#i mean. that project is typically not A Child but y'know

[nereb-and-dungalef]

hot take but i like, super relate to victor frankenstein

[toffeebrews]

tell me your Ink headcanons NOW 😼😼😼

You're... giving me permission.... to share my ink headcanons.

well get ready

Talked about this one already but I'll share it again: I think Broomie is semi sentient. I like to think at first Ink didn't know that though, but still talked to broomie anyway. So, regardless of this fact Ink probably would've talked to broomie.

He's good at encouraging people but not comforting people. If that makes sense? (projection much pfttt)

If you ran your hand over the "tattoo" marks it have a slight divot in it. Like a crack in a road. Probably because... in my hc they're literally semi healed cracks.

They're is talented in many types of art not just one. Hes talented in singing, dancing, fashion design, mechanics, and architecture! Really the only one he struggles with is well... cooking. Do NOT let that man in a kitchen (I mean he's immortal why would he not learn multiple artistic skills?)

Y'know how canon!swap climbs on people because hes insecure about his height? I think Ink does the same thing.

(More yappening under the cut)

Deep down he feels like something is missing... what he doesn't know is he's missing his home, his AU. Sometimes hes goes on a search universe to universe in search of "something important he can't remember" but can never find it. Until he gets bored, forgets what he's doing or gets preoccupied with something else.

He likes switching up his looks so he may give himself a tail or paws or claws with his brush. Maybe he even changes the color of his limbs sometimes (that's more a crack hc though). He gives themself a new outfit at any chance he can get. (Edit: I actually imagine one of the reasons he would get excited for multiverseal events is mainly because he gets to show off a new outfit for that event. He goes ALL out)

Due to his dulled sense of pain often he isn't aware he's injured unless it's pretty severe. So he may just go about their day with injuries they don't know about. Typically Dream or Swap have to be like "dude you have a crack in your skull."

After that one comic with Swap and Ink, Swap bandaged up his skull despite Ink insisting he didn't need it. Mainly because Swap didn't know Ink could heal themself and just thought Ink was being humble. Everytime he went to go take it off, Swap would freak about it hasn't had enough time to heal. Until Ink did a more through "I have a brush bro chill" (not ink accurate dialogue).

He's super flexible!! like contortionist level of flexibility.

Oddly specific but I think they're the type to consume all sorts of fan content and enjoy it. Completely ooc and fanon stuff too. He would be the type to read a fic and go "I would NOT say that" with a giggle and write a heartfelt comment anyway.

If you know homestuck... Nepeta has a shipping wall. I think Ink would have something similar (projection?? blasphemy!). Maybe in his sketchbook or smth. I mean do you see how he reacts around his dads smh 😔😮‍💨. He doesn't take it all that seriously though... LMAO. But I feel like he would be like "🏳️‍🌈?" y'know? Is this making any sense? I hope LMAOOO

Ink knows being called "child" annoys Dream so when Dream's like "I'm not a child I'm 500 years old" he just uses different synonyms of kid " heya youngster" " hi boy" stuff like that to annoy him. Just to mess with him.

He loves "aggressive affection." Like he bites people. He also likes to be bitten (not in a sus way but like in a cat like way). He loves bear hugs. Stuff like that.

He loves being drawn on, like literally. He loves the sensation of art supplies on his bones. Particularly the texture of paint and pencil are the ones he enjoys the most. He draws designs and stuff on his bones sometimes.

He has that cartoon ability to walk on walls or the ceiling and completely defy gravity. How? Cartoon skelly powers ig.

[muzicgenerator]

Hey, can I request an angst story with Bill and reader (the reader is female) abt crazy fans please? Like them (Bill and the reader) admitting somewhere (idk maybe in an interview for a magazine) that they almost broke up because of that (maybe reader's fanbase is known for being "too much" sometimes like following the reader everywhere, being so in love with her etc)

(Also could the story take place in the 2000s please?)

Goodbye 👋

i like this one im actually excited abt writing this one shot

btw im so sorry for late reply AHSJHFKDHDK please expect ill take like AT LEAST a week to answer yalls request bc im busy as hell w school 😭😭 love u guys pls understand

and again this aint entirely proof read

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Too Much?

✮

Pairing: Bill Kaulitz x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Stalking, mention of nonconsensual touching, very embarrassing storytime from bill

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ I'm Not Okay (I Promise) : My Chemical Romance

(Time set back in late November of 2007)

Being a famous actress since as a child was unbelievably tough.

You had worked so hard and expertly; you didn't even have time to spend your childhood properly.

Just at the age of 19 and you've finished numerous movies and series. A true self-made millionaire, really.

You and your ravenette boyfriend are currently doing an interview for a night show.

"So ____, wow! After a long pause from doing films you're finally gonna have one showing soon! How is it like? Being back and all; being the talk of the country."

In the past one and a half year you hadn't done any projects since you've decided to take a break for yourself. And now you're once again busy taping with film staff and directors for your new and upcoming Teenage Romance movie.

Rest assured it's not your typical boy-meets-girl or vice versa and they do sappy sweet stuff and get together kind of film; it has its own uniqueness that will surely be called as "One of 2000s greatest Teen Romance movies of all time."

"Oh, I feel great Hanna. I had a deserving break and I'm back to doing one of the things I love most. I'm even happier because I got my lover and his band to sing the theme song for the movie." You truthfully answered and chuckled by the end of your statement.

"How about you Bill? How are things with your band?" Hanna included Bill to the conversation.

At that, he smiled politely. "Everything's great with us y'know, we're still together and all. Which I'm grateful for."

After a few more minutes for pep talk; the blonde interviewer finally decided to get onto the exciting part of the show.

"And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! Dunk Tank!" Hanna smiled widely at the selected crowd.

"Where in this game; you will pick someone from the crowd who will accompany you with this game.

Your selected teammate will ask any question they want; to which you will answer, and if you don't want to then they'll get a chance to throw a ball on the target. Where if they hit it, you'll fall down the tank."

Hanna excitedly announced despite having done this for the nth time.

"____ and Bill, play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who goes first."

You knew you'd beat Bill since every single time you played it - he'd miserably lose.

"Oh, I'm confident in winning this one!" you proudly say.

"Just because you've beat me all the other times we played this, doesn't mean I'll lose now!" Bill accepted your challenge and laughed.

He was right. He won for the very first time.

"Oh my God! Did I seriously win?!" your black clothed boyfriend exclaimed.

"I only let you win this time because I felt sorry." you playfully rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm gonna choose now." he giggled and stepped closer to the crowd.

His fan girls were screaming at the top of their lings, begging to be chosen by him.

No, you weren't jealous. Not one bit. Sometimes Bill would even complain about you not being possessive of him from time to time and would think you're not as in love as he thought.

It's cute, really. Then you'll show him how much you love him through actions rather than words.

Bill chose a girl who seemingly looked two or three years younger.

The joyous girl screamed in surprise; "Oh my god! What?! Me??! SERIOUSLY??"

It made Bill giggle, "Yes, you! Now get down here!"

A body guard helped the girl down; and when she was no longer at the stairs she rushed Bill to hug him but abruptly stopped. "Hi oh my god you're more beautiful up close! Can I hug you?!" she says excitingly.

It made your heart flutter just how kinder your boyfriend's fans are compared to yours.

To say your fan base is crazy is an understatement. Many would harass you through nasty words or touching you with no consent; it didn't matter if they did that out of how much they "love" you, it was still disgusting.

"Um, yeah. Sure!" he hesitantly looked at you; his eyes asking for permission. To which you subtly nodded.

Again, your heart melted by how he's making sure you're okay with it. Honestly, you very much understood that being famous would mean people wanting to hug you or any form of physical contact. Plus, it's not like you can say no to Bill from hugging a fan; you'd be a scandal. And you knew Bill wouldn't have any other choice as well.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulders while she fully embraced him. Okay, you're a teensy bit jealous especially by the way she's holding him like he's her man.

But that was soon washed away when she turns to you.

"Hi! What's your name sweetie?" Hanna asked and put a mic on her mouth.

"My name is Pauline!"

Before Hanna could say anything further, Pauline beat her to it.

"____!! I'm such a big fan of you too! I've been watching your movies since forever." saying she's over the moon is definitely an understatement! This will definitely be a core memory.

Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her back and squeezed her. This girl is definitely one of the most respectable and sweetest fan you've ever met.

Was it really low? Yes.

The audience cheered by how sweet you and Bill had been to the girl and by how jealous they were.

As Bill and Hanna chattered about God knows what; the girl leaned closer to you in order to ask a favour which no one can hear.

"Can I ask you to shout out my brother? He has a huge crush on you!"

"Sorry darling but we're in the middle of a show right now. How about later I ask the staff to send you to the backstage? Then I'll give him my magazine with an autograph, and if you have a camera with you - you can video me saying hi to him!" you came up with a resolution.

Was it over the top? You didn't know and you didn't care. You're just fleeting with joy by how this girl isn't like any other of your fans.

"Seriously? You'd do that for me and my brother?" she gasped.

"Well, yeah. I mean it's not always that I have such nice interactions with people who are a fan."

"Okay lovebirds what are you two talking about there?" Hanna teased with a smirk and Bill playfully pouted.

"Nothing, nothing" you laughed and held Bill's arm as the crowd laughed and cheered.

"If you say sooo." she replied. "Alright, your turn to pick!"

You carefully looked around the crowd and walked five steps of the stairs to get a better view of the people on the back. A fifteen year old boy was holding a banner stating "Bill's No.1 Boy", it was cute, really. So you planned to steal your boyfriend's fan! (this a joke dont hate reader pls)

"The ginger at the back with the banner please." you said to the mic.

The boy squeeled in delight and threw his banner somewhere before running down to you. Your arms opened for an embrace which he immediately jumped into.

"What's your name?" you put the mic to his mouth as you both carefully went down the stairs and back to the stage.

"Sam, I'm Sam! My name is Sam!" his rather high pitched voice said.

"Okay, Sam. I know you're Bill's fan so I'm gonna have to steal you, that okay?"

"Hey, no fair!" Bill patted the boy's head and shot a smile at him.

This moment for him is definitely a core memory and will brag about it to every living human he sees.

"Now, who wants to go first in the tank?" Hanna asked.

"I'll do it" Bill says excitingly.

They agreed and the staff helped him get up. Once he were seated and adjusted in the circular surface; he challenge you.

"Ask a good one!"

"Ohohoo, we definitely will!" you smirked.

You turn to Sam and ask him without the mics near your faces; "What're you gonna ask your idol?"

"Oh uhmm, I don't really know." he says bashfully.

"Maybe his most embarrassing moment?"

"That'll work, definitely." you smile supportively and fist bumped him.

"Bill, you read?!" Hanna exclaimed.

"Born ready!!"

"Alright Sam, ask away!"

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?" Sam asked with twinkles in his eyes.

"Oh, definitely when me and ____ weren't dating yet; she threw a sleepover party and she invited me and my mates, and there were three bathrooms, right? The three were being used and in one of those bathrooms it was Tom using it, and I had to rush him because I really needed to take a shit, like I couldn't hold it any farther!

So he went out really pissed and I pushed him off the door and quickly shut it and went right into business."

Bill paused and tried to compose himself as the crowd started to get louder.

"And when I washed and pushed the flush button - It wouldn't flush! So I got really scared because I just shit in my crush's toilet and I can't let anyone know that I'm the one who did it. So i looked around and saw a pack of pads so I took one of them; and forced myself to dip my hand down to grab it and I almost puked!

I look around and see there's no trash bin. So I panic again, and eventually decided I'll just rush down to throw it in the garbage in her garage. I quickly make a run for it and almost bumped into ___"

He now covered his hands in shame and embarrassment. "And she saw the pad in my hand! So she asked me like, 'Is that a pad?' and I'm like yes and so she asks whose it is...... and I said it's mine....."

You know of this story long ago; and it just gets better and better whenever you think or hear of it.

The audience and interviewer roared with laughter; as well as the staff behind and securities who tried to contain their smiles.

"I wish I never asked!" Sam wiped his tears from laughing too hard.

"Get down here Bill! That was too much!" Hanna's cheeks started to hurt, "Sorry to the viewers who are eating."

Bill went down immediately and squeezed the living life out of you. He does this whenever he's feeling embarrassed or nervous, and calls it his "Physical Support" from you.

"You should've let yourself get thrown in the water!" you giggled and hugged him back before he pulled away with a red face.

"Next goes ____!"

Once you were seated and made yourself comfortable on the seat; you tell them you're ready.

It was Pauline's turn to question whatever she wishes. "____, what do you think of your fans?"

She asks sincerely; she must've noticed something by the way you're like to your fan base and to Bill's. A part of you wished she hadn't asked but you've been dying to let the creepers out there know that whatever they'd been doing to you for a long long time - greatly affects you, especially as a young stat growing up in this sort of industry.

You rarely held any meet and greet, rarely had photos with fans where you look actually comfortable and where they weren't touching your waist or hips or near your ass - and ones where you do look comfortable it was mostly with girls or kids, which was not as often as when you do with the rest; who are pedophiles and creepy boys.

Of course you've always been nice when interacting with them; you didn't want to be rude and only wanted to be kind.

Definitely, there were times when you couldn't take it and couldn't do anything about it - other than cry and complain in your lover's arms.

You're forever thankful to have someone like him; he'd always listen to whatever you say and support everything you do.

Not realising; you zoned out quite a bit and snapped out of it when Bill called out your name with worry that he's trying to mask from everyone.

"Oh-, well, obviously I love them so much, if it weren't for them I wouldn't have succeed this much - of course the people who helped me get up in this industry as well.

I truly do appreciate their love and support, seriously. But quite the number of them are uh, how do I say this." you nervously chuckled as everyone listened intently to the tea you're telling.

