lips felt a lot heavier on her than she thought.

They have both been dancing around their feelings about one another. They both knew what they felt about one another and even made a show of teasing each other for it. But neither explicitly stated what those feelings even were.

Yuu felt much more guilty in that regard, considering her more than a flagrant expression of that affection toward him. One would think she was leading him on, but that was never the case.

And she really, truly liked him but—

Jamil tightened his arms around her waist when he felt the hesitation in her body. This subtle move caused Yuu to look deep into Jamil’s eyes again. Her heart squeezed at the sight of a soft and gentle look as she looked back with a distinctly sorry expression on her face.

It was bizarre that these were once the dangerous eyes that brought her pure hatred toward him. Now that they looked so kind and genuine, they admittedly felt more dangerous. How unfair.

“…..We don’t have to, you know,” Jamil said in a low voice. It sounded vague enough that even he did not know if he was only referring to them sharing a kiss or having a relationship overall. He also tried to be reassuring, but he was aware of the slightly sad and disappointed tone he let slip in his voice.

Yuu gulped and then felt her breath hitch in her throat. It was as if Jamil had read her mind.

Damn you, she wanted to say to him. At this point, she did not know what to say. Yuu felt like she was caught in a lie and wanted to prove him wrong. But she can’t. It wasn’t that she felt anything less for him; she simply felt conflicted about finally sealing her feelings with a kiss. The prefect just wasn’t ready. She doesn’t know when she will be. And she did not want to admit that.

Meanwhile, Jamil was relatively ready to receive that kiss. Of course, he would not say that out loud. From his perspective, Yuu would have to act first if there was truly something more to their relationship. But it seems like today was still not that day.

“I’m sorry…” Yuu whispered under her breath.

Jamil did not answer. Instead, he gave a quick peck on the prefect’s nose, which caused her face to flush. She quickly buried her face on his shoulder with a shaky sigh, her hands gripping his clothing. The vice housewarden half-heartedly laughed at her reaction as he snaked his hands higher around Yuu’s back, giving her a gentle hug instead.

There were no words exchanged between them for a period of time. They simply rested in each other’s embrace.

Still, this indeterminate name to their relationship weighed heavily on both of them.

Jamil couldn’t even say that he would wait for her. Because that would be a lie. As painful as that realization may be, he knows he wouldn’t. Why would he? Yuu repeatedly expressed her homesickness anyway.

Besides, Jamil was used to it. All good things were never permanent. That was what he was telling himself at least... Somehow this time, it was getting harder and harder to convince himself that he could simply accept losing something — her specifically.

And for Yuu’s part, she was also aware of this — that she knows she’ll be leaving all of this behind one day. The prefect had her own plans for the future, and she assumed that the vice housewarden would have his own.

There was no point in committing to anything. Because if they dare even act upon their true feelings, or heavens forbid say it out loud, it will make the inevitable separation even harder.

this was the vibe when i was writing this btw hgffjhklj

[inbarfink]

So here is a thing that I noticed going over the sort of weird expressions that Zim uses in canon. When Zim doesn’t know the human term for something, he will make up some bizarre word combination of his own… but he will hardly ever substitute an Irken term for it. You know, when he first comes to Earth, he doesn’t call Human children ‘smeets’, he calls them ‘worm-babies’. He doesn’t assume the Earth is controlled by a Tallest, he just calls President Man ‘the Earth Leader’. 

And that… makes sense, Irk is a spacefaring empire which clearly had contact with other alien civilizations for a very long time. Zim would have some frame of reference to know that, for example, Vortians don’t call their children ‘Smeets’ and therefore he has no reason to assume the distant alien planet he just landed on would use that term either. I mean, yeah, Zim is often irrational - but that’s one point where he is surprisingly reasonable…. Well, until he needs to think up what he assumes the proper inconspicuous earth term would likely be and comes up with the most ludicrous option available.

And sometimes, and especially later on in the series, it’s clear that he does know what the Correct Earth Term is but is just looking for an excuse to insult humanity again by using a derogatory term he made up. 

And, like, you know… yeah, it is actually kinda obvious why he wouldn’t use the Irken term in that context. He thinks Irkens are inherently superior to humanity. Calling human children ‘Smeets’ would be comparing them to Irken children which would be a compliment to the ‘filthy humans’ that he would not be able to stomach. And like, I know a lot of ‘Alien Among Us’ stories get a lot of their comedy from, y’know, cultural differences and assumptions clashing. But I would argue that while IZ does that sometimes, a lot of Invader Zim’s comedy is actually based on Zim’s immediately assuming Earth Culture has to be as alien to Irken Culture as possible, when they are actually not so different. 

But also I want to take a moment to address the one time where Zim does seemingly uses an Irken term for a human, and that’s when he address the McMeaties clerk guy as ‘Burger Lord’ in ‘Germs’4

Which is probably related to the Irken title for a high-ranking frycook being ‘Frylord’.

But that actually makes sense both in the sense of, like... this term is in use on Foodcourtia, and Foodcourtia, although clearly a part of the Irken Empire, is frequented by many different alien species. So due to the planet's importance as a galactic center for fast food, the term ‘Frylord’ and its derivatives have spread beyond the Irken Empire. Or maybe it was an alien term to begin with and it spread into Foodcourtia through its non-Irken customers. Whatever it is, Zim would at least have a reason to think this might be a universal term and not an Irken-specific thing.

And also, this is a rare occasion where Zim is kinda, like, trying to genuinely get on the good graces of a human and is treating human technology (SPACE MEAT) with an unusual amount of respect - and he just doesn’t really have the mental focus to start condescending to him right now. So kinda reflexively using an unusually respectful Irken term for a mere Human Fast Food Worker makes sense considering his emotional state. He’s probably too germ-panicked to remember he’s not supposed to remember his time in Foodcourtia as well. 

Like, yes, I am aware I am probably looking too deeply into the continuity of this one line. “Germs” and “The Frycook of What Came From All That Space” are so far apart in the timeline that the actual writers probably weren’t thinking about this, right? I just think it’s Cool that one can fit this little ‘Burger Lord’ detail so neatly and so consistently into the lore and with Zim’s characterization.