#i have no idea what the writing community on here uses anymore rip

[asterismneon]

12/19/22 Stream - Bonus! Completed Chapter Teasers

"Has GUARDHOUND found something interesting perhaps?"

"We shouldn't have this conversation on a digital platform."

[genericpuff]

Sorry but I think you’re being super negative about the whole “Rachel Presents” announcement.

Rick Riordan is a white author who is passionate about mythology. After Greek mythology and briefly going into egyptology, he used his influence to give People of color a chance to write modern mythology stories from their own culture and experiences—and most importantly he stayed in his lane.

I think Rachel choosing to step back and give other people a voice is a great outcome, considering you guys all joked about how horrific it would be if she tried to appropriate another culture in her next series.

You also said she should have given LO to another creator who had the passion and dicipline to finish for her. That’s ESSENTIALLY what she’s going to be doing with RP. Maybe her true calling is just…being an Idea guy. She has wonderful concepts and cool ideas, but lacks commitment. In this scenario, we could end up with super amazing stories, with proper editing from Random house and proper commitment from new creators. I don’t really see the issue here, everyone wins.

(And lots of authors do the whole “___ presents” format. I don’t think she deliberately copied RR. Most likely her books sales did well and Penguin House approached her with this offer.)

lmao what? I was against the folks saying she should give it to another creator. I don't think not liking the series should mean she's obligated to "give it to someone else." The series is hers and so it's her responsibility to finish it. I do think she should have ended it a long time ago or if she was really miserable making it then she should step away, but she shouldn't be giving it to someone else to finish for her just because "boo you suck at writing your own comic". She started this, she should finish it.

And this is literally her doing exactly that - appropriating other cultures - with extra steps. Just instead of being on the front lines with her own work, she's sponsoring other works based on her own bar for quality (which we know is EXTREMELY low) and slapping her name on them so she can take a "backseat". It's really icky to see from a creator who practically failed upwards and is now using "herself" as a selling point, when she has no real legitimacy outside of LO, which was only as successful as it was because of WT constantly sinking money into it and advertising it over other series on the platform (and because it's based off a story that was VERY popular to romanticize at the time, the H x P myth. Like it was literally what was popular on Tumblr when it started as a hobby comic on Tumblr.)

I'm outlining all of these posts with "speculation" because obviously I don't know what's really going on behind the scenes here, but I think it's really disingenuous of Rachel to sell herself as some top tier brand name for mythological works as a whole when she's caused so much actual harm to the Greek myth community and its sources. It's furthering the notion that she has any credibility as a "folklorist" when really she just pulls whatever comes off the front page of Google. And the similarities between herself and Rick Riordan do matter here because of how commonplace it is these days for Rachel to rip off other works rather than take inspiration and make it into something that's organically her own.

That's my two cents. It's not me trying to be "negative", it's me being genuinely concerned over the blatant appropriation from a white woman gaining even more control over the depictions of cultures and mythologies that she claims she's educated on and isn't. Unlike Rick Riordan, Rachel does not have any formal education in the subject she's claiming to be educated about. Unlike Rick Riordan, Rachel allows her fanbase to use her work as a source on Greek myth and she obfuscates the line between "fiction" and "fact". Rick Riordan started Rick Riordan Presents after he had multiple hits under his belt that were celebrated and loved. Rachel is starting Rachel Smythe Presents after a one hit wonder that could be chalked up to a total fluke that wasn't even able to go out with a bang.

Rick Riordan writes fictional stories inspired by Greek myth for children. Rachel is writing fictional stories claiming to be "retellings" of Greek myth - and now other mythologies if the implications of this project follow through - for adults. It's disingenuous and it frankly deserves to be paid attention to and called out.

I do genuinely want to see creators given an avenue to monetize their work and that's why I think the thought of it is nice, but any amount of further digging just makes this feel like a grift that will lead young and inexperienced creators down a path that won't benefit them (or take advantage of them) due to the blatant lack of care and management exhibited by Rachel over the past 5 years. Just because Rachel had one massive hit that lined her pockets for years does NOT qualify her to be a titan of the industry. Not by a long shot.

To quote Super Eyepatch Wolf,

"Let's say you decide you want to become a carpenter, and particularly, how to build a nice chair. Think about the kind of person you'd want to learn that skill from - would it be from someone who's built nice chairs every day for 30 years, or would it be the guy who built ONE nice chair 5 years ago out of a special kind of wood that doesn't exist anymore, who has NO experience with the kind of wood available to you now?"

EDIT to add: it was more likely Rachel's representative, Britt Seiss who landed this deal for her, not Penguin House themselves. That's what agents are for.

EDIT EDIT: this is ALL assuming she even FOLLOWS THROUGH with this project, because god knows the only reason LO has even gone on as long as it has was because she was being held responsible via a contract, she's NOTORIOUSLY bad for committing to things and has even admitted to it in interviews. She barely even works on LO as it is. Spring of 2024 could roll around and this project could entirely fizzle out. Again, not me trying to be a negative nancy here, I'm just stating my own concerns based on what we all know about Rachel at this point and how she operates.

[a-student-out-of-time]

//Hey everyone, Mod Bubbles here.

//I come to you today with some more real talk, the product of which is kinda heavy but also really important, especially for this time of year. It's about mental health, bad relationships, and toxicity, so if you'd rather skip it, I understand.

//But I wanna talk about this because it concerns a piece of media Timeline Anon brought to my attention, which has been going around lately (at the time of this writing) with a really damaging message. I wanna make it clear why it's wrong and you shouldn't pay it any heed.

//This one goes out to everyone with rejection sensitivity and fears about how others perceive them. You guys are actually cool.

//The media in question is a controversial comic called "Communication is Key", which...I mean, I frankly don't want to get into anything about who wrote it or why, I just want to focus on what the comic itself is about.

//It's one of those simplistic comics that's supposed to teach a life lesson. In this case, Green and Red are having a discussion about Red's behavior and how they've been avoiding Green because they're concerned about their friendship, worrying that they're coming off as clingy or annoying, so they haven't brought it up. Green points out that they've had this conversation before and that just because they've had interactions like that in the past doesn't mean Green would act like that.

//...And then Green leaves, saying they can't be friends with Red anymore. Green says, after having this conversations over and over, they can't be bothered to deal with this "toxic" behavior and the lesson is supposed to be that some people are too much to deal with and it's not your responsibility to change them.

//Twitter proceeded to rip into the comic's horrible presentation and message. And for once, I completely agree with that. I'm gonna count the ways in which this comic is awful.

Green and Red don't even feel like friends here. It doesn't showcase any kindness or empathy, no believable humanity and nothing about why they even became friends in the first place. It just showcases Green's resentment with Red's problems and then expects us to side with them because it causes Green issues.

Red's "toxicity" instead feels like serious rejection sensitivity, social anxiety, intrusive thoughts, depression or some other serious mental health problem. That isn't a toxic behavior, it's a problem that requires understanding and empathy.

If someone is avoiding you because they're worried you find them annoying/clingy/toxic, the proper response to ask why they feel that way and not assume it's an intrinsic part of their nature. Nobody WANTS to have these problems, nobody asked for them to happen and nobody wants to have their friends leave them. Sometimes it's just a case of showing them empathy.

If you are this person and someone responds to your concerns about being annoying/clingy/toxic by saying "Yeah, you're right," and then leaving, you are better off without them in your life. They are the toxic jerk, not you.

While the idea of "you are not responsible for someone else's happiness" is correct, Green here has taken it to mean that you bear no responsibility for helping people you consider friends with anything. That is the epitome of toxic behavior, being a fair weather friend who's only around when things are easy and peaceing out when things get tough. Friendship is a two-way street and the people involved both should work to maintain it; having only one maintain it and the other benefits while giving nothing in return isn't friendship. That's more like parasitism.

Green's position is that Red should be the one to communicate, but at no point does Green suggest any alternative solutions like therapy, offer suggestions about Red changing their behavior on their own terms, or even offer sympathy for falling back into bad habits. No, Green simply cuts them off because it's too much for them to deal with, which is not only incredibly selfish, it's one of the most damaging things you could do to someone with rejection sensitivity.

People with these problems who avoid you or try to cut off their relationships out of nowhere are not being toxic, seeking approval or trying to manipulate you. They're often experiencing real fear and real concerns about how you view them, and so may be avoiding you because it's the only way they feel they can maintain a sense of control over their lives. It's unheathy, but that's why it's better to approach the situation with sympathy and compassion, rather than immediately assuming they have bad intentions.

Toxic people are far easier to read than you may think. They make everything about themselves, put your desires and your concerns down, exploit your friendship for their personal gain, constantly try to guilt-trip you and make you feel like you're the one at fault, never take any responsibility for what they do and how it hurts you, and then cut you off when you're no longer useful or easy to exploit. In other words, exactly like Green.

Mental health problems do not make you toxic or a bad person. People with those problems are more often than not the victims of toxic and abusive behavior, not the perpetrators. Mental illness gets used FAR too casually to refer to behaviors people don't like or find strange, rather than what they actually are: problems that some people have that do not define their entire character. They're people in just as much need of compassion and sympathy as everyone else.

I really don't know what else to say about this comic's terrible message other than that you should care about other human beings as more than just resources. They're people just like you, with their own lives, dreams, hopes, wishes, desires, fears, concerns, weaknesses and flaws. If you wouldn't want someone to treat you horribly, you really shouldn't do the same to someone else. That's something you should've learned in kindergarten.

//This comic's message is supposed to be that it's better for Green to cut toxic people out of their life, and instead the message people took away from it was that Red needs better friends. They are correct in that assessment.

//I have friends who used to act exactly like Red does, and contrary to what the author thinks, they can change and they can unlearn their unhealthy behaviors. It takes kindness, compassion, persistence and understanding, not to mention reinforcing all the good times you have with them and emphasizing those over pointing out how their problems make your life harder.

//I promise you, whatever problems someone else's mental health issues might cause you, the problems it causes them are far worse. Abandoning someone who's afraid of abandonment is not only cruel and hurtful, it will make their problems even harder to deal with by reinforcing everything they were afraid of.

//I sincerely hope the creator of that comic grows up and learns the importance of compassion over selfishness.

//And to everyone who struggles with these issues, I promise you, people like this don't deserve to be a part of your life and nothing they say about you is right. You are worth so much more than that and you do deserve to have good things in your lives.

//The people worth having around are the ones who acknowledge your flaws while emphasizing your strengths. They're the people who want to help you grow out of your issues and be a better version of yourself. And if you have the misfortune of encountering people who cut you off like Green, you can at least try and take the lesson of what to look out for in toxic people to heart.

//People are kinder and more understanding than they're given credit for, and you can and should be that kind of person for yourself too. Show yourself compassion when you need it and understand where you might've gone wrong, rather than constantly punishing yourself for every mistake. It's better for everyone, especially yourself.

//Things have been hard for me this year, but I've had a lot of great friends who've helped get me through it and I wish the same for everyone reading this.

//Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone ^^

[lulu2992]

Before things got better, they momentarily got worse…

(Although more violent things happen or have happened in Far Cry 5, I felt this needed a Mature Community Label, just to be safe)

Chronologically, this is the first time my Deputy Taylor’s story (you know, the one I’ll never fully write) really diverges from canon. This is also the least pleasant thing that happened between her and the Baptist.

Context and explanation under the cut:

While John is busy taking Hudson back to her “room”, Taylor manages to grab a knife in his toolbox (with her teeth) and to cut the ropes around her wrists. She considers leaving the Confession room to go look for her colleague, as we do in the game, but she quickly realizes that not only has she no idea where Hudson is, but that trying to find her way through an unknown, presumably huge bunker filled with cultists also isn’t the best idea. Instead, since the chair is still intact in this scenario, she decides to sit down, hold the ropes around her wrists to make it look like she’s still tied up, and wait for John to arrive so she can ask him where Hudson is… and maybe tie him up and steal his key, while she’s at it.

When he comes back, he seems relieved that she’s still here, and he politely (but not without a hint of irony) thanks her for her patience. She tenses when his eyes linger on the ropes for a few seconds, but he then simply smiles at her and asks if she’s ready to Confess her sins. She shrugs and replies that she doesn’t really have a choice.

“Very well,” he says. “But before we begin…”

He comes closer and leans over her, placing his hands on the ropes around her wrists.