"Crossing my boundaries? Yes, uh- that." you say not quite satisfied with the word you chose. It was evident that it's worse than just that but the safest.

"We all know people would cross it by taking unsolicited pictures of you, that's given because you're a celebrity, but are there some other ways they would? If you don't mind me asking of course." Hanna carefully asked.

You smiled softly, "Well a few have stalked me to my house - which I dunno how the hell they did so and took pictures of me and they'd send it to me and tell me how they thought of me. Some leave love letters, flowers, food in front of my gate, sent death threats to my exes when I was dating them and even now to my Bill." you left the worse parts out since you didn't want half of the world to be talking about your most private part of life. What you're even telling them now is a whole lot.

"Wow.. we all knew your fan base could get a bit crazy judging from all the videos we see and the news, but not by this much!" Hanna says empathetically.

"It happens, I guess." you try to laugh it off. However, Bill looked at your hues with his that sent the message of "Are you okay?"

In which yours replied with "I'm not okay."

✮✮✮

The game went on a for it was Pauline's turn to the dunk tank, then Sam's.

You continued your cheery self through the whole taping and told yourself you'll regret what you said later in your dressing room. Bill kept his distance close to you and would caress your hand or shoulder as a sign of support - as well as slipping a "How're you holding up?" every now and then.

If there were billions of ways to show gratitude to this man; you'd do every single one of it to him.

After the agonizing show was over; you and Bill kissed Hanna's cheeks as a goodbye and thank you. To which she said back to you both as well and wished to see you soon.

As you made your way to the dressing room in silence with your fingers intertwined with Bill's; you abruptly stop in your tracks.

"I almost forgot I have to sign a magazine for Pauline!"

Your lover looked confused for a second "What? Why?"

"I kinda promised Pauline I'll just sign a magazine for her brother because she asked me to shout him out while taping." you let a small huff and loosened your grip on your boyfriend's slender hand. "How about I'll see you later in the van? You can wait for me there instead if I haven't been back by five minutes."

Bill smiled, "Of course sweetheart, I'll see you later. Love you." he pecked your lips and lovingly looked into your eyes for a moment before heading to his dressing room.

Quickly; you asked a staff to bring Pauline to your dressing room to give her an autograph - to which they agreed to. Thankfully.

While they did that, you strided to your room and grabbed your magazine and marker - which immediately after doing so, a knock was heard on your door.

You hand held the paper as the other gripped the violet ink marker. When you did, you were greeted by a Pauline smiling widely with a camera on her right hand.

"Hi!" she says excitingly.

You greet back and quickly hugged her, "I see you have a camera with you."

"Oh, yes, uhm.. I was wondering if i can take a video of you signing an autograph? So my brother would believe me that it really is from you." she nervously giggled. "I might or might now have pranked him once by giving him a fake autograph."

"Yeah, sure. What's your brother's name?" you say softly.

"It's Percy." she answers as she readies her camera.

"Alright, is it rolling?" you ask with a smile on your face. Pauline says yes with a grateful smile; grateful for being how considerate and kind you are.

"Hi Paul! So I heard from your sister that you're a fan? Too bad you didn't come with her." you looked behind the camera to Pauline.

"And I heard she gave you a fake autograph of mine? Well now, you're getting a real one, and this is the proof." you say still giggling as you signed the magazine.

"There, and keep the pen. I gotta go now, bye and love you!" you say as you waved goodbye and gave your iconic kiss blow alongside a wink.

Once Pauline returned the camera back to her bag; she immediately thanked you.

"I'm serious - thank you thank you sooo much! And uh.. I'm really sorry if what I asked earlier was too personal. I really am. I was just curious and didn't thoroughly before it slipped my mouth." she noticed the change of the atmosphere long ago. Even if she's just fifteen, she knew how to read the room well.

"Aw, sweetie.. it's nothing." you pat her shoulder, "It's fine I tell ya, also I better get going - you should too, it'll get dark in just two hours. Bye bye and stay safe!" you wave goodbye as she still exclaimed thank you's as she walked backwards towards the exit.

(that footage is definitely gonna go viral after many years)

In a light speed; you gathered your essential belongings and had your personal assistant help you carry your other belongings to the van; to which Bill noticed through the windows that you're carrying back pack and a purse and immediately helped you despite having it under perfect control.

He opened the door for you and let you in first before him and closed the door. Your personal assistant sat in the passenger seat next to the driver, while you and your beloved were at the very back despite the space up front.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he put his above yours while he held your hand with both of his; tracing every outline, massaging it, and kissing it once in a while.

"R'you okay now?" Bill mumbled and kissed your head.

"Yes, hon. I'm great actually.. thanks so much for being there, I love you so much." you turn your head to face his and pecked his lips.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, I'm glad you're okay." he smiled genuinely and kissed you deep and passionate.

You returned to your head's original position and fell to sleep; not caring if tomorrow, you'll be the town's talk.

[youngbonescomic]

MASTERPOST

So here is some things about the Young Bones AU:

-this is just a small lil idea of just the whole kindness is a virtue type of vibe

-timeline is s2 special but also during s2

-Bái Lù in this AU will be an only child to Mayor

-her name will be Bái Lù so its more connected to a White Dew tea

-She has also a hidden ability similar with hibiscus herb that's associated with her.

-So Lady Bone Demon in this AU has no human form, just a pure projection of herself. She wants Bái Lù as a host since chief of war found his . It's a cat and mouse game for Bái Lù and LBD but she's making the Mayor do the chasing

-Mayor is a necromantic puppet, so as soon as he passed, instantly has his soul trapped by LBD so the Chief of War can be reborn

-Who freed her? Syntax did. Unspidery during the beginning of things

-Mayor was hiding the fact he was sick from his daughter to not make her worry. Plus also to do the typical dad thing of just 'your cooped up in this house go on out and mingle' kind of thing being an only child

-that's what makes Syntax lean more towards trying to save his life by seeking a cure for illment.

-Syntax in this AU will be basically Mayor's armor and weapon. He comes across similar to Catch a Leaf, the same herb and plans to fetch it through his research and set out to find that having no idea of where the heck to go

-That is until your man syntax gets lured by a spider,a Spider Queen to be exact, but definitely more used as an empty vessel for LBD to lure nonturned Syntax to the cite of where the skeleton key is. Keep in mind the whole journey there he's constantly just a sassy brat about "y'know this isn't the type of place I'd imagine a key to be" "Whats so important about just a key, oh thats right. Nothing." and this boils possessed Spider Queen because all she cares about is him opening the coffin so she just responds with "Your following me because of your curiosity and false righteousness.

-Syntax refuses to open the actual coffin of LBD once finding the key, possessed Spider Queen thinks up a deal to strike. She'll help him locate the herb, and he can keep the key for himself. He agrees.

-Bái Lù in the meantime is mainly spending her time at the noodle shop, everyone knows of her because they think her dad is neglecting her. But they never say it outloud to her. Pigsy seeing that she's constantly coming to the shop alone starts asking 'what's up with the Mayor amiright?' And then it's like she's petting Mo as he says that and like her face is like 'wait a minute, he NEVER turns down homemade noodles".

  -She only starts to realize that through talking to everyone, her dad is declining, but she's determined to find out herself from a health expert

-That health expert being Syntax

-He's back in the city, and sees the daughter of the Mayor waiting at the doorway of his laboratory, it's late in the evening and invites her in and calls the Mayor just to notify where she was in case he got worried (he was)

-Baī notices the herb and asks if it's for someone. "Like tea wise sorry someone with a lot of cats showed me the process."

-Syntax plucked a petal to show it off more. " Yes, it is...I believe your father is sick and might possibly..no longer be with us."

-"What do you mean..?

"....Let me make you some tea, ms." He uses that pedal to make a cup of tea for her and told her everything. She drinks that tea and is immune to any type of possession in her spirit

-in this AU Mystic Mayor will be taking a more hauntingly just always there type of role and more traits of a cheif of war hunting down their enemy down to the nose 

-I am making LBD reincarnate the Chief of War have a complicated relationship as a separate thing in its own

-Mayor passes on that night, and gets reincarnated right in front of Bái Lù and now we got Mystic Mayor

-Lady Bone Demon tries to posses but fails (she got bested by a child lol)

-To make things worse, when Baí Lú came back to the laboratory to tell Syntax what happened, he told her to get the key and that things won't be the same.

  -Macaque in this AU has his own theater trope cuz I just want him to take pride in something that he doesn't copy from Wukong

-Mac  is very distant with Baí Lù at first but then warms up to her in his disguised form eventually offering a job for her. Realizing also how she’s like his inner child the immediate protective instincts kick in being a found baba to Bai Lu

  -He still got snark and witty sarcasm about his relationship with Wukong but doesn't reveal to her who he actually is cuz, trust issues

-He wanted to pranked her at first by saying the position for the job would be a janitor position and Bài Lù just coming from seeing her father hunt her down and Syntax getting turned she's just like "Sure but I can't clean up after the shadows of my mistakes :'D' and that was enough to get the job. But to also watch over her and be all ‘talk shit about me all you demons want, but the SECOND you utter my daughter's name, haha run.’

-Qi Xiaotian in this AU is going to be Wukong's successor still as the Monkie Kid, but kind of shadowing over him and actually disguises his monkie form

-He knows Bái Lù  from the shop and also running into her because of her cat trying to catch a bird with a monkey tail following him when delivering orders 

Has questions. Like how does one not get possessed by the Lady Bone Demon.

-if anything QXT just wants to know how this happened with Mystic Mayor letting LBD control him.  He follows Baí Lù and sees her enter the dojo one time and immediately thought Macaque was the one to blame for letting LBD out.

-So he pops in whenever she is alone outside of the dojo to keep her away from Macaque and starts to pry in how she thinks she didn't get possessed

-Sun Wukong in this AU is not retired, but acts like he is. Still got some over confidence and his staff.

-He got nightmares comin to him too since LBD has been released, and they all involve with being shown mercy by his master.

-Sun though would do anything to keep his mind busy just to not remember the Lady Bone Demon.

- Sun's relationship with Macaque is exactly the Sun and the Moon fueled with them being protective to their given humans.

-He met the daughter of the Mayor by one of the shadow portals and she just crashed into Flower Fruit Mountain by another close call from Mystic Mayor

-and she was beyond frightened, so I'm keeping the fact too that Wukong is great with kids. He just assumes Macaque "accidentally" shadow yeeted someone and doesn't even wanna know. Like he just hears a thump of someone face planted in the waterfall and thinks it's MK, until he sees someone else waddling out of the waterfall, upset and shaken up from Mystic Mayor finding her. But she doesn't share this.

-Bonding time happens and he realizes that this was the same kid MK told him about and something about it being a Mayor and Lady Bone Demon coming...back--

-He's furious cuz not only is he upset that she's back, but Macaque is back 

-But in the end he is still able to put his differences aside if it's to keep Bài Lù from becoming someone's prisoner.

-What gets him to reconsider is because of remembering the dreams regarding being merciful, and it's something the Monk did to seal LBD in the first place

-Mr. Tang, my man in Young Bones AU is quite literally served as a bookmark. Like even with him being a linguist, there's still the golden cicada that is very present in his studies that help with him basically time travel.

-He only works with the mystic law of the universe and is unironically not letting Wukong's master soul rest, which he is aware of

-How he is apart of the story is being Bai Lu's guide into looking at the bigger picture of everything and to never stop asking questions, even to the ones that don't always have an answer.

-Pigsy in this AU is not just protective of Bai Lu, but a big BIG advocate of the youth speaking their truth, all thanks to his own fostering experience with learning who MK really is.

-Pigsy is dense man, like he is surprised still at how Tang is interested in someone like him that has quite a temper. Also knowing full well that Tang is unawaken and tries to get him to his full potential

-He is a huge softy to Bai Lu though not because of her title of the kid of the Mayor, but because she respects his craft and is very fond of her stubbornness and determined attitude.

-hates the Mayor all because he suspects the "living" Mayor neglecting and abusing Bai Lu at home and that doesn't sit quite well with him.

-Sandy and Mo in this AU are of course the nicest duo and serve as the teachers for Bai Lu to defeat her demons and the threats against her, which he knows takes a life-time. Its actually because of Bai Lu that he began adopting cats as therapy animals so, he’s always in her corner.

-Long Xiaojiao in this AU is much much muuuch less combative and more mature in her own identity. She has big sibling vibes just as much as MK but knows more of her dragon form instead of being discrete. Oh yeah, and she can directly help Bai Lu with either tai chi or astral protection to help with the feeling of helplessness.

-Also would chuck her motercycle no questions

-Red Son in this AU is the bull demon’s prince of demons so he’s going to suspect that Bai Lu having the skeleton with her is just working with the lady bone demon, having a bit of an edge on the one time DBK got possessed so doesn’t trust her

-Until the underground begins to get in the way of his dealings that he learns that it was not the girls fault, and he sees the same neglectful energy with Mayor and his daughter

-and yes he has a bull demon form with full samadhi fire guardian 

[genshinconfessions]

"Actually, Nahida only takes a smaller form because she's the youngest archon--"

So you're telling me she identifies most with a child body.

"Well, no, see she's just short-"

But you just related her form to her age and how she percieves her age

"Yeah, but she's so mature-"

Because of the trauma. Literally as a result of her trauma. Maybe she could've aged differently and chosen her form as such should she have been given a proper upbringing, but that doesn't change the fact that as of now she Views herself as a Child and Projects The Body Of One.

---- I'm sorry, I can't - with Sigewinne being revealed, I've been seeing more shit sexualizing children and I'm Tired. Lets just put it to rest, okay? Tall body models? Typically adults, no exceptions come to mind. Medium body models? Some young adults and some teenagers.

But characters with the Smallest Model? It's not just short. Look at their proportions. If they were just short, they'd still have similar proportions to the previous models, but they don't. Their heads are largened with softened features and their body shape matches other child models in the game. An argument for body type also doesn't work given Genshin isn't exactly inclusive and such logic would only apply to one of the three model categories. They are children. Stop fucking around with your "AcTUaLly" - It doesn't matter. You are attracted to CHILDREN and need HELP. If not help, then to be on a list. Either check yourself and improve, or at least quit making excuses so the rest of us can ignore you as we so please whilst also redirecting younger members of the community.

Not to mention, those that plea and cry that their "waifus" aren't actually children and are just short adults, typically don't have that reflect in their content created and consumed. Maybe I'd take y'all a little more at face value if y'all actually y'know, drew and wrote what you supposedly believe. Hell, it'd still be a problem if it were Jean or Lisa being sexualized, but drawn and written blatantly as children.

Also, anyone that may want to say "oh, you don't believe in short people" - I DO. I AM a short person. A short asian person who has been infantalized and not treated as an adult. But I have also been a child who was sexualized. And now both intermingle in my life. I am sick and tired of it all. It's all just shitty excuses. Thirst after literally anything else. Work out whatever you have going on with consenting adults instead of projecting it onto public media that has an audience of varying ages Including Minors. Additionally; Venting, coping, and exploring darker topics via fiction is NOT the same as GLORIFYING and INDULGING. That line should be Very Distinct.

(one last point: some people say characters like Dori and Sigewinne are a salesperson and nurse respectively, adult professions, yeah? Well friendly reminder, Barbara is ALSO a nurse. Fischl is an adventurer, and she's no older than 16. We are going by FANTASY LOGIC in which children can wield weapons and explore nations with little to no supervision! The given profession of any character as well as their attire means nothing in that kind of world.)

i'm sorry you've had to go through such things, anon :///

but i agree with you; it's a problem that definitely extends outside of genshin but for some reason, ppl seem so desensitized to it and shrug it off as 'oh waifu go brrrr' which is quite irresponsible imo

i'm a big proponent of 'fiction is fiction and you can think whatever you want as long as it doesn't harm anyone', but in this case, these things DO harm ppl; they harm all the very young children who play genshin and partake in fandom discussions

it's very important for everyone to realize that even if a piece of media is fictional and thinking/saying/doing certain things won't hurt the characters, your actions will absolutely set an example in real life, very possibly harming the younger members of the fandom

the line is quite gray sometimes, in fandom circles, and it might be hard to tell what's 'okay' and what's 'not okay', but i think most ppl have a good sense of what's simply enjoying a character vs sexualizing them

and hence, it becomes our responsibility to call out the things that are disturbing and potentially harmful. even if the original person who did those things won't change, you've at least spread awareness to others and let them know that [whatever the thing was] is unacceptable

katheryne from liyue

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 6

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There's non-explicit smut in this part!

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Remember that questionable morals remark? Yea, this chapter is the reason. Y/N, girl, you gotta stop... But at least it's kinda funny. Okay, it's pretty damn hilarious.

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She is amazing. I larb her. 💙

"And then I was like 'No Way!' and he was like 'Totally' and that's how I met Tony Stark," I finished excitedly, opposite a laughing Mr. Davies. The story of how I met Iron Man was a total hit with the teacher and my vigorous mimicking of the facial expressions that described my feelings during the time had my teacher busting a gut something loud. 

"I honestly have some trouble believing that but - hey, what the hell, he's a billionaire superhero, it's basically expected for him to be a little strange," When his laughing fit was over, Mr. Davies reminded me he was, in fact, a psychology doctor. There was serious brain power under that easygoing attitude.

I expected detention to be bearable in his company but Mr. Davies rose above expectations, welcoming me with another cup of tea and some colouring pages. Admittedly, I contemplated stealing some - those mandalas were really captivating.

"Oh, he's strange alright, but nothing I can't handle," I twirled a pencil between my fingers. 

Mr. Davies grinned knowingly, too knowingly for my comfort, and I had no choice but to make a stone face before looking him in the eye. 

He smirked. "So, anything else interesting for you going on?" 

"Nah, not much. Really looking forward to being done with high school and going out into the bigger world, y'know."

"You turned 18 already, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "Maybe get a job, something part-time? OsCorp always hands these leaflets out, they're looking for lab assistants."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't need a job. Plus, I'm sure Bruce-err, Doctor Banner would smash me if I went to work at OsCorp," I glossed over my slip-up, hoping Mr. Davies would do the same. But no such luck happened.

"Right. Me and Bruce, we actually go way back," He smiled, stirring his tea. I perked up in interest. "We studied psychology together, sat next to each other in half of our classes. It's a shame what happened to him but I hope he's happy now," Mr. Davies was smiling earnestly, looking out of the window where rain had started flowing down on the glass.

"Really? That's cool," I said, lacking anything else to add to his statement.

"He used to skip classes and always lost his glasses even though they'd be on top of his head," My teacher continued. "Banner was actually quite a rowdy student," He added with a smirk.

"Hah, he still routinely loses his glasses, although he wears them on a string around his neck now," I chuckled fondly. Bruce was such a dork.

I chatted with Mr. Davies some more, just casual conversation about everything and nothing in between. His parents were hippies, he had two moms and one dad and according to him, Thor was very overrated. I didn't even notice we were up in each other's space until our knees brushed when Mr. Davies - "Call me Will" - was showing me the pictures of his cats, dog and lizard. I figured that as the hippy child, personal space was kind of a foreign concept to him - and that rang true, I've seen Will give out more shoulder grabs and high fives than anyone else sans the gym teacher.

The clock's ding announced 6 PM and I quickly gathered my things, hastily saying goodbye. I was stopped though.

"If you don't mind a quick stop at my house, I can drop you off. It's pouring buckets outside and I would hate you to get sick," Will spoke casually. 

Technically, I knew he was bending some rules of conduct. But it was also 55° outside and the water coming from the sky was unlikely to be warm. So I caved without any guilty conscience, obediently following Mr. Davies -Will- to the parking lot where a new-ish Jeep Cherokee proudly stood amongst several older, less gently used cars. With New York city traffic being the way it is, I didn't text Bruce yet, fully expecting for the trip to take a whole hour if not more. 

Thankfully the parking gods were merciful and Will managed to find a spot right across his two-story townhouse. "You're welcome to come in if you feel comfortable, I just need to fetch some documents," He said.

And that's where I fucked up. I nodded affirmatively, I followed him through the door and made myself as comfortable as I could on his living room couch. It was a cozy home, his iguana chilled opposite me in it's terrarium and the little mutt that was his dog really reminded me of the atrocity that my parents used to own before they had me. It yipped and yapped, wagging it's bushy tail at me and demanding pets.

The steaming tea mug was dutifully placed in my hand by Will who hopped upstairs immediately after that, skipping steps. I watched the man with a benign stare: he'd removed his sweater and I could see the defined muscles of his back and the admirable backside that he possessed. There was no harm in looking respectfully, right?

I was halfway through my mug when Will came back down, brandishing a truly impressive stack of manila folders, setting it on a nearby table before sitting down on the other end of the couch, maintaining a respectful distance between us. We chatted some more and the more he spoke about his current research, the more passionate he became; by the end of his truly epic description of the effects that anti-depressants have on the learning process of depressed adolescents, I was mesmerized by the way his pink lips formed words.

Sitting with my calves tucked under my butt, leaning against the armrest , I was a goner. He caught my eye, diverting his own stare from my exposed legs to the side, blinking furiously. It calmed my spirits somewhat, knowing that I wasn't the only one affected by the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. My mug landed on the low table with a loud clang as I leaned forward, the sleeves of my sweater accidentally brushing against his leg.

Will cleared his throat and I startled, tilting my head up towards him in confusion. He was staring at me with a mix of fear and delight in his eyes, like a boy preparing for his first kiss. I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if the darkness in his stormy grey eyes didn't make my own breath do somersaults somewhere between my lungs and my esophagus.

Fifteen minutes later, both my sweater and my panties were thrown somewhere in the furthest end of the room and those thin lips were making me see stars. For some reason he was convinced I'd had only typical teenage disappointing sex up to this point and was really eager to show me what a grown man can do. I mean, I wasn't complaining, he was really, really good with his mouth - but I didn't have all night, so I flipped the tables and showed off my own oral skills until he had to bodily remove me from his dick and lift me onto it. Every movement felt surreal, like I was living in a dream. Despite my common sense yelling expletives at me, I kissed Will back with twice the heat and none of the finesse, each of us reaching the peak nearly in sync.

"Can I get that ride to the tower now?"

Will let out a decidedly unmanly squeak when he realised where exactly he'd be taking me after we did what we'd done. I smiled at him in hopes of calming down the man but it seemed it came out more predatory. He shivered, his dick twitching within me.

I texted Bruce the same time I was getting into Will's car. My brain was still somewhat in a state of shock and I used the brief moment to tidy up my hair and makeup, taking note of my sex-flushed face. I only hoped I didn't stink like man-sweat and Will's cologne. 

Another realization was startled out of me: that was my first time having had sex without a condom. I was on birth control since I was fourteen so pregnancy wasn't a scare; currently, I was more worried about the mildly uncomfortable, wet feeling in my panties where my teacher's cum had pooled out.

Yikes. That moment Will took a careful monitoring of my facial expression and it took me a lot to keep it somewhere between neutral and happy. Internally, I was freaking the fuck out, torn between horror and incredible arousal.

It morphed into full fledged mortification when I saw Bruce's lab coat from afar, the man standing next to the entrance door. Having had a dumb moment, I texted Banner that a former schoolmate of his was the one giving me a ride and it really shouldn't have been a surprise that Bruce would go downstairs to greet Will.

'Fuck you, you dumbass,' was my approximate train of thought, directed at myself, when all three of us gathered, hiding from the cold rain and the autumn wind under the safety of the roof. Both men shared a brief, warm embrace before Bruce's arm snaked around my waist.

"You go upstairs, okay? I don't want you to get sick," Banner said, eyeing the disastrous weather.

I looked at Will, finding his eyebrow cocked at Bruce's frivolous gesture and a faint flush blossoming on his face. The man shuffled awkwardly, giving me a small wave and a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to Bruce. I wished him good night, hastily retreating into the safety of the elevator.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-u-uck..." I chanted under my breath, acutely aware of the blossoming bruises on my hips where my teacher held me, the dampness of my underwear. 

The elevator doors opened, revealing the common room couch being occupied by Wanda. Peter, Wanda's brother and the two resident super soldiers setting the table for dinner. Tony was off bickering with Loki and Strange by the coffee maker and Thor was standing outside on the patio, doing something very strange with his hands and his hammer. Was he summoning the shitty weather?! The audacity!

"Hey," Wanda greeted me quietly. Her eyebrows raised upon seeing my face full of perplexed confusion. "You okay?.. Wait, what? Tell me you did not!" As my internal crisis reached its peak, I remembered that a) Wanda is a telepath and b) There were other people in the room.

One ungraceful landing next to her later, I turned my bleary stare onto her. "Oops?" I offered in the way of explanation. What was I supposed to say if I didn't know for myself what the devil possessed me to fuck my social studies teacher after school? He was fucking hot, okay.

The witch smirked, obviously following my defensive internal monologue. "Oops?" Her tone was laced with gleeful sarcasm.

"I'm a human disaster," I groaned, finally caving in and palming my face. Wanda began snickering. "I have zero impulse control," I continued wallowing in self-pity. The redhead just cackled harder.

"I feel so attacked right now," Tony's voice loudly announced the man's presence. I was thankful for the distraction, happy that today, out of all the days, he decided to make the situation about himself. "I am the resident hot mess and nothing you do will change that. Or get out of my tower," He made a dramatic gesture, waving along everybody to the table.

At the dinner table, with Peter on one side of me and Bruce on the other, Wanda's speech was clear. "I think you two are about on the same level, Tony," Her tone was dry. The looks she cast me were cheeky at best and downright gleeful at worst. Not only was she the resident telepath but also, apparently, a huge drama fan.

I, on the other hand, felt like a fish thrown out of water. My mind was still jumping between astounded and horrified like a rabid rabbit and Bruce's excited remark about seeing a former schoolmate only worsened the anxiety. My brain was telling me EVERYBODY knew EVERYTHING whereas in reality, it was only Wanda and it didn't seem like she was upset enough to give up my dirty little secret. If anything, the witch seemed almost impressed. And that dry, mildly interested facial expression only solidified when she put two and two together: my teacher, whom I fucked, also known as Bruce's former study buddy.

"I have some spare sweatpants that might fit you," Wanda directly addressed me as we were finishing up the wonderful chicken roast courtesy of Clint and Bucky. Nobody batted an eye at the sudden exclamation, evidently used to being around someone who could hear their thoughts. 

I nodded, mentally waving a big, red thank you note. With sparkles. And hearts. Wanda chuckled.

"Hey, did you change your perfume?" Peter's innocent remark made me nearly freeze in my spot. 

Kill Bill sirens started playing in my head on repeat as I heard Wanda choke on her asparagus, inadvertently drawing attention to the three of us. Peter looked at us in confusion: Wanda kept on gasping, but it seemed like the dam had finally burst and she was laughing in earnest, snorting, loudly, as I engaged my willpower to stop myself from doing the same. Needless to say, it was a spectacular failure and now both of us were bent over our dinner plates, absolutely losing it - much to the concern of the adults present at the table. The rest of the team was growing concerned.

"Oh my god, your FACE!" Wanda's incoherent mumbling and the accusing finger pointed in my direction did it.