“…did you really think that I wouldn’t notice?”

At this point, he’s not smiling anymore. Feeling suddenly cornered and in danger, Taylor pushes him over using her feet and a fight ensues, during which they mostly try to subdue (and not kill) each other. He’s a more powerful opponent than she expected him to be, partly because he’s absolutely furious that she “betrayed” him, and anger makes him stronger. At one point, he even manages to overpower her and, in pure rage, puts his hands around her neck.

A few seconds later, the Deputy’s survival instinct will cause her to deal a powerful blow to the Baptist’s left cheek, effectively knocking him out.

Taylor was wearing a t-shirt when she woke up in the bunker, but it was ripped open by John, as it is in the game, and she lost what was left of it in the fight. She even briefly used it as a “weapon” to try to make him lose his balance. That said, I want to stress that this scene isn’t supposed to look sexy, and they were too busy fighting to really pay attention to that anyway. John also lost his glasses that day, as you can see on the right of the picture.

I don’t know if you noticed the bruises on Taylor’s neck, on her knuckles, and on John’s cheek here, but if you did, that explains them.

Later in the story, when their Wrath has considerably subsided and their relationship has positively evolved, they will get to talk about this incident again so they can move forward together. Acknowledging your past helps you build a better future.

[galionne-speeding]

Hi! At the time of writing this ask, AO3 is still down, so I decided to put some headcanons for your Pantheon AU in here. If you like them, please feel free to use them. If you don’t like them or the reasoning behind them, please let me know why so I don’t continue misinterpreting them in my head.

Boreas:

When you’re going to do something incredibly stupid, he’ll tell you it’s stupid, but he won’t stop you if you decide to do it anyway. (He seems like the type of person who has seen so much idiocy that he’s numb to it.)

Piia:

They actually weren’t too mad at the kid who tricked them into trapping themselves in a mirror. They were very impressed that someone actually outwitted them, especially since it was a fellow kid. (I have a hunch that it was the adults’ idea to sacrifice Piia, and as such, they didn’t target other kids with their tricks and pranks.)

Zeutaros:

May or may not be an ancestor of Zavok. Assuming that he gets disconnected from the emerald’s power and he manages to calm down, he will hang around Zavok a lot, trying to “parent” him, much to Zik’s annoyance. (Zeutaros has horns shaped like Zavok’s, and the two have very similar builds. Also, the thought of a ripped hulking creature arguing with a tiny old man about how to raise a kid is… amusing, to say the least. Especially when you realize that Zik is easily puntable by someone like Zeutaros.)

Mother Agnes:

Overprotective parental figure, who put the children under her care into that comatose state to “protect” them from the outside world. (It just seems like a quality she would have, especially if the emerald messed with her mind.)

Malda:

The embodiment of “You either earn my respect or get off my lawn.” (Cranky hermit.)

Occasionally bleps. (Frog.)

Desíré:

Spoiled as heck. Will not accept anything considered “the stuff of simpletons”. (Prince stuff.)

Manas:

Will scam you once he learns what scamming is. (He just has that air about him.)

All the Pantheon:

Severely time-displaced and will probably wreck numerous things as they figure out how modern amenities work.

Oh wow, hello! Thank you for writing, I think this is the first time someone has sent me their headcanons for my OCs and I must say, this is awesome! It's so cool to see other people's interpretation of them!

Quite a few of these headcanons are pretty spot on too

Boreas Correct! He has no interest in stopping anyone from getting in trouble (unless there's a chance their stupidity might affect him). This isn't out of malice- after losing his entire tribe he's become numb to people in general. He doesn't form bonds with others anymore and has stopped caring about pretty much anyone and anything.

Piia The child who sealed them away is probably one of the only individuals Piia doesn't have a vendetta against. They were more angry at themselves for being tricked than anything else. Sacrificing villagers to the moutain was a common occurence where Piia lived, although the children were typically kept out of the loop. Being albino, Piia was considered a particularly valuable sacrifice. Their primary target for their vengeance is indeed adults (and older teens) ; however if a kid is nearby or even caught in the crossfire… That is not a reason for them to stop.

Zeutaros Bingo! This was the idea when designing him (a little too obvious but oh well). He's Zavok's great(x40) grampa ; although because I kept going back and forth on this it's not actually that important to the overall story. I was also originally going to give him power over both fire and electricity as well ; but I decided to focus on the latter for. Story reasons. As for caring for Zavok… That is unfortunately very much not the case. I have a lot of headcanons about Zeti and the Lost Hex ; one of them being that warrior packs like the Deadly Six make up only a tiny tiny portion of the population on the Hex. The majority of Zeti nowadays are farmers and artisans living in small communities, relying on the warriors for protection in exchange of food. Back when Zeutaros was (first) alive however, things were much the opposite. Warriors ruled the Hex and those who couldn't fight back were either killed or made to serve them. Zeutaros in particular was known to slaughter those he considered weak with little remorse- which is why the Deadly Six allied themselves with Sonic & Co. Because they know this guy would have no issue killing them and then everyone on the Hex if he ever makes his way back up there. Oh also yeah, the Emerald gives him power but has no impact on his psyche. He's just like that.

Mother Agnes Overprotective in the worst way possible. She suffered a lot in her youth and always wished someone would have taken her away from that suffering ; that she could have escaped it all. As an adult she views the world as inherantly evil- and children to be too pure and gentle to be a part of it. She projects all of her past trauma onto them and believes the best for them is to never have to face anything upsetting, ever. Hence putting them in a permanent sleep where she believes nothing can ever harm them.

Malda Deep down she's a kind old lady ; always was until she was you know, drowned for crimes she never committed. She's still got some of that kindness in her but yeah, if she doesn't like you you are not welcome.

Désiré Well, yes and no. They were very much spoiled in the material sense ; jewelry and good food and expensive robes… But they never felt truly loved- much less accepted. Désiré is the name they chose for themself. It was never uttered by anyone else in their family. To them they were always Raaj, their heir who was throwing a petty tantrum and would come around eventually to his princely duties. Désiré could easily be convinced to give up the riches for a more simple life where they can feel loved. Just give them some time to get used to it.

Manas Oh absolutely, yes. Scamming's his game and all he needs is a few gullible individuals to get started.

All The Pantheon I need to make a timeline for when all these guys were alive. Mother Agnes would be the closest to present time (think the Sonic equivalent of the 1920s) and Zeutaros the furthest away (roughly early Iron Age). So yeah, lots of tech getting completely wrecked with these guys around.

[valeofpoppies]

hey!

you are very skilled with 3D art and game development, and i am also somewhat trying to get into it as a hobby (blender + godot rn).

can i ask how you learned to make 3D art? i am hoping that knowing how others learned will help me find ways to learn.

i know the basics of blender, but i really do need to learn how to get past the basics.

Hello! I appreciate you taking the time to write this. This is a question that requires some introspection and would be a good topic for future posts. However, here's the best summarization of my experience learning 3D:

I started doing 3D while I was a teenager. I downloaded a free version of 3D Coat so I could sculpt faces for fun. I barely had any idea how to manage topology then, so my workflow was very destructive (I made a lot of meshes with holes, clipping faces, bumps, no edge flow, etc.)

I revisited 3D during my years in college, when I took a couple of free courses on Lynda(dot)com on how to model in Maya (for which I had a student license for). They were really basic tutorials, but they helped me adopt better practices for modeling (like maintaining decent edge flow, how to use modifiers, how to use drivers, etc).

I began to learn how to rig in Maya until the pandemic hit in 2020, which happened to be the same year I would graduate. I wanted to pursue 3D further after college, but I knew my student license for Maya would eventually expire (and I didn't have enough money coming in to pay a monthly subscription) so I decided to switch to using Blender because it is open-source.

I learned to navigate Blender through a whole lot of popular dedicated Youtube channels (like CGCookie, BlenderGuru, Ducky 3D, and many others...) It did indeed help that I had prior experience with modeling software so I could look up what I needed to know then. I didn't get to using Blender for game dev until a year later, when I came across a whole bunch of game artists and mod-makers across various platforms (twitter, tumblr, steam, discord). The point in which I began to join communities dedicated to making game art/modding is where I experienced the most growth because I wasn't interpreting online tutorials by myself anymore, I was communicating back and forth with other people about making art in general. I learned what tools other people were using, I learned how they functioned, I studied unique applications for those tools by studying other people's work, and it also helped me find new leads for study.

A practice I adopted that I found very useful is pastiching models from other games. If I wanted to get better at creating topology, I would import a ripped model from a game that I liked, studied its wireframe, and attempted to recreate that style by creating a unique model. It is derivative, but in the process you learn a lot of unique applications of smoothing, edge sharpening, normal rotation, masking and texturing that could be useful for formulating a style of one's own.

There's a lot that goes into the learning process. For me, it is like undoing a jacket by the threads. The more you pull the threads apart, the more noticeable it becomes how its all woven and stitched together. Once you've taken apart the whole thing, you get an idea as to how it was put together in the first place.

[xxwelxx]

I just realized something that will never let me live my life the same again.

It seems obvious saying now, but when I was growing up, it was always lost on me the implications of my grandfather being so adamant his grandchildren would be future doctors and architects.

Do you ever wonder why so many Palestinian children dream of, or were/are in the process of, becoming doctors? I’m sure many of you already know why that is. I do too, but I never connected it to my upbringing and how I was encouraged to pursue my life.

Growing up, my grandfather would plant little seeds of ideas the same way most adults would. And I, like most children, would brush these ideas off as just a suggestion, “they don’t know me that much,” etc.

I was told to become a doctor a handful of times, but not as much as my cousin. This is because one day the adults in my life started focusing more on my artistic abilities, how I like to draw (that was the extent of it in their eyes), and to my grandfather, that was enough to convince him I’d make a fine architect.

I wasn’t really a quiet kid, anytime I felt like I was pushed around too much I’d speak up. When I told my grandfather I didn’t want to become a doctor, he eventually started with the architect talk. Not wanting to be an architect either, I approached the situation in a similar way, hoping to get my point across more. To my surprise that never happened. Instead, the idea of becoming an architect was spread to my parents, as well as my extended family.

Now everyone was telling me to become an architect. I would get mad, of course I’d get mad. No one took the time to learn and understand what I want to do in my own life. I didn’t know either, but every turn I took seeking support and validation was met with an adult convinced I’d be of better use to society as an architect. I wasn’t able to grow my own passions until much later in life. I started resenting drawing.

My grandfather hated this the most. Both he and my parents would constantly ask to see my drawings, of which I had none. I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt like I was lost to them. The only defining trait they’ve assigned to me was no longer able to define what I do. The only thing that could have been my driving force towards studying architecture was seemingly vanished into thin air. They were weird about this.

My parents, sometimes even my aunts, but most of all my grandfather would tell me, “you don’t show me your art anymore,” I’d say it’s because I didn’t feel like drawing and haven’t in a while. His only words back to me every time were, “what a shame, you should get back to it.” I’d show them some of my older drawings they’d already seen before, but it was as if my grandfather was more focused on the fact that I wasn’t currently drawing. It never felt like anyone was meeting me at my level.

For years, I’d carry these memories heavy with contempt in my heart. From the comments I got here and there to Christmas cards dedicated to “future doctors and architects,” I never fully understood the situation, and thinking about it was painful.

Today, an hour ago (exactly to the minute at the time of writing this), I heard for what must have been the hundredth time in the past 7 months, that a Palestinian child was an aspiring doctor. I understood immediately why that would be the case. What took me more time to realize, was how all those reasons were cut from the same cloth of reasons my grandfather had to push us the way he did.

What took me even more time to realize, was why my grandfather was super adamant about architecture of all things. Though it didn’t take me too long to find the answer.

Rebuilding.

Rebuilding the homes you grew up to love and cherish, where you lived your lives, where you experienced so many firsts, lasts, the mundane, the exciting, ate with family, played with friends, been a part of a community that cared for each other.

Rebuilding the communities that people are trying so hard to rip away from you just to add a few extra bucks in their pockets.

Now it makes sense. My grandparents and parents both sacrificed and were forced to give up so much just for me to be where I am today, as safe as I can be. I haven’t experienced the brunt end of these things, yet they still bled their way into my upbringing.

I never saw what my parents did, what my grandparents experienced, but they still shaped them to shape me the way they did. To prepare me for things they went through in case I ever unfortunately found myself there too.