"A lady doesn't... kiss... and tell...." I fervently gulped the oxygen as I tried to articulate my thoughts into something comprehendible. The hysterical laughter won by a wide margin.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Natasha seemed to get the gist, relaxing immediately and picking up her fork to continue her meal. 

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Bruce chuckled from somewhere beside me and just like that, the tension broke. The adults in the room traded knowing looks, chuckling and snorting amongst themselves. 

The moments I needed to calm down went to waste really quick: my first laughing fit over, I took one look at Wanda and yet again, both of us were puffing out our cheeks to try and prevent another hysterical fit. 

"Whew," I exaggerated, eyes wide and looking ANYWHERE but at Wanda.

"What a wild ride," She snorted and I put a palm over my face, shaking my head in... 

Disappointment at myself? I wasn't disappointed. Now that I got over the WTF factor, I found the situation to be pretty damn hot. Will was hot. Eh, whatever. 

My casual mood of zero-fucks-given began returning. After few of the last bites of potatoes, I was prepared to face  Natasha. I looked the Black Widow dead in the eye as I firmly stated: "And for the record? We are NOT having this conversation."

She elegantly arched her eyebrow whilst everybody else held their breath. "That bad, huh?" The retort was immediate.

I allowed myself to radiate a bit of that newly acquired smugness I had begun to feel: "You have no idea," I hoped my smirk was as devious as I wished it to be.

"Alright, heartbreaker, colour me impressed," Natasha nodded in affirmation. We shared another meaningful look and reverted back to our plates with the menfolk observing us akin animals at a zoo. 

Somewhat amazed, slightly afraid. Bruce's stare was somewhat concerned, too: he contemplatively eyed me from the corner of his eye, the same way I eyed him, checking out the fact that he appeared somewhat annoyed. Like a proper father would, I suppose. 

Luckily for me, I finished off the remaining food and drink quickly, with Wanda being my saviour once again as she all but bodily dragged me into the elevator, promising to return me to the science den in no more than an hour. Tony went to complain but was promptly stopped by Natasha inconspicuously reaching for the butter knife: the engineer knew how to pick his battles. I didn't doubt that Romanoff was going to hear "all about it" second-hand from Wanda and I was fully prepared to face the redhead spy's judgement. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, escaped that clever woman.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I sat on Wanda's couch, nervously fiddling with the two sizes too big sweatpants, occasionally stopping to straighten the plain white tank top that just barely fit me. I washed my hair but didn't  dry it before Wanda was impatiently telling me to hurry up: the mess sat atop my head held up by a single scrunchie.

"Okay... Where do I start?" She asked me, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

"Don't start," I stopped her with a raised palm. "It was a casual, one-time thing and I've no interest in pursuing that shit on the reg," I answered honestly. The fact that he was my teacher simultaneously worsened the situation and made me elated. But ultimately, I didn't want to risk the trouble that would come along with this mess. Besides, I had no feelings for the guy whatsoever. As I've said previously, it was just bad impulse control on some teenage hormone steroids.

"You're a strange one," Wanda's penetrating gaze made me shiver. "You live without a care in the world but at the same time, your mind is always all over the place. It is interesting."

"Uh, thanks? I guess?"

"I think we should try being friends," The witch remarked after a brief moment of awkward silence. I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Because of my powers, I can literally see through people and predict what they will do before they even think about doing it. With you, it's not like that," She explained, her Slavic accent making a full guest appearance.

"So...you want to be friends because I'm a fucking mess?" I couldn't help but feel a little offended. The occasional shitty decision aside, I didn't think of myself as that bad.

"I want to be friends because I like you," Wanda fondly rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch and motioning for me to follow. "Now let's get you to Tony or he'll blow a gasket. He's already insufferable as he is."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

[luque-moreau]

y'know i think its about time ive refurbished my psychonauts headcanons/theories

what??? me??? rewriting my psychonauts headcanons in a more comprehensible and informed way???

ye

alright, i think everyone knows what im talking about, by headcanons i mean headcanon as in singular, and as singular, i mean my "raz is somewhere on the spectrum of adhd".

so lets just get into it:

what is adhd actually?

adhd by definition stands for attention deficit hyperactive/hyperfocus disorder (yes, let me get into the details in just a sec). it is a nerodevelopmental disorder that is almost completely reliant on genetic factors, however conditions during pregnancy can sometimes contribute to certain aspects of how adhd manifests itself.

long story short, people with adhd have a smaller frontal lobe, and therefore less dopamine in general (even though yes, it is more complicated than that).

theres also a little bit of "chicken or the egg first" goin on here, certain behaviors or personality tendencies can also affect how adhd is presented in one individual to the next, however its still not clear if that is because it is an accommodating for a certain thought process or if someones experiences and personality shape their symptoms of adhd entirely. its a very blurry line, and the answer is different for everybody.

hyperactive type

hyperactive type is probably the closest to most stereotypical depictions of adhd, think the 5 year old whos parents brush off their child’s hyperactivity as something that will “go with age”. however, this isn’t only present in children, adults with adhd have to deal with a constant need for stimuli to make up for the lack of dopamine their current activity is providing them. this results in someone fidgeting frequently in repetitive or predictable motions, unable to hold attention to a specific task for long periods of time, or many other of the symptoms associated with adhd.(i sadly cannot provide more information in this area, i am not knowledgeable enough to...)

hyperfocus type

hyperfocus type is a tricky one, it can look like the complete opposite of adhd in theory. hyperfocus can look similar to special interests or hyperfixation, a great deal of time and knowledge dedicated to a very particular thing (although it is important to note that even though hyperfixations and special interests are incredibly similar, special interests is a term more typically used within autistic-circles, and isnt really the best word to use if you happen to be neurotypical). Think of maybe that kid who knows all the cool animal facts and won’t shut up about them. Its because certain trains of thought or activities might release more dopamine then others, so to get more of that dopamine, someone of hyperfocus type will be mentally unable to stop thinking or doing a very specific task or topic. this results in someone seemingly always spacing out, unable to change subjects or changing subjects too fast or with little to no correlation, or being completely unable to have enough motivation to do simple things.

personally i tend to fall under the category of hyperfocus myself rather than hyperactive, however the two are not mutually exclusive, its more common to find people with both types rather than just one. even myself, i might exhibit more tendencies to place me under the label of hyperfocus, but that doesn’t mean i don’t have any symptoms of the hyperactive type. its my personality that affects my mannerisms, which then makes certain aspects of my symptoms more or less apparent. Thats because im an INTP-T, i just tend to be more to myself and constantly in a state of thinking abstractly. I have trouble communicating and even sometimes recognizing my needs, and get to a point where im unable to do the simplest of things without feeling emotionally drained. Thats just my experience though, everybodys different. 

so what the fuck does this have to do with raz then?

well lets think about it, rather than have it just be me projecting myself onto a comfort character:

raz finds issue with connecting to kids his age

lets be honest. none of the campers really like raz that much. or at least some do the bare minimum to be try and be polite. it doesn’t seem like any of the other campers besides dogen, whos also socially outcasted, are really fond of raz. lili might like him, but that can definitely be interpreted as curiosity in someone new and different from the norm. It might not be that the kids despise him, but nobodys opinionated enough to care whether he is around or not.

social isolation is one of the most damning things i had to experience from an early age and still feel even today. there is a sense of feeling that you are different among your peers, whether that is a good thing or bad thing. it feels difficult to interact with other people you are not familiar with, and can really stunt you emotionally and socially. from a really early age, theres somethin in you that knows something is very different between the experiences of your peers compared to your own, and it can feel incredibly isolating.

raz and his borderline stupidity

time to get real again. raz is a fucking idiot. at least in the sense that sometimes his decisions seem incredibly spontaneous and not really thought through. he runs from home to attend a summer camp, not really thinking about the logistics of how he will get there, how the staff will react, how long its gonna take for his parent to find him, and so on. it doesn’t seem like he over or underestimates his abilities, he just goes for it without considering. that doesnt seem like the smartest thing to do, even though we know hes incredibly intelligent when it comes to larger, abstract situations. its the little details that he misses, small minuet things that seem unimportant that he overlooks, which can sometimes make things harder for him in the end.

i think its obvious that impulsivity is one symptom of adhd. however i cannot stress how difficult it is to think at supersonic speed and still feel incredibly stupid. i mean, thinking faster doesn’t inherently mean you will have better ideas, you can always be stupider faster, but being able to realize stupid mistakes or inconsistencies in your own thought process is annoying as hell. it feels like every time you try to recognize the issue, fix it, and move forward, you only end up not paying attention to another issue that gets bigger and more annoying than the first. Its always two steps forward, one step back, constantly making the same mistakes even though you try everything in your power to avoid them or grow as a person. The simplest of facts, ideas, or just things to remember end up being forgotten, and once youre reminded of them you remember them and feel like an idiot. however, arbitrary things and complex issues are much easier to digest and remember for me, things like history and the whole blame game charade of it all, biology and how every minuet thing has a greater impact on others and intertwines with every single factor of its environment, philosophy and theorizing why we think the way we do and what can be changed. but oh shit, im a dumbass i forgot to do my laundry. shit. god fuckin dammit.

empathy over sympathy

one of the basic themes of psychonauts is empathy. simple as that. raz goes around into other peoples brains, and tries to help them as much as he can, even if his efforts are not always successful in the way he intended. he never demonizes anyone to the point of unredeemability, and can empathize and understand other peoples perspectives. hes open to new ideas and

although some studies out there theorize that empathy is impaired due to adhd, from my perspective i feel like that is simply not true. if anything, i would say the sensitivity that comes with adhd (hypersensitivity) only enhances that empathy. i could definitely see social disconnection being one of the reasons it might appear that someone with adhd is less empathetic, however i would doubt that adhd would impair a persons empathy. adhd tends to also entail heightened emotions, this doesn’t necessarily mean a more outwardly emotional person, however it definitely shifts a persons perspective of their own emotions as well as others. the concept of hypersensitivity also completely contradicts the idea of people with adhd be less empathetic.

miscommunication and disconnect

sigh, the dad thing. yup. raz has that very iffy relationship with his dad at the beginning of the game which is eventually resolved. very abruptly, might i add. but thats not what this is about, thats a topic for another day. miscommunication seemed to be the root of the issue, however we only get razs side of the story. not to mention the severity of his claims and willingness to seemingly drop everything afterwards. kinda sus, ngl.

alright this ones a doosey. this, i feel, cements my theory pretty well. like i mentioned before, social disconnect and hypersensitivity are side effects of the symptoms of adhd.  this means people with adhd are highly more likely to either misinterpret someones words or actions if those in question are not completely transparent, its because they tend to overthink and interpenetrate responses with too much thinkin n such. the social disconnect makes a whole lot of it worse, it can just pile on top of already established feelings of inadequacy and isolation. and oversharing as a poor coping mechanism isnt an exclusively adhd related thing, it tends to be shared within similar neruodevelopmental disorders such as autism or even ptsd. i find it incredibly easy to disconnect myself from my own emotions at times and think critically at what i feel and how it affects me. which is a bad thing. if i dont acknowledge my emotions like they are my own for too long, everything falls apart. its not fun. but, that disconnect can make talking about certain more traumatic experiences or instances that had deep personal effects on my life and development as a person much easier to just share. and not always in an appropriate manner, comedic opportunity can be   v  e  r  y   enticing. this also explains why raz might have been able to drop everything about his dad after he apologized. he didn’t really, he probably still suffers just as much afterwards as he did before. but he probably wont realize that for awhile, since logically, the issue has been resolved. long story short, he has not had the time to cope, and to put that off he detaches himself from those feelings. w a c k

of course i have other reasons why i feel like raz could potentially have adhd, or at least be accurately represented in headcanon with adhd, some minor mentions being:

he uses his camp map as a journal to track his in-game progress, list of goals, and notes/snip-its of information. writing down information on some form of notepad or book is a common tool used by kids and even adults with adhd to help them keep track of minuet, individual tasks. its just using a planner, but with a bit more information. 

just from my personal perspective, the lengths raz goes to pursue his dream of being a psychonaut feel more like a special interest/hyper fixation sort of thing. he can jump between having genuine conversations with his fellow campers and just exploring the campground, to investing himself entirely in obtaining his goal, even when it seems almost impossible. thats some serious dedication to one very specific thing, y’know?

this one isnt as solid as the other but: m̶̖̰̯̫̍͝o̵̦͖̟͈̹̤̥̝͐̿̄̀̀̎̓ņ̶̛̭̠̐̊̆̍͝ķ̸̝͈̺̙̰̊e̶͉͚̼̅̔͗̂͐̍̕͝͝y̶̦̖̼͖̪͎̝̖̠̐̑͋̾̔̑́͐͘ ̵̢̲̘͎͉̔̀͒̄͌͊̀͌̀m̴̲̫̮̪̖̍̐͆̕͜͝ͅả̶͙͚͗n̶̗̳̩̙̘̼̦̦͇͝ ̷̡̨̡͔̗͕̘͍̥̑͒̎̐̃g̴͔̔̈̅̐̏́̌̔̈́́o̶̥̱̽̆̂͌̀͗ ̶̝̩͙͕͛́s̴̛͓̥̲̜͓͚̣̠̆̓̌͌p̶̜̹̯̦̫̯̣̎͐̽̉̾ḙ̴͇̬͑̈́̐̈́͘͠ͅȅ̶̡̗̞̩͔̫̪͈͑̓͗d̵̠͇͎̜͔͇͒̈́́̀̅̈́̒͘y̸̡̦̠̻̖̥̿ͅ. yeah, its the most generalizing reason but look, hes moving nonstop the entire game, climbing and running around the entire goddamn place wrecking havoc. a bit of imp can be found in most people with adhd if you look hard enough.

so thanks for reading this far i guess? im oversharing even right now with this, like an i d i o t but yknow what i dont want to read the great gatsby rn, so ive got nothin better to do. who knows, maybe the second game will give us more info to either support/discredit this theory? gotta wait for pn2 i guess

:^)

[andy-the-8th]

Day Of and Day After - Jess (Part 1)

First part of Creatures That Defy Logic - picks up right at the end of the movie

Read on AO3

There are a lot emotions wrapped up in seeing your best friend transform into a merman

"I finally get a friend, and he turns into a fish; this is so typical."

Damn, there were a lot of feelings wrapped up in the last few minutes. Jess had always been better with facts over feelings - science was straightforward, people were complicated. The whirlpool of emotions over such a quick span of time even more complicated, for him as well as everyone else there on the dock.

Exhilaration and awe - it was one thing to have been alongside Cody for the last few weeks, see his changes, speculate and then know he was a merman, in theory - and another thing entirely to see him fully transform and breach with a glittering tail right in broad daylight. Not exactly every day that creatures (people?) straight out of mythology just appear right in front of you. And the excitement that they'd get to hear about whatever he saw when he was away? New sealife, mysteries of the open oceans, may even merpeople culture? One hell of a prospect for anyone, triply so for an aspiring marine biologist.

Relief - more of a twofold sensation as well. Most prominently in the last few minutes, it certainly was a relief to not be dead. Almost drowning, no vital signs, shocked back to life by merman lightning - that'll do a wild number on your feelings about your own mortality. Still, Jess was kind of surprised that that wasn't the main sense of relief he felt right now.

Much more powerfully, he was relieved that Cody was safe. That boy's lack of self-preservation had scared Jess half to death plenty of times over - risking himself at the swim meets, ignoring the advice to stay away from the water, potentially blowing his cover to Sean or the school or worse. Whether or not it was normal to care so much, Jess didn't know or really care - he had spent plenty of nights unable to sleep, worried sick with images of cruel scientists, cold laboratory tanks, faceless men in black suits, dissection tables, taxidermists, freak shows - all kinds of threats, and the only thing Jess could about them was to try to keep Cody's secret.

So all that in mind, there was the relief that Cody had finally gotten away from all of that. Going off with his mermaid mom (mermom?), another mythological creature as far as 99.99% of the world knew, safely out to sea. Maybe that was merpeople's best protection, that short of having physical evidence, most of the world didn't believe in them - guess that's how they manage to avoid discovery. Most people anyway. On that topic though, the next feeling Jess was dealing with -

Anger. This one didn't even really start to register until after Cody had resurfaced to wave goodbye one last time, but thinking about all the threats he'd been afraid of, Jess couldn't avoid the conclusion that his own father should have been at the top of that list. Hadn't he literally just kidnapped his friend to use him as bait? What had been his plan then, if he'd caught Cody's mom? His dad's mermaid obsession had just been a mundane fact of life growing up - a kind of sad, fruitless endeavor. He didn't like to think his dad was crazy, but it didn't mean he really had believed his mermaid stories and theories since he'd grown out of that. It was just like any parent's eccentric hobby - kind of embarrassing sometimes but ultimately innocuous, right? Jess hadn't ever thought of how dangerous it might have been if his father had caught on - and he mentally kicked himself for not making that connection, for not planning for it, for not talking his dad out of it - Jess had basically caught him at the swim meet, and guessed he'd have put it together when Jess was reading through his mermaid theory papers, talking about the thirteenth year theory - but actually capturing Cody and his mom? The dull, cold fear that had caught in Jess's throat when he'd seen his father testing the giant net, when he'd biked at top speed to the Griffin's house, when he'd found the cove empty, Cody already gone -

Well, at least the upside of almost-dying was shocking John Wheatley into the danger of his actions, to his own son if not the merpeople. Jess was pretty sure his father just hadn't been thinking of the consequences past simply catching the mermaid - was never really much of a realist like that.

This didn't make Jess any less angry with him.

On top of all of these feelings, and maybe least expected - loss?

He definitely wasn't expecting that. Sure, the feeling of loss was all around him - however temporary his departure, Cody going away was definitely crossing a line. He wasn't human, and for each person on the dock, that meant on some level, he wasn't really theirs anymore. Sam was losing her boyfriend, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin their child. In a way even his dad was losing his proof to justify his obsessive search over the last 13 years. Sure, Jess was losing his friend, but hadn't their relationship been built around helping Cody through this transformation? What was he losing, if this was just the logical endpoint? He'd known where the transformation was headed, and he didn't expect to feel anything other than scientific satisfaction now it was done.

Jess told himself it was natural to feel like this; humans are social creatures, empathy has been one of our strongest survival tools over the course of our evolution. To solve problems together. To care about each other. Like it or not, we feel how the others around us feel, in one way or another. It was simple science.

His whole time with Cody had been like the best science project ever - an fantastical extension of the assignment that had brought them together. The thrill of getting to know him had been tied to the thrill of discovering his new abilities, helping him test them, spending hours talking through theories and myths. From a purely scientific standpoint, spending time with Cody was fascinating. It was simply to be expected that he'd want to spend as much time with him as he could - as a scientist.

What Jess hadn't expected was Cody's interest in getting to know him in turn. It made sense - Cody was going through strange changes, and Jess was the closest source of finding answers. And more or less, Jess knew that that was the glue of their friendship. He wasn't bothered by that, really.

Of course Cody would listen attentively when he went off on a string of marine biology theories, whether to get ahead in school or to make sense of his transformations. Of course he'd start asking Jess to hang out when they were free - no one else knew what was going on, and he'd been drifting away from his real friends. Cody didn't trust anyone else with the secret - and that was simple self-preservation, to seek out a scientist, rather than a friend. Especially someone who wouldn't blow the secret.

And there had been a kind of special thrill in that for the first few weeks - Jess got to be the only one who knew. Jess got to be the only one who Cody trusted.

A purely scientific thrill.

Jess suddenly shivered as the salty breeze picked up a bit, snapping him out of his own head and the feelings rushing through it. Cody had probably only been gone a few minutes, even if it felt like hours. Mrs. Griffin was still quietly crying, leaning back on Mr. Griffin, both of them still facing the water. Jess didn't really know if he was supposed to say anything to them, or leave them to each other. Should he confront his dad now? Should he try to talk to Sam? oh god he should apologize for the kissing comment but would that just make it worse?

The silence grew more tense for the next several moments, until Sam finally spoke.

"I - I guess I'll just be going home now." Jess could hear that she was pushing to sound confident after crying. She shook her long red hair back behind her shoulders and readjusted her shirt as she stood up straight.

"Oh hon, don't worry, we can drive you back to your place." Mrs. Griffin looked up, finding her voice again, almost sounding relieved to be able to help someone, do something.

"No thanks, Mrs. G, I want to walk. I want to, uh, decompress. Take some time alone to, to y'know, process this. Just feel like I should get some air" she finished hurriedly, with a half-laugh, at the normality of the statement. She nodded awkwardly as she backed away, toward the steps leading up from the floating dock, a pursed-lips-everything's-fine-fake-smile on her face. "Jess, I'll see you at school then?"

Sam had almost never acknowledged him outside of talking through or next to Cody, so Jess gave a somewhat confused nod and tried to smile at her. They only had one day of school left, mostly to pack up books, say goodbye to everyone, and leave for the summer.

"OK wait then" Mrs. Griffin was quickly more serious, purposeful. "I know this would probably go without saying, but you kids cannot tell anyone what happened here." She was talking at Jess and Sam, but had an uncharacteristically sharp glare at Big John as she said this. He didn't miss that, and immediately looked penitent and cowed.

Clearly, Jess wasn't the only one angry at his father for using Cody as live bait.

"Of course!" Jess immediately responded emphatically, even a bit incredulously. He was almost put out that she felt the need to say this, as if they all hadn't - as if he hadn't, longer than anyone - kept Cody's secret safe.

"We'll, um...we'll just tell the school, um..." she was casting about, turning to her husband, looking for a quick explanation.

"Hon we don't need to tell the school anything right now - it's summer vacation, it's not that weird to leave a day early."

"No, we need to be clear, we need a convincing story -

"If anyone really asks we can say he's doing a swim training camp, and he'll be away most of the summer" Mr. Griffin offered, a slight twinge of his usual humor back in his inflection. "It's not really that far from the truth. We'll say it's somewhere in Australia, far enough away from anyone looking to visit or call. And your sister lives out there anyway." He put his hand on his wife's shoulder - Jess thought it looked like he was reassuring and steadying himself as much as he was for her.

Sharon breathed quickly, calming herself. "OK, perfect!" Mrs. Griffin clearly seemed relieved - not calmed, but at least less frantic. Jess was also happy to have something simple and straightforward to tell anyone who asked.

Not like anyone will ask *me* anyway he thought. Jess always had been used to being more or less invisible when it came to social gossip at school, which he honestly preferred. And furthermore, probably for the better, it wasn't like anyone really associated him with Cody, even the teachers. At least not in any meaningful way beyond biology homework. No one would think to ask the nerd that Cody Griffin got unluckily saddled with for a science project what had happened to him.

"OK. OK, good. I'll see you all later then." Sam was hurriedly wiping her face as she turned on her heel, dashing up the steps to the main pier above the floating dock. She was quickly out of sight.

"Jess, you wanna go home, get dried off?" His dad was looking at him now, worry still coating his words. John Wheatley was not a particularly emotional man when it came to anything other than fishing and sea monster stories, but he clearly had not forgotten how close a call his son had just had. "Maybe go to a doctor?"

Jess could hear Mrs. Griffin's sharp intake of breath at what Cody had always humorously called "the D word." Thinking of Cody laughing at that caused the corner of Jess's mouth to twitch up for a second. But once his dad had turned to him, Jess could still see Mrs. Griffin staring daggers into his back.

"No I'll be fine. I feel fine, really." Jess could hear his anger seeping into his own voice and inflection but didn't really care. John Wheatley may have been more thoughtless than he was malicious, but that wasn't enough for Jess to forgive him right now, and he was still too much of a mess of emotions to process any of that with other people.

"I'm going to head home. Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, um, have a good summer?" His inflection put it through as a question - he wasn't really sure what to say but at least that sounded funny enough to deflate the situation as much as possible. It worked - both the Griffins kind of quietly laughed at that.

"You too Jess. We'll see you soon." Jess smiled back at Mrs. Griffin's words, then hesitantly started to walk back up the dock. He was actually surprised that he didn't feel any dizziness or illness after being revived - apparently merman-made hand (fin?) defibrillation worked wonders for the body. He turned and started up the steps roughly, quickening as he reached the top. Big John didn't move to stop him, pausing awkwardly at the foot of the steps, clearly getting the message that Jess didn't want to talk to him right now. Jess reached the main dock and turned across the parking lot of the marina, down the little road toward the family boat yard and sheds, shoulders straight, and not looking back.

[thank-you-pete-archive]

All The Asks. All.

Yeet, I already answered the first five, so I'll start on #66- roll i take in group projects;I'd like to be the leader, but no one listens to my ideas unless they're my friends7- a funny mistake I've made recently;Woken up8- what would i do if my parents said they were having another kid;Well, i have two sets of parents bc my birth parents are divorced. First of all, i wouldn't mind having a younger sibling or a twin, its just that i hate baby's. Toddlers are cool bc they're funny and 10 have personality, but baby's are annoying af and i kinda hate them. Also, I'm the youngest of 6 kids (the dark one is my only biological sibling btw), so it would be cool to not be the youngest and actually taken seriously.9- what was i almost named;Idk, but the dark one kinda wanted to name me something like shiniqua or something :/10- what book have i been avoiding and why;Uhhhh... the Bible... i don't believe in god and i hate church but I'm forced to go to it anyways11- favorite head phone brand;Idk but I absolutely hate the apple ear phones. They suck rly bad12- fav scent-Pine or tree sapI like very masculine scents13- favorite idiom;I forgot what that means :/ sorry I'm an uncultured swine14- how many friends do i have that don't live in the same country as me;Uhhh, the only ones that come off the top of my head are @kidtwink and @sqecs but just bc idk where the rest of my friends live on here. If ur wondering, i live in the southern part of the USA.15-what is always in your wallet that doesn't need to be;I don't have a wallet16- how big is too big for a wallet;Idk what this means, but i don't have a wallet17- what class did you write the best notes in/ what grades did i get;Uhh... probably English bc thats like the only class I REALLY needed to take notes in. I forgot what grade i got, and thats good bc i didn't get good grades last school year :'((18- pet peeve w/ subs;When they have no clue what they're doing19- a red flag i have when in a relationship;I've never dated anyone btw so i have nothing to say here20-what do i look for in someone's dating profile;I. DON'T. HAVE. A. DATING. PROFILE. AND. I'M. GOING. TO SKIP. ALL. DATING. RELATED. STUFF. >>::(((((21- how many ppl have i cut off;On in particular i hate, I'm not even gonna use a fake name for her bc i hate her v much, is dynah. I hate her guts and she can live her damn life in hell. Now, let me set the stage for why i hate her. I'm sitting at the lunch table w/ her and a couple of my other friends. One of my friends didn't bring a lunch, so i was trying to get them to eat my apple, but they didn't want to. About half way through lunch, dynah says to me and my friend(I'm using gender neutral pronouns bc i don't want them to be exposed), "they can starve themselves if they want to, it's not my problem.". I had been trying to get them to eat for all of lunch and this binch says that to me?? Nope, not having it. Also, we had the same seminar together (this is before the lunch incident) and i said the "i want to die" meme like Idubbzzz and she just says, "y'know, if you really wanted to die you could just do it. Just don't do it wrong." :) so I'm glad i don't talk to that ass anymore.22- what do i NOT want on my tombstone;"Nice guys finish last"23- how many couches do i want;Depends on the space and set up of the rest of my house24-what is the strangest website I've ever bookmarked;Dmaorg.info25- typical amount of tabs open on my computer;I don't have a computer:/26- how often do I restart my computer/phone;I don't have a computer and my phone just restarts by itself. I have an IPhone 4S so it makes sense that it just does stuff on it's own.27-do i follow the expiration date on foods;Yes bc i don't want to get food poisoning bc i hate throwing up28- what is the coolest name I would never name a human child;Idk... eagle... thats a stupid name to name a human???29- what fish scares me the most;Uhhhhhh... sword fish??? The ones w/ the light thingy hanging from their heads???30- how do i feel abt snails;They're cute, but i wouldn't like one as a pet

[pansexualseaanimals]

Pop the Bubble

"There's no such thing as a wrong opinion." Ummm yes, yes there fucking is, Margaret. If your "opinion" is that one human or group of humans who it just so happens can be partially differentiated from you (by factors such as languages spoken, the color of their skin, the place of their birth, the place of their ancestors' births, whatever deity/deities they do or do not believe in, physical or mental ability, or what type of built-in palette for attraction exists in their brains and in what way they are attracted to people who match said palette) are less important than you, or are less deserving of rights, freedoms, basic quality of life, happiness, etc. (or that their gaining of rights and freedoms infringes upon your already-existing rights and freedoms but lol oh my gosh let me NOT get on that soap box today), because of those differences, your opinion is bullshit and I will call you out on it.