The old habits of necessity touch your life in a way that molds future generations how they may never begin to understand.

It wasn’t about the money or status like I always thought. It could have played a minor role in that regard, but a lot more jobs than just architecture and medicine get you money and status. It was about community. Keeping your community safe and stable. Helping your loved ones. Rebuilding your homes. All of which are seen as targets and playthings for the corruptly powerful.

I don’t know what pain and loss my grandfather went through, my family has always been very quiet about that (a bad idea that had lasting effects). But I can tell you now, if I experienced even a fraction of what he did, what all my grandparents and parents did, I would definitely be on the path to becoming that doctor or architect.

Although the amateurish methods they used would inflict trauma that could last a lifetime, from now on I will be looking at my memories of him with more grace. Hopefully that means with time, I’d be able to heal better as well.

I believe that my aspirations still align with this sense of protecting our community, even if it’s not like the career paths I had laid out in front of me. I haven’t been able to achieve much of it, but every step is a step forward, and I believe that one day it’ll all be worth it.

To put it simply, I want to make an impact. I have many messages to spread. Messages that could keep my community, and any other community out there a better place for people to be people. Messages I can spread in a multitude of different media. Messages I have been spreading to the people around me and in everything I do.

Cherish the communities you are a part of, improve them however you can, grow them and with them.

Thank you for reading.

-J

[biconicfinn]

every fucking break without fail a massive fight happens at home that reminds me that despite loving my father I don’t always like him. and that i wish more than anything sometimes that i could save my youngest brother from him. I also wish my parents would open their eyes to the fact that the boy is clearly very much neurodivergent and very much needs help but no one but me in this fucking house recognises that. i wish I didn’t have to leave him every time. I feel so guilty always. I wish I could take him with me or that I was staying here to take his pain on. My mom tried I guess but she (like with me) refuses to acknowledge his neurodivergence and the idea that any of her kids need help with their mental health. I wish my dad didn’t bring his hurt and anger and frustration from the office and his community work back home. I wish he didn’t just fucking channel it on whatever tiny thing sets him off which is usually either my youngest brother or my mom and yell. And like. My mom can fight back and go toe to toe without being accused of being disrespectful and not knowing her place but my brother can’t do that. And he’s still a fucking kid like he’s sixteen for gods sake of course he’s going to be a little rude and moody and whatever of course he’s not gonna want to go to bed at whatever time you set for him or do additional studying outside of homework and all that. I’m not saying those are good things but by god you need to break those rules anyway and learn from your own mistakes. And tonight not only did he have a go at my brother but he fully went off at my mom in front of us and my other brother had to step in and prevent another fight. The only reason I did not intervene tonight is because my mother warned me not to and I knew if I said or did anything it probably would have ended in violence. I still feel violent. The worst part is that some part of me knows he needs to hear me call him the fuck out. He needs to understand what he has done to his children. He needs to know that when I say that I am planning to come back home after I graduate I only want to come back to take up my place as my brothers shield again. I used to take the brunt of the bullshit as the problematic child. I used to be the one screamed at and the one who shouted back. I also need to make sure my baby brother doesn’t fall into the same dark places I did because the thought of him feeling about himself the way I feel about myself makes me want to scream and throw up and rip my heart out. my other brother will be better off if he’s not testing his temper and patience and he’ll be going off to the dorms in uni soon and for now he only comes home just basically to sleep and on the weekend anyway so he’ll be fine. He’s also physically much stronger than my dad and has grown up and also he’s not a fucking child so dad can’t get away with yelling at him. I don’t care anymore about his community work. I don’t care about the volunteering at temples or any of it. I don’t care anymore because what is the cost of it. What community work is worth the cost of him just fucking going off the deep end and losing sleep and going into fits of rage at the slightest provocation. What good is aiding the community if your own family walks on eggshells. Anyways im going to go write and feel my way out of this for now.

[robosucka]

(the OP of this post politely asked if i could say more about why I think it is stupid. I am happy to do so because I care deeply about this stuff and want people to have access to the better versions of the ideas Sam Kriss is ripping off for his substack, and also because if I saw Sam Kriss in the street i would rip his liver out with my teeth. Hi, Sam. Stay the fuck away from conventions or I'll kill you in real life.)

First, a condensing of his essay as I understand it. In 6,200 words Mr. Kriss makes the following points:

(1) we live Online but didn’t used to; we may not live Online in the future; the Internet brings us “low-res” ‘minimum viable products’ that guarantee happiness but never go past their minimum; that people agree that the fire hose of Online has “destroyed their attention spans”; (2) “there is nothing there” online; “pouty nineteen-year-old” “nymphets” found out I grope women and don’t like me anymore; people don’t write first novels anymore they’re writing second and third novels and I like those less; (3) petroleum is awesome; extractive capital is the only “real” form of growth; a strange assertion that nobody wanted to touch Saudi oil money; and finally the 2010′s canard: ‘data is the new oil’ (but NOT in an AI training corpus way, the only way that could possibly be true); social media is bad because of Islam (??); communicating online about social justice is inherently pointless because “our global miracle of psychic togetherness” (this is my phrase, in fairness, but also in fairness, I am an outsider artist with very sincere opinions about this stuff), he says that that miracle is fundamentally Saudi; “as if the entire terrain of combat wasn’t [sic] provided by a nightmare head-chopping theocratic state”. (?????)

He returns to sensible good ideas from other people, instead of his own half-remembered misquote of Cyclonopedia. He says hey, targeted ads don’t work (they don’t); web3 isn’t cool (it isn’t); “the ship’s rats” are “stripping the galley” as it sinks. That’s true, but it’s not even a complaint about media OR forms of communication, it’s a diagnosis of the vampires robbing everyone and calling themselves Private Equity Firms, he just sneaks it in there and hopes you won’t notice he’s run out of examples. Section (4) is totally incoherent; he’s mad at TV but blames the Internet; he’s mad at USAmerican politics but blames the Internet (instead of sensibly deciding to kill a Congressman with a brick); he’s mad that people know he’s a sex pest (and blames the Internet for letting them find out). He agrees with most people that the George Floyd protests did not fundamentally change America’s founding sins of racism and brutal violence (and, bizarrely, blames the Internet). In his shortest section, #5, ostensibly his thesis, he simply predicts that “[p]rint magazines will outlive Substack”. okay thanks so much let’s hit the bong real quick i love you for reading this

Here’s what’s wrong and who he’s ripping off. A lot of the time Mr. Kriss wants to complain about something a company does to people, but he gets mad at the people who decide to do it. “Short attention spans”, the uselessness of “the time you give over to the machine” - to him, this is your fault, is my fault, and he’s not at all interested in even figuring out whether or not any of it is Meta or Twitter or Alphabet’s fault (even though it’s mostly Meta or Twitter or Alphabet’s fault). He also says the only solution is that “there is still time to do something else[...] giving me[...]money” so that he can “create something that is not like the Internet”. “People claim to be deeply worried by this stuff, but I think you secretly like it”, he negs. Please subscribe to my Substack. Please give me money. I used to have subscribers and money and now I don't and I miss them both. Sections 1, 2, and 3, in these I think sam kriss is writing, y’know, hey I read some stuff and talked about it with smart people over drinks a couple years ago and here’s what I remember from that. He’s “right” in that he is repeating smart people smart ideas about the real world, but he’s ‘wrong’ in the ways he lacks their ability to contextualize those ideas. 3′s stress on oil dollars and Saudi petrocapital, one of the longer and more interesting ideas in the VERY LONG essay, is a ripoff of and sad misunderstanding of the stuff in Reza Negarestani’s Cyclonopedia, a book that a lot of people read the year it came out and which very few people have read since. Cyclonopedia is an impressive piece of literature about the sentience of oil and the petro-political ramifications we all live in. Negarestani is another one of those CCRU types like Nick Land (Fanged Noumena) and Mark Fisher (Flatline Constructs) who are mostly relevant for giving people like Richard Spencer zoom interview backdrops of a bookshelf. On BeReal: I use BeReal and Mr. Kriss obviously does not; he is mad about the way he assumes the app works, but it doesn’t work that way (you can post “lates” and my friends - we are in our 30s - normally do post “late” by an hour or two). He says man, these millenial women, they’re taking photos of the thing they’re doing at the time they’re supposed to take that photo, and they’re posting it on the app that tells them when to take that photo and what it should look like. and, again, just like social media, it’s still women’s fault for not writing novels instead. How progressive. The stuff about ‘cancel culture’ is so obviously just “sex pest mad people found out about him” that I won’t bother to discuss it but c’mon obviously that is stupid. right? Thanks!

[mortimermcmirestinks]

I love Twitter.

I love how it's full to bursting with so, so many artists, poets, essayists, and philosophers, all regularly checking, so if you shout out to the guy who wrote your favourite episode or the lady who drew your favourite picture, they might respond. if I draw a fanart of Ezri Dax right now and post it to twitter, there's a very good chance that Nicole DeBoer will see it and maybe even like or comment.

I hate Twitter.

I hate how the very structure, the bones of it, the muscles and sinew and code, all drive the conversation toward hatred and vitriol, because that's what sells. I hate how it rips apart anyone who goes there for parts, and I hate how it only shows you things that will make you angry because when you're angry, you're engaged.

I love TikTok.

I love the low barrier of entry for art. I could make a TikTok just for silly funsies and make a silly little joke and then immediately meet five hundred people who all laughed at my silly little joke. I love how easy it is to find and explore different ideas and stories and works of art, and I love how the rigid restrictions of form promote creativity in creation.

I hate TikTok.

I hate how it erodes attention and I hate how it promotes unhealthy lifestyles. I hate how it encourages every kind of opinion for content, with the good opinions and the bad opinions at the same volume, and I hate the lack of transparency about how anything works makes it insanely unreliable -- using TikTok for anything beyond brief, momentary giggles feels like trying to tightrope walk over quicksand during an earthquake.

I love Facebook.

I don't use Facebook anymore, but I love how my parents can reconnect to people they haven't spoken to for fifty years. I love how they talk excitedly about "remember Jerry? he's on Facebook!" and how they talked to him for hours about his new wicker business. I love that the structure makes it so easy for them to communicate with others from their lives.

I hate Facebook.

I hate how it's slowly pulling apart my dad's ability to concentrate. I hate the structure of the site putting ideas and images and thoughts into the minds of millions of people to dangerous result. I hate how they have a vested interest in dismantling democracy and harming people, and I hate how it's so ingrained in our world that there's nothing we can do.

I love Instagram.

I love all the art, and the comics, and the videos, and the comedy, and the memes, and the screenshots, and the designs, and the photography, and so, so, so much more. I love how easy it is to scroll through and see all the creation going on from the people I follow.

I hate Instagram.

I hate how it makes people envious and needy. I hate how the structure of it makes you addicted and weakens your self-reliance and confidence. I hate how obsessed it is with visual appearance and superficial things, and I hate how all the things I love about it are such a small part of the platform.

I love Reddit.

I love how it's full of a thousand little gardens of fandom, with each garden full of its own flowers and fruits and succulents. I love how easy it is to find and connect to other people with your interests. I love so much of the long, winding, rambling, silly, memey conversations in the comments. I love the AskReddit threads on ridiculous topics and I love the stories I read on WritingPrompts.

I hate Reddit.

I hate the culture of dickish egocentrism. I hate the Musk fandom. I hate the smug self-righteousness. I hate the fact that the people who run Reddit keep trying over and over again to reinvent and intrude on the users on the site, and I hate the anti-progressivism that seeps into every corner of it.

I love [tumblr].

You know why I love [tumblr]. I love the art, I love the fandom, I love the culture, I love how the shitty design of the site makes it so much healthier of a place than other social media, I love the customisation of posts, I love the energetic nature of people here and how willing they are to support newer people. I love the memes. I love Out Of Touch Thursday and I love Neil banging out the tunes. I love writing my Shakespearification posts and I love when people reblog them with excited tags. I love how so many of the people here have their eyes wide open to the injustices of the world and, weirdly enough, I love how the absolute lack of mutual respect here makes it so that nobody's afraid to voice their weird-ass opinions about how Spider-Man would make a great My Little Pony, and I love how immediately twelve people will not only jump to their defence but will make fanart. I love the sheer, unrestrained, and genuine creative energy.