If your "opinion" is that it is okay/you are justified somehow in mistreating others or treating others differently - whether on a surface level or otherwise - than how you treat people you perceive as "like you", because of these differences and the notions you've picked up/had taught through years of family life, about people with those differences, your opinion is bullshit and I will call you out on it. Especially if you've never even attempted to have a little understanding and move outside of the bubble that was forged around you by whoever you got those notions from in the first place. Especially if your "opinion" is something you picked up from your blood family/friends/religious group/etc. and have never questioned it or subjected it to criticism or objective speculation (because y'know, if you did all that, you'd eventually form your own opinion, well thought out and backed up by your own reasons for why you think that way). Especially if your "opinion" in any way supports the idea of harming said people??? Like. Stop it. Stop it right now. You need a mother very badly. You need a mother to sit you down and tell you exactly what the fuck you're doing wrong with your life, child. Honestly.

I understand that people fear what they don't understand. That is part of our instinctual nature, from waaaaay back in the day when our ancestors first said "Hey, that new fire thing is useful but let's not touch it with our hands again." That primal fear of the unknown was pretty effing useful when we weren't so developed, when we only occupied a small fraction of the planet's surface and didn't even know we were on a ball of space dust spinning around a gigantic plasma furnace at around 600 million miles a year (which is only one of trillions of gigantic furnaces, by the way, that are all in this gorgeous gravity-dance thing called a galaxy, which is only one of countless numbers our minds can’t even fathom of other dances in this huge ballroom blitz we call the universe. ...Yeah, I know, moving on. I just. I just really love space, okay?).

Our dependence on those instincts for survival has diminished since we've spread to every continent, learned things about ourselves and the world around us, and basically became less ignorant as a species. But in all the time since then, something that hasn't changed, is that we're all still human. And the great thing is, another part of our nature, the opposite of that primal fear, is our curiosity. Humans are curious by nature. We like to know things. We like to learn and figure out stuff that we don't understand. Knowing a thing we didn't know before (as long as we don't learn it from some condescending douchebag that thinks they're better than us and treats us like we're dumb or inferior for not knowing x thing), or solving a puzzle or issue that was a challenge to us in some way, is naturally stimulating to us and makes our brains do the chemical-release thing that makes us happy. And that's AWESOME! But that, like any part of our instinctual blueprint or whatever you want to call it, can be overridden. It can be quieted down to a faint whisper. You see it all the time in children who don't want to read. I've never seen that trait as a preconceived notion that reading isn't fun - they pick up the idea from somewhere. One of my personal theories is that they're eventually boredom-scared away from reading by being smothered in all the wrong books. This is especially easy if the child doesn't have enough positive examples in super-early childhood to counteract the way that their school years can tend to make some part of their mind equate the concept of "books" with the concept of "school", or at least certain concepts about school (which in themselves are usually picked up, whether from friends or older siblings or the way school can be projected in an unflattering light in certain mediums). Usually negative concepts. Like reading boring chapters and essays on subjects they care less and less about because they're not being taught in an engaging way. Or all the homework that could be viewed as a stimulating experience but instead is relegated to The Obstacle blocking the child from whatever it is they want to do after their long, exhausting, and mind-numbing day at the office. Yes, I just went there. I went to all of those places. I went there, took pictures, came back, and made 8 x 10 inch prints.

...How did I get on this subject? Oh yeah.

So, our curiosity is an essential part of who we are as a species. It's how and why we've explored so many places (lots of times not in the best of ways, because we as a species are also fallible and have done some really fucked-up things, but let's save those rants for another day), built so many wonders, developed life-saving medicines (and in doing so, lengthened our overall life expectancy), and flown to the stars. It's how and why, as of a few years ago, one of our species' creations has reached interstellar space. I mean, if that doesn't blow you away, I don't know what will. Our curiosity is one of the most awesome things about us! And despite how fallible we may be and how effed-up and bloody our history is, we are also awesome in a lot of different ways, and we have the potential for even more awesomeness, and the potential to reduce - and maybe even completely do away with in the far-off future? - the horrible things we do to each other and to the planet.

So why do we let that fear win over our curiosity when it comes to our interactions with our fellow humans? Well, I think it has to do with the table-fed notions I mentioned earlier. I think that when we get an idea from - or an idea is inspired by - a person, institution, or what have you that we feel some sort of high level of devotion for, we're more inclined to take that opinion/idea/statement as gospel (ahahaaaa... haaaa... I feel bad but also I don't), or at least to not view it so much under the same objective lens we would use to view anything else. So we take it as our own. It becomes part of who we are (Look, I know a lot of people hear phrases like that and run for the hills and/or want to fight over it, but we're all made up of lots of small parts that make a whole. if something is a part of who you are, it's only a part. It doesn't define you as a person. Taking on a label to say "I'm like this" or "I like this particular thing" is not harmful and is actually beneficial from a social point of view, and it's not taking away your individuality unless you choose to let it do so. No one facet of you can define you completely. Humans are creatures with multiple dimensions. If you... Oh my gosh I am not going to start rambling about this. If you don't understand that one grain of sand is not the entire beach then I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU). And if we look at things subjectively instead of objectively, if we don't allow criticisms of our own views and opinions, then we can never grow as people. But more to the current topic at hand, if we are given, or develop, biased views against another group of people and never challenge those views or never seek to understand any world outside our own, any way of living or existing other than how we've been taught, then we will continue to be divided by our own stubbornness and pride. And the sad thing is, it's stubbornness and pride in regards to opinions and views that we weren't born with. Yes, maybe initially our response to seeing a person who is outside what we have typically come to expect as a "person" from our upbringing, could be fear and confusion, because of our primal instincts. But then our natural curiosity should take over from there. After we've taken a step back, we should all be able to go "Oh hey, that's new and different, which is awesome, so let me learn more!" but at some point we're taught not to. At some point the behaviors in our environment slowly seep in and plant the seeds of "We're us and they're them and us is all that matters" or something similar. Okay, maybe I'm starting to get a little heavy-handed with this. You might be saying "Okay, I get it" over and over. I just have one more thing to say:

There are people who claim that we need to do away with whatever differences we can, or at least not acknowledge them. They claim that our differences drive us apart and divide us as a people, as a nation, as a species. I couldn't disagree more. Refusing to acknowledge our differences is not in our best interest, because our differences make us who we are. Differences shouldn't be used as some kind of idiotic leverage to make a person look better or worse in any sort of situation, and neither should they be swept under the rug and treated like they don't exist. Differences should be celebrated. Don't miss out on what could be an amazing friendship with someone just because you've been fed the idea that they're "wrong" or "lesser" somehow because they're bisexual, Pagan, black, deaf, aromantic, autistic, have a different denomination of Christianity than you, just to name a few, whatever it may be. Likewise, don't miss out on really getting to know that friend because you'd rather avoid what makes you different instead of embracing it and letting it be just another thing you love about that person. It's okay to be nervous about something you have no experience with; no sensible person will ever ask you to control initial reactions or feelings you can't really control. That's not what's important anyway. What's important is, after taking that step back - whether literally or figuratively - you then step forward again with a desire to understand. When we remember that we're all human and celebrate our differences, it strengthens our bonds and brings us closer together.

I know I've been really preachy or whatever lately. Y'all don't have to read all of these mountains of text. I just have a lot of feelings about how we could all treat each other so much better and. Just. Humanity is great and I believe in us and our potential and. Blah. Stuff. Either way if any of y'all HAVE been reading these half-ass essays in their entirety, I have a strong urge to bake you something because oh my gosh you deserve it why are you doing this to yourself? XD I love y'all. Catch ya on the flip side~

[empathicstars]

   In Utrea, Betazed, in a long light house with plenty of windows and patioed garden access, lives two women: Ania Moore and her daughter, Aella. Today is one of those rare, blessed days when neither woman has any responsibilities -- and Aella Moore is wrapped up against the sill of a window, which has a large, quilted blanket thrown over it for comfort, reading a book. Her knees are pulled close to her chest, and her dark brown hair is tied back from large black eyes. Immersed as she is in her book, she can still hear when her mother comes -- the footfalls as familiar to her as her mother’s gentle voice. 

   Everything about her mother is pink -- the colors she wears, the art she hangs, and the hues of her emotions. Aella has always absently wondered if her mother can see the color of her own feelings, or if it is as personal and yet foreign as Aella’s own are -- there, but hard to objectively judge. Ania Moore’s pink is always happy, mirthful, wrapped in a jovial, puerile humor. In this moment, Aella can find a playful anxiety, an excitement -- she does not even have to look at her mother's face to know exactly what is about to transpire. The teenager, morose as only teenagers can be, sighs.  

   Ania perches on the sill across from Aella -- legs crossed, eyes wide and wild like stars in a night sky. She pauses for a moment, and Aella wonders how long it will be until she speaks; then, “Aella --”

   “No.” Aella doesn't even look up from her book -- this Ferengi story is just beginning to get interesting, and her mother's dramatics will not sway her attention. Of course, though Aella's face does not flicker, she is sure her mother can tell she is ever so slightly amused at the situation that is beginning to unfold.

   A gasp, as if offended -- but the emotion is light, faux, played up for the moment. “You don't even know what I'm going to say!”

   “Yes, I do. And the answer is no.”

   There's a wait. Aella chances to hope that her mother will sigh, kiss her on her head, and go back to her garden, or her reading, or some ridiculous experiment (that Aella will not get roped into again), and leave her alone with the climax of the heist in her story. But, alas... “Aella, will you comm Surrie and --”

   “Mom,” with a touch of annoyance, “no. I'm not gonna be your mediator anymore.”

   “M-mediator!” True surprise, but as always, her light pink humor, dancing and happy. “What are you talking about! We're not fighting.”

   Aella’s voice hardens in her humor, head turning, eyes still not leaving her page. “You're always fighting.”

   Another of her mother’s dramatic gasps. "What!! How dare!! I thought you and I were friends!!" 

   Aella cannot help but allow a flicker of a smile come on to her face at that -- she looks up from her book. “Mom.”  

  “Me? Fighting? I am a Real, True, Professional adult, thank you very much!” 

   “Then call Mentor Suran yourself and ask him to the gala, like a real, true, professional adult would.” Her attention turns back to her book, much to her mother's obvious dismay. 

   A mirthful hand falls against Ania's head, and she sags backwards in pretend pain. “I clothed you! I fed you! And this is the thanks I get!”

   Aella rolls her eyes. “Mom, he's your friend.”

   “Y-yeah,” straightening, “but I don't speak Vulcan.”

   So typical, Aella cannot help but think. There is a gala for some of the top teachers and scientific minds in the Betazed community -- Ania would be honored, briefly. Ania had a spare ticket, but Aella had to go for school and already had her own, so, of course, the professional biochemist had been staring at the holoticket for days, as if it were a ghost. This is the fifth time Aella's been asked to call her mother's best friend. 

   “You're conveniently using a falsified, imagined language barrier to manipulate me into doing your dirty work.”

   Her mom momentarily drops the dramatics, but her impish nature never falls. It cannot -- it is sewn in her. “Where have you been learning words like that?”

   Still not looking up, Aella taps on the spine of her book. The gold title shimmers in the sun, streaming in through the open window.  

   Her mother nods, all confidence and assuredness. “Yep. That's it. No more reading.”

   This comment calls Aella's attention to her mother again -- eyebrows raise, and telepathically, she conveys her joke. Fantastic -- the woman who is being honored for being a great teacher is telling her daughter not to read. I'm calling your gala.

   You better not! Call Surrie instead! 

   These words can be exchanged quickly, in the moment of humor -- Ania begins laughing, raucously, at the glance and the thought. Aella's lips quirk, but she hides it behind her book, as well as the blush creeping onto her face.  

   When the laughter fades, Aella moves back to speech. “Mom, he's your best friend.”

   “Yeah, but him coming all the way to Betazed for a gala is illogical.”

   “He's your best friend.” This is going nowhere. If Aella does not take action, her mother will be asking her, the night before the gala, to call Mentor. She moves to grab her PADD from the floor -- her mother's dark eyes are on her, and immediately Aella focuses on the thought of homework, hoping the temporary deception will work. 