I hate [tumblr].

I hate how it's so small and weak now that so few people see the art and the fandom. I hate how the culture is slowly seeping out into the wider world and weakening. I hate how the shitty design of the site is slowly making it unsustainable (for the love of Jesus, please give [tumblr] your money). and I hate, I hate, how the fact that so many people on this site have their eyes wide fuckin' open means that the injustices of the world are laid completely bare to see, and if you spend enough time here, you'll learn all about all of the genocides and gentrifications and political collapses and destruction and bigotry that so many people experience every day, being posted on this little hellsite because that's all they can do in the face of existential horrors.

oh, and I hate the antivaxxers and terfs. fuck terfs and fuck antivaxxers.

and more than anything else here,

I hate how capitalism did this.

There's nothing to love about capitalism here. Capitalism is why artists on Twitter can only do art in their spare time because they're struggling to survive and capitalism is why Twitter spends so much time making people miserable to drive engagement. Capitalism is why professional TikTok creators are so scared about the unreliability of the platform and capitalism is why TikTok sucks "content" from everything you create on it. Capitalism is why my parents are so tired that they wind up spending time on Facebook and capitalism is why Facebook has so much power to fuck up democracy. Capitalism is why art is such a small part of Instagram. Capitalism is why Reddit is trying so hard to reinvent itself. Capitalism is why Tumblr has to pathetically beg for money. Capitalism is fucking vile.

[redorich]

I absolutely adore the hermit canyon au both because you have such a fun writing style and because it just makes it so blatantly clear how much of a different level the hermits are on compared to the dsmp folks. Power mad admin who's effectively a god on the server? Just vore him, it's fine! Spooky egg that brings madness and suffering to everyone who interacts with it? Grian can handle it, give him 30 seconds. It's such a good portrayal of their differences and I'm absolutely delighted by it

thank you!! i try very hard to cultivate a writing style that's fun, rather than a slog. and yes, the difference in power level is absolutely one of my favorite tropes, so i'm glad so many people enjoyed it! speaking of the hermits' casual wielding of insane levels of power.....

"So, how are you going to fix the Era Three life system anyway?" Cleo asks. She and Xisuma are casually walking down the main hall of the canyon.

Xisuma never goes anywhere alone anymore. Even though a survivable amount of magic has been returned to the Dream SMP server and Xisuma is no longer infirm, all those months of staying by his side have left a lasting impression.

"Hm, it basically comes down to a charisma check-- have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons, Cleo?"

"Not really," Cleo admits, "but Joe does and he's talked about it before. Charisma check?"

Xisuma stops walking, opening the door to the small meeting room in the heart of the canyon and holding the door open for Cleo. As she passes through, he explains.

"We have a source of magic, and we have a plan to implement it. The only obstacle is convincing Mojang that they should; hence, charisma check."

"Hey, Xisuma," Joe greets as the admin follows behind Cleo.

"Hello, Joe," Xisuma returns, surveying the room. The chair at the far end of the table has been left open for the admin, and unlike the meeting with the Dream SMP representatives, the Hermits don't give a fuck about who sits where and what that says about their status.

Doc is sitting in the place two seats from Xisuma's spot, leaning back in his chair so that only two of its legs are on the ground and his croc-clad creeper toes are kicked up on the edge of the table. A few spaces down is Joe, minding his business and reading a book (upside down-- it's more of a challenge that way) and across from Joe is Etho, sitting patiently.

With a shrug, Cleo snags the nearest chair and turns it around so she can sit in it backwards and still face the table. No one planned on her being here, and she has no idea what's going on, but no one has really told her to leave, so that's pretty much implicit permission.

After making his way to his seat, Xisuma addresses the table. "Are we all ready? Etho, do you think you can convince whoever shows up?"

Etho hums in thought for a moment. "Yeah, I can do that. Still need to actually get one of the gods here, though."

"I'm on it," Doc says, already on his communicator.

Cleo squints at Doc. "You have the gods on speed dial?"

Doc shrugs. "We text sometimes."

"About what?!" Cleo says.

"Basketball."

Cleo squints at Doc. "Don't you, like, hold a grudge or something against Dinnerbone? I mean, he did literally rip off your arm."

"Got a cool robot arm out of it, though," Doc says placidly. "It's got a screwdriver in it."

"Like a Swiss army knife?" Joe chimes in, putting down his book.

"Yeah," Doc says proudly, "bottle opener too-- for beer."

"As fascinating as Doc's Sonic Screwdriver arm is, we do have something to be doing," Xisuma reminds the group wryly.

"Oh yeah," Doc says. "Agnes is coming."

Cleo drums her fingers on the table. "When will she be here-- oh!"

A radiant figure emitting soft yellow light appears on top of the table; although the figure is bright, it doesn't hurt to look at. The glow dims and the light coalesces into a small woman with pale yellow hair. The woman-- presumably Agnes of the Mojang pantheon-- opts to sit side-saddle on the table instead of in a chair.

"Hello! It's nice to see you again, Doc," she says, "oh, and Etho as well-- and Herobrine?"

"I go by Joe now," the man says simply.

Agnes smiles. "My bad, Joe. Now, what did you need me for, Doc?"

"Er, it's actually about the three-life system," Xisuma cuts in.

"Yes? What about it?" Agnes tilts her head.

"It was... a good system, doing what you could with the lack of magic," Xisuma says diplomatically, "but we think we've found a way to fix things. Joe?"

Joe takes over, setting his book down on the table after carefully bookmarking his place. "So the issue is the lack of magic, right? You couldn't support updates and player respawns after Notch took what he did."

"This is correct," Agnes says with a service industry smile, likely not appreciating the reminder of her pantheon's failure.

"So, use the In Between," Joe says. "It's got so much extra magic that it keeps sending people back in time; I was stumped on a way to fix it, but if you can give the magic to the players it's a win-win."

Eyebrows raising to her hairline, Agnes's face falls into a considering moue. "I'd much rather use it to push the next update," she says. "The Caves and Cliffs update is one of the biggest yet."

Cleo's unbeating heart sinks in her chest. Is this it? Is their only way to help these people going to be appropriated by well-meaning yet selfish gods?

"People are dying!" Cleo shouts. "Isn't that more important than your stupid update?!"

Agnes turns to look at her for the first time, and Cleo refuses to be afraid.

"I know it must sound callous of me, but... well, people die," Agnes says gently. "They always do. Even Era One players aren't immune. The better thing to do would be to improve their quality of life while they can still live it."

Shoulders rising in anger as she suppresses the urge to bite and kill and devour, Cleo takes a breath to rage when Etho of all people cuts in.

"Remember that IOU you gave me?" he says. There's a twinkle in his eye that only intensifies when Agnes groans.

"Don't tell me," she says. "You're seriously going to use that now? On this? I gave it to you centuries ago, I thought you'd forgotten!"

"Nope," Etho crows, "just saving it for a special occasion."

Agnes sighs, bringing a hand to her temple. "And what am I supposed to do about the Caves and Cliffs update?" she says tiredly.

"Cut it in half?" Etho shrugs.

"...Fine." Agnes disappears, dimming the room from the lack of her godly presence. Within a few seconds (relatively speaking, as time is more of a suggestion than a rule when you're powerful enough), a wave of magic washes over the group. It explodes outward from the table like ripples from a cannon ball, washing over the entire server. The change is palpable.

"Etho, I could kiss you right now," Cleo says, relieved beyond measure.

"Please don't," he says with a smile. "After all, I don't know where your mouth's been."

Cleo raises an unimpressed eyebrow, pretending to mull the situation over.

"Yeah, you make a good point," she says, and the group bursts into laughter.

[technowoah]

In a rich man's world

I wrote this in a day be proud yall :)

A C!Schlatt b̶l̶u̶r̶b̶ imagine (platonic)

+ C!Wilbur x reader (established)

⚠︎ swearing, manipulation (?), drinking, smoking, mentions of weapons. I didn't proofread

"STAY THERE. Dont come for me until I say that its safe. I know Schlatt will follow you so dont come-"

"GET EM OUT OF HERE!"

"Stay my love!"

This wasnt what you expected when Wilbur said to stay. You didnt think that staying in Manberg would insue that Tubbo would be considered Schlatt's vice president and you becoming his "First Lady".

He said in his own words, "Im interested in you. To be honest I don't know how someone like Wilbur can get a woman like you."

You took that to heart instantly. You and Wilbur were together for a reason. You loved him and he loved you. You and Wilbur built L'Manburg, you followed his dream and right now you are watching his dream, firsthand, be destroyed. You had watched him loose the election by 1 percent to Quackity and Schlatt and immediately after that get run out of his own country by the man he now despises. The man that's now your president.

Late at night you remember the faces of Tommy and Wilbur who were standing in the middle of a crowd of archers, their arrows pointed towards them as you tried to push your way through to get to Wilbur. He finally grabbed your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him.

The three of you finally came to a stop by a river when he said those words to you. Wilbur had told you to stay with Tubbo until things blew over and the two of you could see eachother again. Tommy continued to yell in the background that they should continue to run, Wilbur tried to give you one last hug when he was ripped away by Tommy.

You stood there breathless as arrow whipped past you and nearing your feet. You heard footsteps behind you. Thinking it was either one of the archers behind you, you didn't move until a hand was placed upon your shoulder. Discomfort flew through your body as your mind caught up to the idea that Schlatt was behind you.

"Dont watse your time. You heard the man." Schlatt said as he ended up walking away leaving you stunned.

He was an asshole and he knew it too. You could probably tell he was smirking as he walked away. That bastard just came all the way here just to taunt you and then leave. You ended up going back to the podium where you met with everyone else who didn't chase after Wilbur and Tommy.

Your mind was filled with hatred for Schlatt and uncertainty for the future. With Wilbur you had a future already made in L'Manburg, you two were going to get married, have children, reign in L'Manburg, but now what?

Schlatt ended up asking both you and Tubbo to come up onto the stage during his second presidential speech. You both stood, one on each side, of Schlatt uneasy. You were figeting while you awaited the reason why he brung both Tubbo and you up there. Tubbo looked anxious, he was flinching everytime Schlatt motioned towards him. You wish you both could find some comfort in this situation, but you couldn't grasp onto anything.

Schlatt then announced Tubbo as his vice president and you as his first lady. And that's where you are now, in a huge room with a round table sat in the middle. George, Quackity, Tubbo and you were sat around it the 5 of you barely taking up the huge meeting table.

That place is where he said those words to you, that he found you interesting and belittled your and Wilbur's relationship. That's where you realized he was doing this on purpose. Everything had begun to clear up in your mind as the days went on.

Time was passing and you haven't seen Wilbur in days. It was tiring and both Tubbo and Schlatt saw this.

Tubbo and you began to take nightly walks after working for the ram-man to blow off steam and complain. You always found yourselves following the path the Tommy and Wilbur took before stopping and wondering which way they went. Soon those walks became more informative because Wilbur gave Tubbo the green light, and gave him the coordinates to their hideout. He had told you that Wilbur knows that Schlatt is keeping an eye on you and it's safer until Schlatt lets his gaurd down.

Tubbo told you one night that Wilbur had teamed up with Technoblade, and made the underground city Pogtopia. He said it looked beautiful down there and that you'll love it. He also told Wilbur that you were Schlatt's first lady and he freaked out. After realizing that Tubbo kept telling you what was happening, you decided to make Tubbo your messenger boy until you could see Wilbur and Tommy again. It was sad that this was the way you two had to communicate, but whatever it takes for everyone to be together.

Schlatt on the other hand. He noticed you moping around in meeting rooms and while writing decrees. Schlatt wasn't good with words, we all know that, but he was good with material things. As days passed by and letters were written you began to find jewelry on your nightstand, gleaming in the moonlight without a note. More things began to show up in your bedroom, that Schlatt had given you. You said you were uncomfortable with sleeping in the same room and after a little bit of back and forth he obliged.

Bracelets hung on your doorknob, rings on your bed, enchanted weapons, basically anything that shined was in your hands.

Schlatt had even invited you to have a one on one meeting with him about a new decree he was working on. He sat at the head of the table while you sat on the side of him.

Schlatt slid the papers over to you, a cigarette lazily hanging from his mouth. You had gotton used to the smell of alcohol and cigarettes while being around Schlatt because that's what he smelled like 24/7.

"So what do ya think?" Schlatt ssid while blowing out smoke.

"It's sucks!" You said in disbelief.

"I want you to rewrite it then." He leaned back inhaling more smoke.

"What?!"

"You heard me broad! Write my decrees from now on." Schlatt said getting up from his chair.

He had put a table against a wall that was placed there for types of alcohol he wanted during a meeting. He grabbed a huge wine glass and a full bottle of red wine. He opened the bottle and drank a little from it before pouring a full glass apparently for you. He offered you the glass, slightly sitting on the table infront of you.

"I dont wanna do this shit anymore. It's boring so you'll do it for me. You know, I was gonna have Quackity do it, but. No. Just no." Schlatt shook his head as drank straight out of the bottle.

You smirked as you drank from your glass as well. You knew he was lying. You just didnt know the exact reason why. At this point you didn't care, you had the power you and Wilbur wanted in the first place, everything seemed to be coming full circle for you.

The decree was sitting right in front of you next to the cigarette Schlatt placed there, not caring if his cigarette was put out or not. You remembered the jewelry and weapons he had brought you to cheer you up and the fancy red wine and the glass that held it that shined like diamonds.

Schlatt finished his bottle of red wine and slammed his bottle onto the table. He rolled his head around and groaned. Schlatt turned his head to look at you from his seat on the table.

"So whaddya think?"

Maybe you could stay for a little longer.

[buttterknifeee]

How long is forever? - Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Request: "Hello, May I request an episode insert in the Teen Titans episode 'How Long Is Forever?'"

Summary: Starfire takes a trip to the future... only to find out that you and the other Titans have disbanded. Will she find a way back to the present, or will you live an unfulfilling life forever?? (from S2 EP1)

Pairings: None

Word Count: 3919

A/N: Hey!!! sorry this took a while, it was super hard to write it due to most of it being in Starfire's POV. Most of the episodes in the series are centered around specific titans, so if you have an idea for an Aquagirl centered episode, feel free to send it in!!! (theres also a grand total of one cuss word in there)

Aquagirl’s Room - 2004

“Where is it? Where is it?” you mumble, tearing your room apart. You were looking for one of your CDs that you were in the mood for listening to. You threw your clothes into the air, looked under your bed, and even checked inside of your fish tank, holding the water containing a few tropical fish above you until you gave up. You sighed, finally checking the clock. You realized that you’ve been in your room for an hour and you haven’t even said hello to the other titans. You quickly change into your suit and head to the living room.

You stretched as you walked in. “Hey guys-” you stop in confusion at the scene in front of you. Starfire was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding a bunch of necklaces and boxes and babbling something about “Blorthorg”, Beast Boy and Cyborg were brawling for a video game remote, Raven was reading silently and holding up a pair of nail clippers (?) telepathically, and Robin….

Anger bubbles up inside of you as you realize that he was in front of the stereo, blasting music. From your CD. You cross your arms as you march up to the Boy Wonder.

“Hey Rob, whatcha doing with my CD?” You say. “What, was Kelly Clarkson too quiet for you?”

Raven adds, “Yeah Robin, could the music be a little louder? I can still hear myself think.”

He glares at the two of you “I don’t listen- I only turned the music up to DROWN OUT ALL THE YELLING!!” He refers to the two boys. Cyborg now had Beast Boy in a headlock, holding the controller triumphantly.

“Whose turn is it now, tough guy? Whose turn is it now?” Cyborg taunts the green teen.

“Knock it off! I can't work with you two acting like idiots!” Robin yells.

“Work?? The only “work” I see you doing is stealing my stuff!” You snap.

“Great. More yelling will definitely stop the yelling.” Raven says, a sarcastic smirk on her face.

The three of you glared at each other, Cyborg and Beast Boy were still fighting, and one of Starfire’s necklaces broke, its beads tumbling onto the ground.

“STTTOOOOPPPPP!” the alien princess screamed. You stared at her in surprise. She took a deep breath and recomposed herself.

“ Friends must never behave this way, and especially not on Blorthog! Do you wish to invite the Rekmas?” she said.

“Gesundheit?” Beast Boy said, confused by her vocabulary.

“On my world, ‘Rekmas’ means ‘the Drifting.’” she explains. “The point at which close friends begin to drift apart, and their friendship begins to die.” She frowned. You immediately felt bad for all the yelling you did.

“Aw, come on, Starfire.” Cyborg comes to her side.

“We are so not Rek-whatever-ing.” Beast Boy reassures her.

“We're getting on each other's nerves a little. Big deal.” Raven says.

“Fighting’s just a part of life. As long as we resolve it, we’ll be fine.” You say.

“Yeah. This is just typical roommate stuff. We're not going to drift apart, Star. I promise. We'll all be friends forever.” Robin declares

“Forever?” Starfire asks. Before you could answer, Robin’s T-communicator beeped. The communicator was flashing red, and he turned to you and the others.

“Titans! Trouble!” he says. You all rush out of the Tower and into the city.

You find the “trouble” in the Jump City museum. It was a man wearing black and gold armor and a goatee: Warp. He was monologuing to a bunch of guards that he had frozen.

“I didn't journey back in time one hundred years to squabble, I came to steal.” You see him reaching for one of the clocks. “The Clock of Eternity. Valuable in the past, priceless in the future.” Robin steppeds forward, throwing his birdirang to knock Warp’s hand back.

“But for the present...you'll keep your filthy hands off it.” He says, announcing the Titans’ entrance. The man turns to the six of you.

"The Teen Titans. This is a treat. I read all about you in the historical archives. And now, you're all history!” He fires his laser at you all.

“Titans! Go!” Robin yells as you scramble to dodge his rays. He blocks Warp’s rays with his staff, but at the last shot the staff breaks, and he backed up. Starfire blasts her starbolts at him, but the bolts ricochet off of him and hits her, sending her to the ground. You and Beast Boy attack him now, a stream of water lifting you into the air by your feet. You put your hands in front of you and a jet of water blasts out of your hands, heading straight for Warp. He held his hand us as the water made contact with him, and froze the water. The ice traveled up the jet of water and onto your hands, encasing them in the long shard of ice. You fell, the weight of the ice dragging you down. You winced as you saw Beast Boy meet a similar fate, his animal form frozen in ice next to you. You struggled to free your hands as Cyborg and Raven both went down. Robin gives one last attempt to take Warp down, running towards him.

“You cannot defeat Warp. I am from the future.” He says, throwing disks towards Robin. He dove to the side as the projectiles exploded. “And your relics are one hundred years out of date." He grabs the clock and presses a blue lens from his armor. Suddenly, a blinding white portal forms in front of him. Your hands were still stuck so you had to squint.

“Ta-ta, Titans. I have enjoyed our time together, but I've got a very bright future ahead of me.” He sneers, stepping through the portal. You finally pull your hands out of the chunk of ice just in time to see Starfire slam into Warp, sending the two of them into the portal.

“Starfire!” Robin yells, trying to dive in after her, only for the portal to close and him to fall on the floor. You pull him up from the ground and look around. Starfire was gone.

Titan’s Tower-2024

Starfire couldn’t believe what was going on. After tackling Warp, she ripped off the lens on his suit and ended up in Jump City, 20 years into the future. She found Cyborg alone in the rotting Titans Tower, hooked up to a large battery. He explained that the day she left, the Titans fell apart, and disbanded soon after. He told her that the others can help her get back to the present, telling her where to find you, Beast Boy, and Raven.

She found herself at a circus whilst looking for Beast Boy. There in a cage, sat Beast Boy, changing into various animals. She approached the cage as he turned back into his human form. He was now a pudgy old man, with a great deal of hair loss. He looked at her with wide eyes through the bars.

“No way! It's you. But how?” he asked, peering at her with his wrinkled eyes.

“I require your help.” Starfire said.

“What kinda help?” Beast Boy asked.

“The future is not as it should be. We must find Warp. I will free you from this--” Beast Boy stopped Starfire from continuing her sentence.

“This cage isn't to keep me in! It's to keep those maniacs out!” he explained in a panicked tone, referring to a group of kids. “Look. After the Titans broke up, I tried the whole solo-hero thing. Got my butt kicked, a lot. So now, well…”

He turned into a chicken briefly to illustrate his point. “ Besides, I'm in the showbiz now.” Starfire could tell he wasn’t happy with where he was, but there was nothing she could do. She left Beast Boy and went to find Raven.

She found Raven in a room in a broken down building. She was standing in a pure white room, wearing a white cloak to match. Her back was facing Starfire when she arrived.

“Raven?” she squeaked, inching into the room. “Raven, it is Starfire, your friend”

“No such thing.” she groaned, her back still facing Starfire. Starfire’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Please, Raven I-”

“Just another figment. Don’t even look.”

“You must listen! I am here because-” she pleads, but Raven stops her.

“I’m never coming back! Go away!” she yells, Starfire backing up in fear. “It has to go away. Just like before. Just like all the others.” Starfire frowns in realization. She must not think I’m real; she thinks it's all in her head.

“Your mind.” she says softly, approaching the cloaked woman. “Without friends, you must have--” Starfire was about to touch Raven, but her familiar dark shield formed around her. She gasps, then eventually leaves the room in defeat. There was one last person she could try talking to. You.

She walked by the Jump City beach, the same place where you got your powers all those years ago. Suddenly, you rose out of the ocean, the water around you carrying you onto shore. Your face was stuck in a permanent glare, different to your constant smiles as a teen. You were taller, definitely had a few wrinkles, and you were wearing Atlantean clothing. Starfire flinched at your sudden arrival.

“Aquagirl! how-”

“I don’t go by Aquagirl anymore. I am Queen (y/n), ruler of Atlantis. And word gets around when one of your old teammates who had disappeared 20 years ago is roaming Jump City again, even at the bottom of the ocean.” You say coldly, eyeing her as she shrunk at the sight of you.

“What had happened to you, my friend?” she asked.

You sigh, recalling your memories. “After you disappeared and the team disbanded, I vowed to never be as soft and vulnerable as I was then. I moved to Atlantis, and was eventually appointed ruler.”

“Oh my, that sounds terrible!” Starfire exclaimed. “I need your help my friend-”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not terrible, I am quite fine just the way I am. And we were friends 20 years ago; things have changed.” You turn your back to her. “I must get going; there’s much I need to do.” Starfire stares at you in sadness as you walk back into the ocean, the water swallowing you up and the waves lapping like normal.

Starfire trudges through the snow-covered city, when a laser blast knocks her back. Her eyes raise to meet with Warp’s, his weapon aimed at her.

“What’s the matter, dear? Have I come at a bad time?” he snarls, opening fire once more. She dodges his shots and fires back, but the starbolts simply bounce off his modern armor. She tried to hit him close up but he held up his hand and ice formed around her midair. The large chunk of ice containing Starfire drops and shatters, leaving Starfire on the ground, shivering. She glares at Warp, who now has deeper wrinkles on his face.

“You have become so old,” she notes, still on the ground.

“That's what happens when someone steals my vortex regulator.” he says, holding out his hand. “The regulator, if you please. I really must get back to my future.” She stands up and takes the lens out from her belt. She couldn’t let him leave, especially when she’s stuck in a future like this. She held the disk next to her and warmed up a starbolt, as if to hold it hostage.

“If you ever wish to see your future you will repair the damage you have done to my past!” she yelled, anger bubbling up inside her. The villain laughed.

“Damage? Silly girl. There's nothing wrong with your past. One cannot damage history, because history cannot be changed.” He held up the clock and continued. “I went back in time to steal this because history says it disappeared. And history says it disappeared because I went back to steal it. Past, present, future. It's all written in stone, my dear.”

Starfire stood in disbelief dropping her glowing hand. No… this can't be the future we’re destined to live. Such terrible lives… she thought. Warp walked up to her shocked state and took the lens out of her hand.

“And nothing you do can ever change it.” he scoffed. Warp prepared to blast her when he was knocked into the alleyway by an unknown figure. Starfire snapped back into reality and looked around for you had knocked the villain back. A dark silhouette lept forward and threw Warp against the end wall of the alley. They threw disks at the villain, the area around him exploding. When the smoke cleared, Starfire could see that Warp had used a force field. He released his shield only to be met with the mysterious figure dropping down towards him. He stared straight at Starfire.