   “What are you doing, Aella?”

   “Homework.”

   “Wow. Homework. While I'm on my knees, begging for a favor. I wonder what it would be like to have a daughter that loves me.” 

   “I wonder what it would be like to have an adult for a mother.”

   “Ow!” Ania does not seem to recognize what Aella is doing yet -- a hand pushed against her heart in her normal histrionics. “Get the dermal regenerator! Ania Moore is suffering third degree burns!”

   There's a soft noise coming from Aella's PADD -- a distant tone. Ania's comical moment fades from her face for a moment, and dark eyes center on her -- Aella can hear her attempting to work it out. After all, it is hard to fool a telepath.

   “Aelliana Moore, what homework are you doing?” 

   “The only one that will give me peace of mind.” 

   “You better not be --” 

   “Aelliana?” A soft voice from her PADD -- decidedly Vulcan, formal. Ania's eyes widen and her mouth falls open, a smile growing in her shock. 

   “Tonk'peh, Mentor,” Aella greets, as her mother telepathically screeches. It is all Aella can do to keep her face even and empty. “My mother has a question for you.”

   “Is that so.” His voice is flat, devoid of question, and Aella recognizes what he's thinking, even being so far away -- Ah, I see. Another question she attempted to relay to me through you.

   “Yes.”

  Aelliana Moore, I will take all of your books if you don't hang up right now.

   “She's very excited to tell you all about it.”

   Over my dead body, Mom. 

   Don’t tempt me, Aelliana.

   “Here she is now!” 

   Ania glares, grabs the thrust PADD from her daughter. She hesitates, glowering down at the piece of plastic as if it, too, has betrayed her. “Hi, Surrie.”

   “Ania. Should I be concerned?" 

  “For Aella?” she muttered, gaze dark on Aella, who is only hardly holding herself together behind her book. “I would be.”

   “Ania." 

   “Well, uh -- you see -- there's, uh...”

   “Is there a favor you are attempting to ask of me?” 

   “Yeah. Well, yes. Well, I mean... I don’t... I don’t, uh, know -- you see...” 

   Aella has folded her book, now, staring with humored eyes, biting her lips to keep herself serious-looking. Ania shakes her head at her with a simper and stands, as if asking this question needs distance from Aella. 

   “Ania?”

   “There -- there's, well, there's this gala... that's going to be... in a month, or so. On Betazed. It's like, a science thing -- and you're a science guy... and I have an extra ticket, and I'm gonna be like, talked about, briefly...”

   “I would be honored to attend, Ania. Why did you think my response would be different?”

   “Uh -- I don't know. It's just -- I mean, such a big flight, and..." 

   “I have made the travel for less." 

   “Well, yeah, but..." She's flustered, obviously, and faltering under the audience of her daughter -- so Ania laughs lightly, pushes a hand against her face as if to still her. “Listen, Surrie, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to murder my daughter right now.” 

   “I understand.” The same flat voice from before -- Aella puts a hand against her face to hide her whimsy. “May we discuss details at 2200 your time?”

   “I mean, I’m sure I'll still be burying her body, but I guess I can pull away for a few minutes.”

   In a voice that is decidedly exasperated, Suran replies, “... It is always a pleasure, Ania.”

   “Yeah, keep up that attitude. Y'know, one grave can easily become two. I'll already have the shovel out and all.”

   “Goodbye, Ania.” 

   “Love ya.”

   The PADD beeps twice as the connection is severed -- Ania plops back down across from Aella, eyes made of fire. Their first attack is on the closed book across from Aella. “Oh, now you look up.”

   “That was better than my book."

   “I bet!” A clear chastising -- though only mischief truly lives in her voice. Ania snatches the book from between them, as if making a direct assault. “Demon child! I hate you. What is wrong with you?”

   “You know, Mom, I just witnessed something truly amazing and unexpected.” As seriously as if she were delivering a project to her classmates. “Somehow... somehow... you managed to ask Mentor Suran to appear at your gala without knowing any Vulcan.” A hand pressed against her chest -- an obvious imitation or trait she’d learned from her mother. “I believe I've witnessed a miracle here, today. I'm going to write a book about it.”

   Ania shoots a thought to her -- I'll buy you a coffin with the proceeds of your book. It is not what she says, however. 

   “I'm going to kill you. You know that, right?”

   “You already took away my books, so you might as well.”

   “Fine.” She offers the book back, as slowly as if she is extending an olive branch. Gently, Aella takes it from her mother, holds it against her chest. Both of their eyes glow in the same spirit of comic, in the same antic. “You can read. But in exchange for torturing me, you're also required to go out later and try to make some friends.”

   “Actually,” Aella's words come, fast and honest in her normal melancholic humor, “just kill me.”

   Ania stands, laughs -- stares out the warm window at the green, beautiful world beyond the glass. “You know, Aelliana, you're the only child I know who can't relate to anyone on a planet full of empaths and telepaths.” It's said lightly, but Aella can sense the genuine concern there -- the fear that perhaps Aella's alienation is the result of some sort of poor parenting. It is so dark, momentarily, that Aella can hardly distinguish the pink. 

   “I have a gift,” Aella deadpans, but she pushes against her mother's mind, a gentle, I'm fine, Mom. I'm happy. I'd rather learn languages. 

   You're gonna need someone to talk to in all those languages you're learning, my dearest. 

   Aella sends a thought -- a mixture of, I know, Mom, and I'll try. At least momentarily, this appears to satisfy Ania -- who beams at the window and then turns away from it. 

   “Well, Aella -- it's a beautiful day, and you need sunlight.”

   “I'm sitting next to the window.”

   “Not the same. Don't be one of those children.” Ania's moving to the side door -- the one that leads into her beautiful, sprawling garden, of and in which lives Aella's earliest childhood memories. However, at the words, “Come garden with me!”, Aella only sends a groan, through thought -- the noise too undignified to crawl from her throat. 

   “You're not gonna make me hold a tricorder while you pour some disgusting liquid on a poor, defenseless plant again, are you, Mom?”

   A gasp of horror -- Ania pauses and pulls at the strap of the tricorder on her desk. “What! No! Of course not!” she clearly falsifies, throwing the band over her left shoulder and holding out her right arm for her daughter. Aella allows the sound of a sigh as she puts her book down, and moves from her comfortable haven deliberately slowly to her mother's outstretched arm, looping her own around her mother's waist. Despite the antics -- despite what she says -- despite it all, there is nowhere Aella feels safer, more secure, or happier than here, beneath her mother’s arm, though the thoughts she sends may have given the opposite impression if her mother were not so in tune with her feelings.

   Oh, I get it. You're taking me out to your garden now to kill me in secret, aren't you? 

   Yep, Ania responds, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead as she leads into the blinding sunlight. That's exactly it.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

I'll go again and ask for all questions under G and H for any character(s) of your choice! :P

Ah, thank you buddy~

G1: Is your OC close to their family?Ahroah is super close with her current family. Like, she’s never had much bond with her nephew, Lord Anders, or his “brood” but she is very close with her husband and kids and grandkids. And she was relatively close with her brother, Ormond. Ahroah was never friends with her brother, but they did have each other’s backs and that’s what’s important, right?She definitely has a strong bond with her oldest daughter-in-law and her middle grandson. Ahroah is the closest to them for sure, y'know, excluding her husband.

G2: Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?Vallina’s primary family is her four kids (Harden, Marcos, Nyssa, & Cedric) and her daughter-in-law (Eldis). Vallina also her brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nephew but they aren’t nearly as important to her. She cares about them, of course, but this is comparing her late-husband’s brother & humans she squeezed out of her nethers.

G3: Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example of why not?Oraya doesn’t think her family is supportive BC she’s a fucking brat. They are actually supportive of her. All her (too many) siblings and her parents and her grandmother love her, they support her in what she’s good at, and encourage her to do better at things she’s bad at. But she’s a brat going through her “bitch phase” so she doesn’t want support she wants to be enabled.Like, “no Oraya you can’t go out on your own yet, you’re only 14.” Or “no Oraya, you can’t marry Trystane Martell, he’s literally betrothed to someone else.”She also tends to project and assume. So she’ll think her family is comparing her to her sisters or that they’re “holding her back” and “keeping her down” when really all they want is for her to chill out a little.

G4: What kind of childhood did your OC have?Shiera’s childhood was solitary. She grew up surrounded by her older sisters, and she had her cousins, but as the youngest child, girl child more specifically, of Lord Stefan Baratheon’s little brother she didn’t get as much attention as her sisters or Stannis or Renly. And no one could have really held a candle to how much attention Robert was given.Shiera certainly wasn’t neglected, she preferred being solitary. It was easier to get a lot of reading or “exploring” done when everyone was fawning over your sister’s wedding or baby!Renly. And by “exploring” I mean climbing over rocks and trees and pretending they were a new kingdom in Essos or somewhere that you single-handedly discovered.Shiera was definitely seen as the “strange” child, given that she was more likely to lock herself away with a book thicker than she had any business with than play with dolls or do anything typically regarded as “girly.” Even as she grew into her teens she was more likely to monologue about the pitfalls of the current dynasty or try to get Stannis to play chess with her than gossip or want to participate in anything that other noble ladies were getting excited about.

G5: Did they go through any typical phases growing up?Daenehra went through a phase where she wanted to be blonde. I mean, lowkey she’s still sort of going through it, but now she at least owns the fact she inherited her mom’s red hair because she knows she can’t really change it. As a kid though she literally would have sold her brother for a chance at having light blonde hair so she could look how she was “supposed to.”

G6: Do they have any favorite childhood memories?Marian’s favorite childhood memory is from when she was 9. She was in her grandmother’s rooms, having her hair braided by one of Lady Olenna’s maids. Marian wasn’t being reminded by anyone that she was illegitimate, her mother wasn’t apologizing for her, she was just getting to spend time with the only Tyrell who truly liked having her around. As time has passed she doesn’t remember what they were talking about, but being able to hold onto the moment in her memory is what’s more important that any details.This remains her most vivid memory from when she still lived in High Garden.

G7: Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?👏Elisheva's👏whole👏childhood👏is👏memories👏she👏wants👏to👏forget👏There are two major moments that she wishes she could forget though: At age 11 she bit out the tongue of one of the Dornish Lords (who looks not unlike an evil raisin) for various He Is The Worst™ reasons. And as a teenager she had to carry her oldest brother from a mercenary job in Volantis to a boat to take them back to Dorne, only for her to watch him die of Grey Plague.These two moments have stayed with her through her whole life.

H1: What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?Danielle Araval is the biggest lesbian in all of the known world. To say this is a source of stress would be an understatement. As the oldest child, and only girl, she was expected to get married…but she shut down every potential betrothal and arrangement her family tried to set her up with. Eventually her dad decided to stop because it was pretty obvious he was never going to get her to willingly marry anyone. That may be one stressor down, but Danielle does have to take great pains to keep her secret from being spread all over the Seven Kingdoms. She would definitely enjoy if she could openly be in a relationship though, like that would just be great.And as far as if she always knew, there was definitely an idea there. As a child she knew she didn’t like any “stupid, smelly boys” and much preferred the company of other girls, she never really began to notice any feelings until she was around 13-14.

H2: Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever way you want to cover?Warreck is thoughtful and well-meaning but kind of dim. He does whatever he can to make his wife comfortable and happy, knowing that she had a rough childhood and continues to have a complicated relationship with her older brother. He just wants to make her happy and make sure she’s well taken care of. All the damage is already done, and he has no idea how to fix any of it, but he takes care to make sure he doesn’t make anything worse and to not make Alssa uncomfortable or have to relive any bad memories. Overall, he makes sure that everything they do together is on her terms and does it best to shield her from anything bad happening.

H3: Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right?It’s a “stupid, romantic idea” that isn’t for the stern and pragmatic…so Caster will 100% deny that he thinks there’s one ideal partner for everyone. He definitely believes that, if you’re meant to have someone at all, one perfect person exists for you. Caster isn’t going to tell you that, even if you need to hear it, he’s just going to quietly nod in approval if he sees you with someone who makes you as happy as you possibly can be.

H4: Does your OC believe in love at first sight?Vaerynea barely believes in love at all.She loved her children, she loves her grand children & great-grandchildren, but these are obviously different from romantic love. That, that kind of love may exist but it’s not for women like her.Love belongs to highborn ladies and the delicate, virginal maidens of stories. Love doesn’t belong to former pleasure slaves “saved from that awful work” by someone who just doesn’t want to share you.Love may exist for some, but if they think they love someone at first sight they’re diluting themselves.

H5: Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)?Lerela believes in marriage, sure. Her parents are married and very much in love, both of her older brothers are married and Syran was lucky enough to fall in love with his betrothed so that it was more than just a political match between Dorne and the Stormlands. However, marriage isn’t really for her. Lerela adores Lucan, and she could never picture herself with anyone else. She had a child with him. But if someone were to suggest they marry she’d probably start laughing. Simply being in a deeply loving and committed relationship is all she wants or needs.

H6: What do they look for in partners (emotionally, mentally, physically, etc.)?Olyvia looks for, if she had the opportunity to look anyway, someone who’s kind and romantic and treats her like a princess. She’s only 14 so she has the desires of someone who’s only 14: an idealized fairy tale romance. She wants a “knight in shining armor” who is an overall dreamy, teen heartthrob-y “non-threatening boy.”

H7: What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?Doqnazla’s ideal date involved the fucking lap of luxury. Seriously, take that girl to a spa. Facials, fancy baths, massages, pedicures, she wants the whole package.

H8: What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners?You will instantly dry up Dasina’s vagina if you want her to call you daddy, if you don’t respect women, & if you can’t get behind a good joust.