“Another time, perhaps.” he said. Before the shadowed person could reached him, he dropped into the ground. The person who had tried to fight him landed right where Warp had been, and as they straightened up, Starfire inched forward to see who it was.

“It’s good to see you again.” the person said. Starfire could recognize that voice from anywhere, and apparently, anytime.

“Robin?” she asked.

“I haven’t used that name in a long time.” he said, finally stepping out of the shadows. He looked nothing like the Boy Wonder she knew. His traffic-light esque uniform was replaced by a black suit with a blue bird on the front. He still wore a mask and he now had long, black hair.

“Call me… Nightwing.”

Starfire found herself in Robin’s (or Nightwing’s) base. She looked at a glass case of his old uniform, a feeling of melancholy washing over her. She was glad that he was ok, but the Robin she once knew was now nothing more than a mannequin display. Nightwing wrapped a blanket around her with a small smile.

Nightwing finally spoke. “So I’ve heard you’ve been looking for help.”

Starfire sighed. “There is nothing you can do. There is nothing anyone can do. The past cannot be repaired, the future cannot be altered, no matter how wrong it seems.”

“So it’s impossible.” Nightwing determined from her rant, walking towards a bunch of computers. “Good. If memory serves, we've done the impossible before.”

Nightwing’s words had surprised Starfire. None of the others had said anything as hopeful since she’d arrived here. A small fire of hope blossomed inside of her.

“I held on to this,” Nightwing says, pressing a button from a device. “...just in case.” Starfire’s eyes widened, realizing that it was a T-communicator. The communicator began to flash red, and to Starfire’s delight, so did her neck piece and wrist guard.

At the bottom of the ocean, you sat on a throne, talking to your advisers. As they left, your seashell necklace began to flash red. You looked at it in surprise, recognizing what it meant: it was an emergency signal that Robin had put in your necklace while you were still in a team. Even after 20 years, he had never used it until now. You began to get up from your throne when a group of your advisors came back, swarming you with scrolls and questions. You sat back down, a bitter feeling in your throat.

Beast Boy’s belt had flashed red whilst he was performing a trick in his animal form. He quickly jumped back into human form. He observed his belt for a moment before stepping back, hanging his head.

Cyborg's robotic eye flashed red as he sat alone in the Titans Tower. He immediately got up and started towards the door, only to be stopped by the wires keeping him alive and stuck inside the tower. He looks back at the power source.

Raven still stands alone in the room, her back facing the door. The brooch of her cloak flashes red, and without looking at it, she covers it with her hand.

Starfire and Nightwing venture to Jump City museum, where they find Warp, fixing his time travel suit. He wields the lens that he took from Starfire to his suit, whilst talking to himself.

“Tick-tock.” he laughs. “Just a few more seconds, and I shall finally--” his sentence was cut off by Nightwing knocking the tool out of his hand, revealing him and Starfire’s position.

“The future will have to wait.” Nightwing says, extending his staff. “You just ran out of time.”

Warp growls and fires laser beams at them, causing them to split up to avoid getting hit. Starfire shoots her starbolts at Warp again, despite them getting deflected by his force field. Nightwing however, jumped down on him again, using his staff to crush one of his lasers. He turns to face Nightwing, but Starfire lands a hit on his back with her starbolt. He tries to laser Starfire but has to dodge Nightwing’s staff attacks that barely strike him. He fights quickly and with fury, eventually knocking Warp flat on his back. The two heroes step close to him to inspect him. But Warp grins, and uses his second laser to blow a hole through the roof, snow and rubble falling onto Starfire.

“Star!” Nightwing yells, but Warp blasts him back with his laser. Warp runs over to the tool he dropped and started repairing his suit again as Nightwing helped Starfire up. Suddenly, he was blasted back by a familiar blue ray. Starfire and Nightwing turn to see Cyborg, his arm cannon smoking, but being able to function without any wires.

“Boo-yah” he says with a grimace.

“Cyborg!” Starfire exclaims, flying over to the half robot. “You are repaired!”

“Glad you could make it,” Nightwing says, joining them.

“Wouldn't have missed it. Now who said y'all could start without me?” Cyborg said as Warp stood back up.

“So sorry,” Warp said, holding up another device. “Perhaps I should finish you first!” Before he could use the device, he was attacked by a green lion, Beast Boy. Warp looked at the lens he was repairing, now crackling with electricity. In anger, he pointed a laser at him, but a jet of water shot up from the floor. You ran into view, a trident now in your hand.

“Heard you guys needed help!” you yell, a hint of a smile peeking out from your stoic face.

Before Warp could fall to the ground again, he is overtaken by magic, and thrown into the side of the wall. Raven materializes, still wearing a white cloak.

“Nobody hurts my friends,” she said, reminiscent of the first time you met her.

“Dude, that is so unfair,” Beast Boy whines, comparing his bald head to Nightwing’s flowing hair. The six Titans turn to see Warp, who has managed to create a wormhole, despite his suit being damaged.

“It seems my time has come,” Warp said, preparing to walk through the wormhole. Nightwing threw a birdarang at Warp, Warp throwing his own disk to intercept it. Starfire watched in awe as the birdirang sliced through Warp’s disk and hit him in the chest, right where the lens sat.

“Uh?! No! NOOOOO!” the six of you watched in horror as Warp regressed in age until he was nothing more than a screaming infant.

“Ok, I am not changing any diapers.” Beast Boy said, staring at the baby.

Cyborg looked at Starfire. “We gotta get you home. Come on!” he pointed at the wormhole, which was shrinking. He took the lens from the suit and put it in his arm cannon. He fired at the wormhole, making it bigger.

“Im redirecting the wormhole.” Cyborg said, turning to Starfire. “Starfire! Go!” She steps towards the portal and looks back at her friends. Their lives seemed so lonely and.. dissatisfying. Is this life they were destined to live?

“Please, must this really be our future?” She asked. The rest of you looked at her silently, sadness in your eyes. “Is there nothing I can do to change it?” Nightwing stepped up and looked directly into her eyes.

“I'm sorry, Star. There isn't time.” Nightwing said. He placed the clock that Warp had stolen in her hand and his other hand on her shoulder. He gives her one last smile before stepping back towards the other Titans, beckoning her to enter the portal. Starfire took a deep breath, and walked into the portal.

Jump City Museum - 2004

“Ta-ta, Titans. I have enjoyed our time together, but I've got a very bright future ahead of me.” He sneers, stepping through the portal. You finally pull your hands out of the chunk of ice just in time to see Starfire slam into Warp, sending the two of them into the portal.

“Starfire!” Robin yells, trying to dive in after her, only for the portal to close and him to fall on the floor. You pull him up from the ground and look around. Starfire was gone.

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Beast Boy stared at the place the portal was. “Um, where did she-?”

Another portal opens with a brilliant flash between Beast Boy and Cyborg. Starfire falls out, curled around an item. You all rushed towards her.

“Dude!”

“Whoa!”

“Star! What happened?” Robin asked as the portal behind her closed.

“History said it disappeared.” Starfire said, straightening and revealing the clock warp had just stolen. “But history was wrong!”

The boys stared at her dumbstruck but you laughed, diving in for a hug.

You stood with the other titans as Starfire recounted her story. You covered your mouth in awe to find out what happened to you and the others in the future.

“Then Nightwing handed me the clock and I entered the vortex.” she finished.

“Woah,” Raven said, shocked by the recount of Starfire’s story.

“Bald?!” Beast Boy yells, grabbing at his hair. “You're telling me I'm going to be bald?!”

“Gosh, Star, all of our lives seem so terrible,” you say, thinking about what Starfire had said about you. You were a queen (which was cool), but you were also a cold hearted bitch (super uncool). You didn’t want that to happen, and more importantly for you to no longer be friends with the other Titans.

“Guess you were right about all that Rekmas stuff,” Cyborg said, slightly concerned.

“I don't want us to drift apart. Does it all have to happen? Isn't there anything we can-” Robin worries out loud, but Starfire stops him.

“Our friendship has already changed Warp's past. I believe it can also change our future.” Starfire says with a smile.

“Yeah I mean, the original reason we “broke up” was because of Starfire disappearing, and since she’s here now, we aren’t breaking up!” You chimed in, grinning at the other Titans.

Raven picks up the broken necklace with her telekinesis, stringing them back together.

“So… is it too late to do this festival-of-friendship thing?” she asks.

Starfire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, it’s never too late!”

You all put on the bulbous necklaces Starfire brought in the morning.

“HAPPY BORTHOG!!!” Cyborg cheers.

“I thought it was Blort-Hog,” Beast Boy wondered.

“Okay, I feel like a wind-chime.” Raven groans.

“A very cool wind-chime,” you winked.

Starfire put the last necklace on Robin. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“So… Nightwing, huh?” he asked.

“Don’t even think about it bird brain,” you yelled from across the room, causing him to blush. You all burst out into laughter. The tower stayed cheerful the rest of the night.

[skellebonez]

Who Do I Go To? (Monkie Kid Fanfic)

I totally did not accidentally post this early before I edited it or added everything from my wip file... no... but anon, you gave me so much FREEDOM with this that I just went absolutely off the rails. This is not only set in a post S3 scenario where everyone survives and most of the villains have some kind of at least semi-redemption (except LBD, rip), this does feature a crackship or two of mine (you can read the tags to see the ships before you read)! Sun Wukong also has all of his immortality and some of his powers, I am writing this with the idea that he transferred most of them to MK and some of that was permanent once LBD was defeated and MK got his own back.

So... what if Sun Wukong did start communicating with the others in S3... but still has been bottling up his emotions about the past for so long he doesn’t feel he can talk to anyone because of their shared experiences? And what happens when that guilt and grief finally has someone willing to listen?

“What are you doing here, Si-SUN Wukong?” The Demon Bull King asked slowly, stumbling over his usual insult for the one once so close to him. They still weren’t close, and it was doubtful they would ever be as long as the sworn brothers they once were, but they were no longer at each other’s throats anymore.

That didn’t change how bizarre it was to see The Great Sage Equal To Heaven just... sitting outside his new home with no warning.

“DBK!” Wukong exclaimed, more startled than the larger demon was expecting as he jumped up and turned and if he didn’t look like he’d been hit with a truck metaphorically DBK didn’t know how to describe the way his fur stood on end and the redness in the other’s eyes. “I. UH. Was. Just stopping by to say hi!”

“No you weren’t,” DBK said, face falling into a deadpan glower. “You don’t do that. Even after 500 years I know you don’t.”

“I can start!” Wukong defended, crossing his arms and looking away with a wide teeth showing smile.

Too wide.

Even after everything that happened between them, from Red Boy to what happened when he needed his wife’s fan to sealing him in the mountain and everything that transpired with the Little Thief, he recognized that unhappy nervous smile.

“You can,” DBK said with a nod, gesturing to the smaller being. “You can also be here for a reason. Like what I heard you muttering to yourself behind the door.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” The Monkey King announced as he turned to walk away before a large hand, with shocking gentleness for the one attached to it, wrapped around his shoulders.

“If you need to talk-”

“No, haha, I most certainly have no need for that!”

“-you know we’ve already made peace. I-”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wukong insisted, struggling only a little before freeing himself from the other’s grip with an even wider nervous smile.

“-am willing to listen.”

“Don’t have to!”

“Are you at least talking to anyone?”

Neither of them said anything, The Demon Bull King staring down at The Monkey King with both frustrated annoyance and genuine concern in his expression.

The former he could deal with, but the later was so new again that...

Sun Wukong panicked.

“.... OKEY BYE!” He yelled, jumping and allowing his cloud to catch him and take him off.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM YOUR FEELINGS FOREVER SUN WUKONG!"

"I HID FROM THE WORLD FOR 500 YEARS AND I TURNED OUT JUST FINE, I THINK I'LL MANAGE!"

“He turned out fine, he says,” Princess Iron Fan called from behind her husband as she emerged from their home. “So fine that it took him losing his invincibility and his successor nearly being killed for him to admit he needed help.”

DBK grunted, nodding in agreement at her words.

“He needs more, still, my dear. Even I can see that.”

“Let’s call in some reinforcements then, darling. I think there are two people who may be able to get through to him.”

~

Sun Wukong sat on the beach of Mount Huaguo’s island home, clearly trying not to think about what had just transpired.

“Hey.”

“How did you even know to look for me here?” Sun Wukong asked, not nearly as startled this time. He’d heard the footsteps coming for a long time, the other apparently wanting to make his presence known.

“Bull King called Pigsy’s asking for MK. MK called me since he’s working. I remembered where you like to sulk. Hence: I’m here.”

Wukong groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. “I shouldn’t have even left the house today.”

“But you left,” Macaque said with a shrug, watching the other stew in his frustration at himself. “And you went to see DBK... and I guess Princess Iron Fan too? But you ran off. Why?”

“I can’t check up on an old friend turned enemy turned less enemy to ‘not exactly friend but we’re not trying to kill each other’ without being questioned?” Wukong grumbled into his arms.

“Not when you make him sound as worried as he did when he talked to MK,” Macaque continued, voice becoming more tense. “You didn’t go to apologize or explain anything, I was there when all that went down. So... did you finally go to talk about everything e-”

“No.” The word was said with such coldness that Macaque knew it was put on. It wasn’t out of malice but something else, something more worried and fearful. “No. I can’t talk to him about... I told him everything that explained what happened. I apologized. I don’t need to talk more.”

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to to just talking about, you know... how you’re doing," Macaque said with a concerned frown. It almost felt odd on his face. Almost. He was still getting used to the whole "not being mortal eternal enemies and now being friends and kinda sorta caring about each other again" thing. "I know it's been centuries and all and you're out of practice but like... it's been centuries."

"I just... can't, Macaque," Wukong rebutted as he refused to lift his head from his arms. "I just can't."

"Why?"

"Don't."

The single word stayed in their air between them, heavy and hard and meaning more than the immortal would ever admit to.

"Come on, there has to be a reason," Macaque insisted as he sat down beside the other immortal. When no response came he sighed, tail flicking absently and flipping over some of the rocks on the beach as they sat in silence for few minutes. "You know... I started talking to someone."

"What?" Wukong turned his head, just enough to look at the other monkey from the corner of his eye.

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Macaque continued, falling back down to lay flat on his back and gaze up at the clouds. He remembered that Wukong felt better, sometimes, when you looked away when talked to. Didn’t know why, but he remembered. “Not exactly the kind of therapy he thinks I need, but he lends me his cats and he lets me talk and sometimes asks if I want advice. Sometimes I say yes, but when I say no he understands. Sometimes I just want to rant at that one little one eyed cat he has and she listened to... I think. She’s a cat so I wouldn’t know. He thinks I should see someone more experienced, an expert. Maybe he’s right, I dunno, but this helps enough for now.

“... who are you and what have you done with the Six-Eared Macaque?” Wukong asked with a soft glower, one that was clearly in jest from the tiny smile the other could see.

“Same Macaque,” the other said with a laugh, sitting back up with a theatrical flourish. “Just realized that talking to someone isn’t as dumb or useless as I made it out to be in my head. A lot of the stuff I thought about alone wasn’t exactly the best. Or healthiest. But now I can get that out there and sometimes it makes Sandy look like he ate a whole lime which probably means it’s good it’s not in my head anymore.”

“You ramble a lot,” Wukong said with a chuckle, tail swishing softly beside him before nudging against Macaque’s. He tensed before it slowly wrapped around the other’s. “It feels odd, having you try to cheer me up again after... everything.”

“Bad odd or good odd?”

“Good.”

“That’s.... good,” Macaque said, squeezing Wukong’s tail with his own. “Feels odd for me too. Like I’m out of practice too. But it’s good odd...” The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company before he continued. “I do think you should talk to someone. Anyone.”

“I don’t know who, though. Every time I try I just... clam up and run away. I’ve put so much on MK already,” Wukong said, tail squeezing around Macaque’s loosely in return. “And Pigsy and Sandy... After all that came out, that Sandy is Sha Wujing and Pigsy is Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation... I just... I can’t talk to them either, even though Pigsy doesn’t remember anything at all. And you... DBK... everyone... who do I go to that knows enough about me to know what they’re in for but I won’t have those memories floating around in the back of my head toward making me run away?”

“Well, you could have Sandy help you get a therapist. Prepare them in advance. Or, if you’re not ready for that, you could talk to Tang?” Macaque suggested with a shrug. “He listens to me when I’m not talking to Sandy... but that’s probably because we’re dating, that’s what it is now instead of courting, right? So he kinda has to I think? Pigsy and MK talk to him too but with me I think it’s different.”

"I don't think that's how it works," Wukong said with a half hearted chuckle as he finally raised his head all the way. "Besides, I've known Tang longer."

"By like 3 months."

"3 months more is still enough to know that if he doesn't want to listen to you he won't. The man knows how to make a speedy exit."

"Guess that's one more thing that sets him apart from his great-great-great-great-great-whatever uncle," Macaque admitted with a shrug and a chuckle of his own. He squeezed his tail around Wukong's, smile softening when he felt it being returned.

“Feels... weird though,” Wukong said with a shrug. “The two of them looking so much alike.”

“Yeah, but that’s it,” Macaque rebutted. “He’s Tang Sanzang’s great-whatever nephew 5 times removed or whatever and he looks like him. Other than that? He knows pretty much all of your history. He’s mostly out of the hero worship zone but he still respects you a lot. Aside from everything that happened with LBD and MK you two have the least history out of everyone so maybe whatever’s in your head making you clam up might not stop you. And it couldn't hurt to try. It’s not therapy, it’s just talking about something that’s bothering you. Worst that can happen is you get nervous and fumble and he takes the opportunity to ask you 40 questions about the times you were almost incinerated by a baby."

"That was one time!"

~

“Uh,” Tang started, staring out the open door with wide eyes at the being before him. “Hi. I didn’t exactly expect to you see today.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to be here today,” Wukong said awkwardly, nervous smile taking over his face as his tone became far too jovial for what he was about to ask. “Macaque sent me to... talk to you. About me?” His smile drooped bit by bit as he said these words, slowly starting to lose his determination to go through with this. “Oh second thought, maybe I should-”

"No," Tang said, reaching out to put a hand on the immortal's shoulder. It was nothing, really, not to someone as strong as he was. Not when he could brush it off and walk away. Go home. Just sit on his couch and watch Monkey King The Animated Series again and just think about how no one deserved to be saddled with his problems anymore. But Wukong didn't. "Whatever it is, we’re going to talk about this now. I know I’m not trained like Sandy is, but I know how to listen. And if you need someone to listen to you, I can. You wouldn't have come here to talk if you didn't."

“... ok...” Sun Wukong said, letting Tang wrap his arm around his back and guide him inside his shared home with Pigsy and Macaque.

It was... odd. Being inside this place for the first time. He’d been outside of the door more than once, invited in as well. But never inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tang said, stopping his guidance once they reached the sofa. “I’m no Sandy, but I was making myself some tea and it is a batch of his own anyway. I’ll grab us some snacks too.”

“Snacks would be great,” Wukong admitted, watching the other disappear into the house’s kitchen before he sighed and gripped his thrashing tail and muttered to himself. “What am I doing..? I shouldn’t put all this on Tang... I should have gone with Macaque’s first suggestion, I’m-”

“Do you prefer lychee or persimmon?” Tang asked suddenly, startling the immortal for the second time that day. “We’re out of peach bao, but MK’s been making them out of lots of fruits and we have so many that I was planning on eating them myself.”

The scholar returned, faster than expected, with a full tray in hand. Teapot, two tea cups, and a steamer box that presumably held the buns he was asking about.

“Uh... persimmon,” Wukong answered, and he watched as Tang poured each of them a cup of tea and removed some clearly fresh (or at least made some time earlier in the day and freshly steamed), pieces of fruit laden bao to put on a plate for his guest before taking a seat in a chair across from him. “You were... getting lunch?”

Tang shrugged, laughing as he took a bite of one of his own. “Just wanted a snack. But,” He smiled, gesturing to the Monkey King. “We’re not here to talk about snacks. What’s on your mind?”

“Awfully forward start.”

“I try to be forward with the people I consider my friends.”

“... You consider me... a friend?” Wukong asked slowly, turning the bao over in his hands. It was well made, perfect he would say. You’d think MK would have been making them all his life, not that he’d learned how to on the drone ship while on the run from an evil super demon bent on erasing his mentor from the world.

“After everything we went through, how could I not?” Tang said, putting his food down to sip his tea and then putting that down as well and looking at him seriously. “You’re here because it’s the anniversary of the day you sealed away the Demon Bull King, aren’t you?”

The bao in his hands wasn’t perfect anymore. Instead the red lychee inside dripped from his claws from where they punctured it in surprise.

“How did you-?”

“My specialty study is your history after all,” Tang said, smile returning with a sad tint. “I’ve known the date for years but I felt it was something to keep to myself. For some reason. Now with you and DBK back I think that was a good choice. It feels too personal to have out in the open for everyone to make a spectacle of.”

“Is it selfish of me to be thankful for that?” Wukong muttered, gently placing the bao on the plate to lick his claws clean.

“I don’t think so,” Tang answered.

“I feel selfish though,” he continued, not managing to take note of how Tang sat up straighter and turned more toward him. “I went to DBK’s to... I don’t know. I wanted to apologize again? But I already did and he accepted it and it feels selfish to want to again. Then I just. I froze.”

“Why?” Tang asked, scooting closer.

“It felt wrong.”

“Because you would make him feel awkward?”

“NO!” Wukong groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just. I feel...” He took in a shaky breath, claws digging into his skin slightly.

“Don’t,” Tang’s voice came soft and closer than Wukong expected, as did the hands on his own slowly pulling his claws away from his face. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t bottle it up. I’ll listen to you. No matter what it is. It’s not selfish, feeling things isn’t selfish.”

“I miss it,” Wukong breathed out, shaky and choppy as his throat tightened as the words started to pour out of him. “I miss him. How things used to be between us and Iron Fan. I miss that I never got to meet Red Son when he was Red Boy. I miss Beng and Ba and Ma and Liu and how things used to be. I miss Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing even though they’re here. I miss my Tang Sanzang. I’d been alone for 500 years and I missed so much and I did that to myself and it’s selfish to miss like that...”

He didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until his hands had been let go and one of Tang’s rubbed a cloth against them. Tang cupped his cheeks softly before wrapping his arms around him and tucking the Monkey King’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“No... no it’s not. You’re allowed to miss things, Sun Wukong. Just like anyone else.”

Sun Wukong started to feel better.

He didn’t know why that was what did it, but the dam broke. It broke and his tears came pouring out as he hugged the man who reminded him so much of his Master. He didn’t know if anything he said in the mean time made any sense, if he was just blubbering and finally letting himself mourn what he’d lost and never had, but Tang didn’t ever chastise him. He let him weep and hold him and for the first time in years...

~

“Oh!” Princess Iron Fan startled as she opened the door to see who had knocked, finding herself face to face at sunset with one Great Sage. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you and DBK free?” Sun Wukong asked, smile no longer too wide. “I... kinda just wanna talk with you for a bit.”

“Well... I think that would be lovely.”

[quillsanddaydreams]

false promises

sirius black x reader

—author’s note: this idea was something that came to me before writing a paper and it just struck with me since. Sirius and you have a long history you can never get over. What happens when you finally get an opportunity to leave it all behind?

—warning(s): breakup and angst. gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren’t used).

—word count: 1,702

The sky was quickly turning black as you watched the streets the bus passed through. Today had been a whirlwind of emotions you weren’t sure you could contain. You had looked through old photographs, happy faces smiling back at you. They seem to make you feel worse, although you knew you had to do what you had planned for the day. Rip the band aid. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out and walked into the restaurant.

Your gaze immediately went over to him, his smile lighting up the room. Sirius. No other name could do him justice. James had an arm around him, enthusiastically telling the company something. Remus noticed you first. He gave a huge grin, waving at you. Forcing yourself to smile back at him, you made your way over to the table.

“Aha there you are!” James exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. “And here we thought you wouldn’t show up to a meeting you called.”

You rolled your eyes playfully while your heart constricted. Delaying worked only for so long. Sitting down beside Remus, you flipped open the menu avoiding everyone’s eyes. Especially the grey ones. He could always read you like an open book.

“So, did you all find anything interesting?” you said, scanning the menu like you had done a hundred times before. The group hummed in response.