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Gift of the Magi (2/12)

Summary: Wash has already gone through too much, been broken too often. So when they get captured by Hargrove together, Tucker figures he has one job: until the cavalry shows up, keep Wash alive and (relatively) sane. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Wash is just as determined to protect him.

Parings: None. Warnings: Canon-typical language, aftermath of canonical character death, psychological torture, hallucinations, hallucinated child harm, fake-out character death.

Notes: Also available on AO3!

Hargrove makes the deal with Tucker.

And then he fucking makes him wait.

It's mind-games, that's what it is. Tucker vaguely remembers Wash lecturing him about interrogation techniques in the canyon, and okay, maybe Tucker should have listened a little better. He mostly just remembers staring at the canyon walls and thinking that the only torturer in his life was Agent Washington, and when Wash demanded, "What did I just say, Private?" he responded with his name, rank, and serial number, which got him another fifty squats.

Good times.

But there had been something about making people wait to psychologically undermine blah blah but a good soldier blah blah blah. Whatever. It's basically the same thing as a girl playing hard-to-get, and Tucker doesn't need any RTI training to deal with that, because when it comes to girls refusing to call or text, he is a pro.

Except.

Except this cell is really small, and there's no one else, and it's—there's this particular smell to the air on the Staff of Charon, and he can't stop thinking about that fucking trophy room and the moment when Church—

Tucker's kind of grateful when they finally come for him.

And it's not like it's going to be that bad, right? Tucker has no AI trauma. He's not going to get flashbacks. He just has to wait out whatever stupid tests Hargrove wants to put him through, and in like three days Carolina is going to be here with the rest of the cavalry, and they can punch Hargrove in the face and go home. Straight-up Freelancer justice.

When he gets to the lab, it isn't too creepy. There's a medical bed with restraints on it, and hung over it is a nest of a million wires with what looks like a big jagged piece of glowing green glass at the center.

So, alien tech. Fine. Tucker's been around the block with that kind of thing more than once. It can't be worse than that only-a-true-warrior bullshit at the jungle temple, where he had to fight a million Felixes. Tucker still gets nightmares about that sometimes. Whatever Hargrove has cooked up with his VR, it can't be that bad.

And the scientist is even kind of hot. In, you know, a really pale, sucked-on-a-lemon sort of way.

"Hey, baby," he says. "Do you—"

"Strap the subject down," she drones, not even looking at him.

"Fine, fine," Tucker mutters. He doesn't put up a fight as they hustle him onto the bed and strap him down. Because it's not a big deal. It's going to be okay.

Three days. Tops. That's all this is going to take.

He twitches when they pry open his neural implants and plug something in. It doesn't hurt, but there's this weird cold feeling, like a gust of air inside his skull, and then there's a buzzing sensation running down his spine—

—it’s cold and dark dark cold—

"—shut the fuck up, Caboose, I told you we could keep him!"

Tucker's jaw snaps shut as soon as he says the words. For a second he's dizzy enough to puke, and he's not sure where he is or why he's yelling at Caboose.

Then he blinks, and everything's fine. He's on Sidewinder, the Meta is dead, Church has disappeared into the memory unit like a fucking asshole, and Tucker's trying to pick up the pieces.

Caboose shifts awkwardly. "Yeah, but, I mean, he needs new armor."

"Why do we have to give him new armor? He fucked us over just fine with what he's got."

"Uhhh, because he needs to be blue if he's going to be on Blue Team. Duh."

Tucker looks beyond Caboose, where Doc is poking at Agent Washington, who's finally managed to sit up. He's got his helmet off, and he doesn't look like a badass Freelancer anymore. He's got a baby face under the armor, and his pale cheeks are turning red and splotchy with the cold, and he's staring at the chaos with a kind of dazed, dopey expression.

It's pretty pathetic. Especially since Doc is the only one paying any attention to him. The Reds are squabbling with each other, and Tucker's over here with Caboose, and—

"Stupid Tucker," Caboose mutters.

Yeah, Tucker is fucking stupid because he's letting the murderer join Blue Team. But he marches over to Agent Washington, because this is his mess now, and he never wanted to feel like he understood Church this much.

Doc is now shining a light into one of Agent Washington's eyes. "Okay, look straight ahead and tell me what letters you can see."

". . . you're giving me an eye exam?" Washington's voice is hoarse and incredulous, but he's not trying to fight Doc.

"Good vision is very important for a soldier!"

"U-N-S-C," Washington recites flatly, staring at the insignia on Doc's armor.

"Well, I don't think you need your prescription changed, but you should make sure to have an eye exam every six—"

"Seriously?" says Tucker. "Shut up."

Washington looks up at Tucker and he kind of—straightens his spine and falls in on himself at the same time. "Private Tucker, right?"

"Yeahhhh, or you could call me the Mighty Chosen One. Y'know, 'cause an entire alien race chose me to be their savior."

"Right," Washington sighs, and then he just . . . waits.

There's an ugly feeling worming through Tucker's gut. He keeps remembering Donut rambling about lightish red and Church grumbling about your freakish hellspawn, and now they're both gone, and the fucker who killed them is just sitting there, not meeting Tucker's eyes, like—like—

"Dude, what the fuck?" he says, and he grabs Washington by the collar and hauls him to his feet. "What is wrong with you?"

Washington doesn't say anything. His head bobbles a little, but he's still not meeting Tucker's eyes, and the look on his face is just—

Tucker remembers a lot more about giving birth to Junior than anyone thinks, and he remembers when it hurt so much that he just didn't care anymore, it didn't matter if he died because it felt like everything that made him Tucker was all used up. That's what Agent Washington looks like right now, and fuck, Tucker did not want to feel this sorry for him.

"The UNSC is going to put you back in prison," he says. "Like, as soon as they see you."

"Yeah," says Washington, still with that weirdly calm exhaustion.

Tucker is going to regret this. He is going to regret this so fucking much.

"Okay, Doc? I need you to help me strip Church."

"What?" says Washington, his voice cracking.

It only takes them a few minutes to get Washington's armor swapped with Church's. Everything about the plan is freaky and weird, because Tucker knew that Church was an AI with a robot body, but it's still kinda nauseating the way he clanks and flops over when they roll him out of his armor.

"I don't get why you're doing this," says Washington, as he snaps his new helmet into place.

"What, did they not have disguises in Project Freelancer?" asks Tucker.

As he says the words, he feels like something’s wrong. For a second he can’t figure it out, and then he realizes with an awful lurch to his stomach: he doesn’t have his sword anymore.

"Huh," says Washington. "Well, tell your friends I said thanks."

"Who, Caboose?" says Tucker, hardly paying attention. The sword’s not in his hand, not hanging from his hip, not lying on the ground near them. He can’t have dropped it. He never drops his sword. It’s his fucking trademark.

"No," says Washington, and there's this weird, smug note in his voice that sends a chill down Tucker’s spine. "I mean Church. And Donut."

"What—"

And that's all Tucker manages to say before Wash shoots him.

It doesn't hurt at first. He falls over, and he can't breathe, but there isn't any pain. Just this clawing, breathless feeling.

There's a screech, and then another gunshot—Doc—and then Washington says, "Thank you for the armor, Private Tucker," and steps over him.

All Tucker can think is, I fucked up.

He should never have listened to Caboose. He should have known this would happen. But he still feels this gaping sense of betrayal, like Washington looking so pathetic was some kind of promise.

Fuck that asshole. Tucker isn't dying now, he's not. But his stomach hurts, oh shit, it hurts worse than Junior, and he can't seem to catch his breath—

Tucker gurgles, and manages to haul himself up on his elbows.

That's how he sees Agent Washington walk right up to Caboose and shoot him right in the fucking face.

"No," Tucker wheezes, and he doesn't know how he gets to his feet, but it doesn't matter because Caboose has fallen over is already dead isn't moving is already dead—

"Dirtbag!" Sarge roars, charging with his shotgun. But it’s like Washington was never injured. He sidesteps Sarge, pulls the shotgun out of his hands and pumps it into his stomach.

Simmons shrieks. Washington flings a knife into his leg, follows it up with another, and where the fuck did he get all those knives?

Tucker tries to stagger forward and help, but two steps and there’s darkness swimming at the edges of his vision. He can barely stay on his feet.

More screams, more gunfire, and then—nothing. There’s no sound but Tucker's heart pounding in his ears, his own harsh breaths. He's the last man standing.

Then he isn’t standing anymore, because the adrenaline is seeping out of him, and he falls to his knees.

Everywhere he looks, there’s blood in the snow.

He was the last one left alive in Sandtrap too, but back then he could hope that the others were coming for him.

"What's the matter, Private Tucker?" Wash is right there by his side again—when did he move—wait, when did Tucker start calling him Wash?

Uh, like two days after he joined Blue Team? says a voice that sounds like Church, but that's not possible because Church is dead. Church is always dead.

No, duh! The point is, this isn’t real!

Tucker feels sleepy. Blood-loss, maybe. His mind is slowing down; his thoughts come in chunks, bobbing up and drifting against each other.

"You're not . . . Wash," he says.

There’s a smirk in the way Wash tilts his head. "No, I'm Private Leonard Church. And I'm going to tell the UNSC how you all died fighting the Meta."

"You're not real," Tucker whispers, but then Wash lunges with the knife, slicing into his throat, and it hurts he's choking on his own blood he can't breathe oh fuck oh fuck—

Tucker! Tucker, it's okay!

—it hurts—

—and Tucker wakes up choking and thrashing against the restraints.

For a few seconds it's still real, he still feels the raw, gaping edges cut into his throat, the blood pouring out. But then he realizes that he's still breathing. He's still alive, his face is awkwardly smushed into the padding of the medical bed, and the only liquid pooled around him is his own spit, because eww, apparently he drools when he's hooked into a VR.

It wasn't real.

The relief hits Tucker in stages. First: he's alive. Second: Caboose is alive, he's back at base with Carolina by now. Third: the Reds are alive too. Fourth: Doc is . . . who cares, but Wash didn't shoot him in the gut either.

Wash didn't shoot anyone. When they packed him into Church's armor on Sidewinder, he said, "I don't get why you're doing this," in that tired, defeated voice, but then Caboose started shouting about best friends forever, and then the UNSC turned up and somehow it was all okay.

Tucker realizes he's shaking. The simulation was fake, but the adrenaline it sent pumping through his body is totally real.

The memory of his throat splitting open under Wash's knife feels pretty real as well.

It's okay, though. Tucker can do this. It's only for a few days.

He can do this.

The training floor on the Staff of Charon isn't that different from the one on the Mother of Invention. It's not quite as big. Probably not capable of as many different simulations. But the way Wash’s footsteps echo in the wide, round room—the looming windows of the observation deck—the cold knowledge that if he doesn't perform well enough, the consequences will be unthinkable—

Everything that matters is the same.

"I hope you're not going to waste my time again, Agent Washington," Hargrove says through the loudspeakers. "I have limited patience."

"Yeah, I'd hate to disappoint you," says Wash, adjusting his grip on his rifle.

Yesterday was a failure. He managed to start the simulation, but then he panicked. Lost control. It wasn't good. But he practiced all night with the safety settings on, and now he's going to do this because he has to do this. Tucker doesn't get to live unless Wash goes out on missions and Wash isn't allowed on missions until he proves that he can used the Mark IV Targeting-Lock Interface.

He hopes that Tucker's doing okay. So far he’s only been shown brief clips of surveillance footage. He's not allowed to meet him again until after his first mission.

"FILSS, start the testing sequence," says Hargrove.

"Initiating testing sequence now," says FILSS. Her voice is dull, obedient; Wash knows she helped the others when they were aboard the Staff of Charon, but he doesn't think she’ll do anything for him and Tucker now.

Holographic blue hexagons appear around him in a ring and start rotating. Wash lets out a slow breath, tries to release the tension from his shoulders. He lets his eyes unfocus, because that's the best way to notice—

There. At the edge of the his vision, one hexagon has turned from blue to gold.

The next instant, it's ringed in two red circles. They look like part of his HUD, but Wash is nauseatingly aware that they're not passing through his optic nerves, they're being funneled straight to his occipital lobe by the Mark IV.

Target acquired. The voice is precise, mechanical. A lot like Freckles. Eliminate?

"Confirm," says Wash, but his arms are already lifting the rifle, pulling the trigger.

It feels like a reflex, but Wash knows it's not. He knows that it's the Mark IV moving his arms and sending the bullets straight through the center of the target. His heart jumps, and he can't help flinching back, trying to jerk his arms free even though thing is inside him.

To the left, another hexagon turns gold. Target acquired.  

Wash whirls to face it. The movement is sloppy, overshooting, and he knows that he's about to fail again. But he can't fail, he can't.  "Confirm," he manages to gasp, and his gun spits bullets again, and—

simulation_11010 live rounds on the training room floor and Maine is ripped almost in half, blood spreading around him in a pool, Wyoming alive but his spine snapped, the grenade paints York across the wall and I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry to tell you I'm sorry

—there are more hexagons turning gold around him, target-target-target acquired, and Wash lets go. He whispers, “Safety off,” and he lets the Mark IV grip his brainstem and spin him around, gun firing. There are multiple holographic rings now, rotating at different angles, rolling around the training room floor; Wash whirls, and ducks, and somersaults, and shoots every target as it appears, his mind a white fog of panic. There’s no target acquired and no confirmed; there’s just a gun and the computer firing it. Wash is only a conduit.

Slowly, he realizes that it's over. That FILSS has already said, "Sequence complete," and the targets have disappeared.

His heart is pounding and his breath is rasping in his throat. But he did it. He isn't going to watch Tucker die.

"Excellent work," Hargrove says from above him. "Welcome to the team, Agent Washington."