Calling in the waitress, you gave your orders. You wondered whether any of them would continue some small talk, holding a glass of water to your lips. How were you even supposed to tell them? Sirius nudged you with his feet, making you look up at him. He raised his eyebrows wordlessly questioning you whether you were alright. Nodding carefully, you tried your best to hold your emotions in. Quiet followed, you could hear the cutlery being kept and people around your table chatting. It was as if everyone was anticipating a shoe to drop. Black spoke first.

“I know you like treating us and all,” he started as others leaned in. “But what’s the occasion for today? You’ve been so secretive about it; you didn’t even tell me.”

Your throat felt dry even though you just had some water. All of a sudden you felt as if you were exposed. Mulling over your next words, you pushed your nails into the palm of your hand. A habit you picked up as a child.

“I got a huge job offer, more of a promotion to be honest,” you began, watching their reactions. “The salary is quite something and the experience would step me up to a much higher position.”

“Whoa, that is so amazing” James said with widened eyes, cutting you off. Remus nodded along.

“And the way you were acting, we were afraid you were going to deliver a death sentence or something.”

“That is so great, congratulations!”

“It’s in Japan,” you whispered but no one seemed to hear you.

“You’ve been working so hard everyday—“

“We have to get ice-cream later!”

“It’s in japan!” you shouted, making the table fall silent again. Remus bit his lip, searching your face as Sirius just stared.

“It’s a five-year program,” you continued. “I talked to my boss and she told me this was a brilliant opportunity and that I should definitely pack up my bags.”

“You seriously aren’t considering to take up on that, are you?” James asked. Your jaw felt heavy. The silence must have been an enough answer, because no one dared to speak. Remus cleared his throat.

“Is this what you want?” he hushed as you felt tears prick your eyes. It wasn’t what you wanted; it was what you needed. You sneaked a glance at Sirius, who was still looking at you, dumbfounded.

You nodded slowly. James fidgeted.

“So this is your way of saying goodbye?” James remarked, a tad bit agitatedly.

“James—”

“Don’t James me!” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re talented. I know that, you know that. You can do without this program. And it’s in Japan for goodness’ sake! It’s miles away. Miles! Going there for five whole years means not looking back.”

“There are ways to communicate,” you said, your voice small. Even you didn’t believe that. James sat back, his arms folded.

“I hate you so much right now,” Remus said, picking at his napkin. You put your hand over his, squeezing slightly. He sighed. Sirius got up all of a sudden. You flinched. He turned to the group giving a random excuse about some work and left the table. Looking down at your hands, you heard the restaurant door close with a thud. Tears fell down your cheeks and you furiously wiped them off.

The rest of the dinner went in a strange calm. It was obvious to both James and Remus that you were just as much hurt as them. James gave you a small smile and helped brighten the mood at the table. Remus reassured you ever so often. You were grateful.

-♡♡♡-

Sirius didn’t contact you after that night. He was angry. Angry at you, angry for what you planned for yourself. It hurt you, more than you could care to admit. This playing around on your tip toes had been going for far too long. You knew your breakup with Sirius had been mutual, for both your goods but you didn’t have it in you to sit back and watch him fall into arms of people that weren’t you. Not anymore. Not when you still loved him. And you knew Sirius did too, it was how he still went out of his way to make you smile, how he loathed every single person you dated after him unable to realise that none of them could compare to him. None of them could compare to how he made you feel.

It left you to wonder at times whether the breakup was really the right decision. You reminded yourself that it was whenever the thought came up. Both of you wanted different things. Sirius never wanted to settle down and you did. After months of fighting and waiting for the other to give in to the other or come to a compromise, you realised it wasn’t going to work. You sighed. What were you doing reminiscing either way?

You checked all your bags and papers before putting on the coat ready to face the inevitable. Driving to the edge of the lake, you stopped and walked into the old abandoned warehouse. The grey walls didn’t seem haunting anymore, but inviting like an old friend. You smiled seeing a similar figure standing over the old table watching the ceiling.

“How did you find me?” he whispered, not sparing you a glance.

“I just felt the stench of complete and utter disappointment in me and followed it,” you jested but sobered seeing the look on Sirius’s face. You moved towards him slowly, gently placing a hand on his cheek cradling his face.

“Hey,” you whispered. He looked at you, his dark eyes making you lose yourself in them. “Don’t do this Sirius. You know I wouldn’t be able to leave you like this.”

“Then don’t leave,” he said simply. “I know you’re not doing it for yourself. You’re just running away.”

“You’re running away from me,” he hushed. You felt your mouth go dry. So he did know. There was no use beating about the bush, Sirius hated when people twisted up words.

“Well I am.”

“Why?”

“Why? You know why,” you pleaded. “Sirius I’ve been in love with you since I was a child. A child. We’ve been best friends all my life. Then we dated for five whole years. And now we don’t. I can’t be your ex and your friend simultaneously anymore, it’s been torture. Do you know how it feels knowing we’ll never be the same anymore? Just how much it hurts?”

“Do you think I feel good about it?” Sirius raised his voice, frustration from all those months pouring in. “Do you think I feel good about never being able to hold you close and see other men and women do it?”

“So maybe the job will do good to both of us,” you said after a beat.

“I did not say that—”

“Sirius—”

“No I didn’t. I’ll do anything for you. Give me another chance, just don’t go away,” Sirius said and you felt helpless. Sirius took your hands, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Tears pricked your eyes. You could remember all the time you spent with him together. Riding his bike to the sunset, singing and dancing nonsensically to songs, him kissing you softly telling you he loved you. The memories flashed before your eyes like a film reel. You could barely see anything through the salty tears welling up.

“That wouldn’t do justice to either of us,” you said after some time, your voice barely audible. “Some things aren’t meant to be. We’ll fight again Sirius, we’ll be angry at each other and we’ll end up hating each other more every day. And I won’t be able to live with myself knowing I spoiled the best relationship I ever had.”

Sirius gulped, breaking into sobs.

“Damn you,” he croaked. “Damn you for going away. Damn you for making me lose you all over again. As if it wasn’t painful enough the first time.”

You laughed through snuffles and squeezed his hand.

“You’ll never lose me. You’ll never get rid of me even if you tried—” you stopped as Sirius crashed his lips into yours, kissing you urgently. You pulled him closer by his shirt, as one of his hands went at your waist and the other held your face. Pulling away in a daze you sniffed and Sirius buried his face in your neck hugging you. Time seemed to pass by as neither of you pulled away.

“I guess I really can’t make you stay, can I?” he said as you shook your head, wrapping your arms around his body. “I’ll miss you. And I’ll show up at your door myself if you don’t answer my letters. Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”

You pulled back, wiping his face with your fingers.

“I promise.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[neonnoir-ao3]

Some Words of Comfort.

Recently, I’ve seen a lot of people (especially those who have read spoilers/are actively searching for leaked content) lament about their future reactions to the deaths of our beloved characters in-game.

We all knew this was inevitable, and that them living was not an option for the plot of the game, but the time has finally come to face it head-on.

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I understand that someone outside this community might be like “it’s just a game”, but I know it’s way more than that to many: the concept of a female villain that, to many, can be seen as sympathizable and even endearing, is a bit of a new concept— especially on such a large scale as this instance.

In addition, Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters have become a bit of a comfort item for some (with an emphasis on sapphics/wlw, from what I’ve seen personally) in the form of a large, protective, and caring hypothetical partner, or even just a maternal character one can appreciate simply because of her love for her children. Regardless, most of us are here due to some desire for comfort.

Take my own story with this community, for example:

(tws for death, covid, suicide, and general medical emergencies)

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Frankly, 2020 and the beginning of 2021 have ruined me. I lost two men who were the only two positive father figures I’ve ever had. The last of the two tested positive for covid and deteriorated within days, to the point where less than a week after testing positive, my family was making the choice to pull the plug. This all occurred days before Christmas and my birthday. On the first day of the spring semester, having not had the time to properly mourn my grandfather, my mother is in the ER for multiple days with an internal infection that doctors said likely would have turned septic if she had waited to come in any longer. This led to three surgeries throughout the next few months. (Oh, and one of my relatives quite literally dropped dead on that first day of class, too). I am also estranged from one of my parents, and they have been trying to contact my family: they have multiple untreated mental illnesses (severe NPD, bipolar, and more) and they are extremely aggressive in that state of mind and they are agitated extremely easily. That only brings more stress, along with resurfacing trauma and related emotions. Every moment of every day has been a struggle. So much so that I failed half of my classes voluntarily simply because I couldn't do them anymore.

To be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t expect to be here right now. I expected that the pain of simply moving forward would have finally overridden my fears of death and that I would have already ended my suffering by now.

Then, in late January, I saw something trending on Twitter. About a new female villain in an upcoming horror game. And it went from there.

As cheesy as it sounds, this fandom and its content seriously saved my life. In the darkest of days, I’ve come to this tag for comfort. The oddest way I found said comfort was through those who were attracted to Alcina aesthetically. I have extremely long-term trauma related to being bullied and being the victim of a hybrid catfishing/'Oreo Game' on early social media by peers in middle school to the point where I do not think of myself as being able to be loved, let alone being worthy of it. Finding this community not only provided a great form of escapism (and opened a door into a fantasy world where I could imagine my own person vampire milf gf), but also gained a little bit of self-esteem (as many of you know, I share a lot of visual qualities with Alcina. -yes, I'm still kinda freaked out about it-) via seeing people where features/attributes like mine were actively praised and desired rather than insulted and pushed away like they have been until now.

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(okay sorry that kinda turned into a trauma dump but I needed to emphasize the fact that this community has seriously helped me during a really dark point in my life, and I know I can't be the only one with that sort of experience)

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What I’m trying to get across here is that, like many others, this community and its content have been comforting and therapeutic, and it really is more than just a game to us. It’s entertaining and even a form of escapism in these extremely trying times. We all have some degree of PTSD from surviving a literal mass plague— and this is something we're using as a method of coping. a distraction. a coping mechanism.

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With that being said, here are some ways to hopefully assist in lessening the emotional stress:

(please note that I am not a mental health professional and these may not be healthy coping mechanisms for everyone.)

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Understand that it’s just a game.

I know, this sounds completely counterintuitive, but it’s more or less about keeping your level of immersion down. Personally, I can’t do scary shit in general: I have to listen to music on low volume while watching dark ARG vids at night or when I’m alone because I get too into it, and then my paranoia kicks in. Sometimes just pausing for a moment and grounding yourself/reminding yourself that this is a video game: a jumble of code and 3D rendering that doesn’t have to affect your views/headcanons if you don’t want it to. Did your favorite character just get slaughtered? Nope, that 3D rendering of them just got un-alived, that’s all.

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Ignorance is Bliss/We are the Captain Now

Simple: Capcom can’t even pronounce Dimitrescu right, or even acknowledge the way it’s correctly said in Romanian culture itself. How can you trust them to give you a perfect canon? That’s the thing: with that logic, you can’t. What they say is true means little (if anything, for that matter) to your headcanons and preexisting ideas of the Dimitrescus. In short: fuck ‘em.

I’m currently seeking a double major in pop culture, and one of the cool things I’ve learned so far is affirmational vs transformational fandom. Affirmational is where official canon is seen as the law of the land, and followed to a T. Transformational is seen as much more inviting for audiences, allowing them to bend canon as they wish to fit their own creations. This fandom is obviously transformational, so take that game canon, rip it up, and get back to whatever you were doing.

Capcom’s canon is not the end-all, be-all. Far from it, actually.

Want to still acknowledge canon? Godmod your way out of it.

Character A died? It’d be a shame if they emerged from the rubble they 'died in' a few hours later, very beaten but alive nonetheless... how awful would it be if they sulked away, nursed their wounds, and continued to live... (/s)

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Ignore it completely.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there w be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the in any way. Stay with the version in your head that makes you happy.

Get Creative!

If you're into creating fanart, writing fics, or even just posting a list of headcanons, take some advice from the late Carrie Fisher: "Take your broken heart, and make it into art". Make the fluff oneshot of your dreams! Draw the fanart you've been wanting to! dump lighthearted headcanons into the tags! Not only will it cheer you up, but sharing it with the community will spread the love!

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I know a lot of people are struggling with this emotionally (especially with the pandemic making entertainment like this even more important sources of escapism and coping mechanisms) and I hope that, at the very least, I was able to help comfort one person who reads this.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there will be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the flowers that bloom after major wildfires: after a period of loss, some beautiful can still come of it.

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💙