#i still have so many questions about the nobodies as like. a species. or whatever they are

[azidoazide-art]

i thought it would be fun to try designing a monster form for Roxas a la Sora's anti-form, and you know what? it was

[thelittlestaxolotl]

(Sorry if this is a long ask)

For Mr MT , King , your Majesty or whatever you want me to call you.

1-Specifically what kind of things do you do other than well , research , write down and not sleep?

2- Have you ever heard Purple sing (Probably can’t hear him but worth a shot)

For Purple

3- You look fine but are you fine , Emotionally?

4-Has King ever harmed you ? Because I swear if he has I’ll-

For Alan (A lot more questions for him cuz not many people ask Alan)

5- Have you ever seen any other Hollowhead creatures? (I don’t know what Second’s species is sorry)

6- Do you try to be every creatures friend if you can? You seem like a kind-hearted stick..

7- What do you usually enjoy to do? Like drawing? (Can second draw as well or-)

[Answers don’t have to be long sentences , or like a paragraph they can be short I don’t mind! Sorry If I overwhelmed (might be an understatement) you with questions for the Characters . I love your AU so much brings me happiness every time I see it <3]

-Anon that thinks too much <3

You have no idea how much I love long asks like this

1. "Town management? Politics, trade relations, taxes, negotiations... I never really wanted to be a king. But nobody asked me."

2. "One single time. Not gonna tell him, though."

3. "Uuhhh... Next question please?"

4. "I mean, no, I think no. Maybe swayed at me flying a few times, but not intentionally. Probably."

5. "Yes."

6. "Well, not every creature I see becomes my friend. I know a few other creatures living in the forest pretty closely, but they're still wary of me. Can't blame them."

7. "Drawing is my hobby! Second's too, I suppose."

"Though his way of drawing is... unusual."

Don't worry about long asks, I really enjoy answering them! Glad you liked my silly guys hehe

[thesnivy123]

Hello! It’s me again lol

I’m really sorry for asking you so many questions, but I’m just really curious on what your version of the world of sky is like! Specifically, I would like to know what the culture of it is like! Like, how many things are new, and how much is pretty much just like the base game! For example: are skykids more tame about collecting clothes and cosmetics? Or are they just as feral over them as skykids are in the game? How do they get candles? How do events and spirits work? How prominent is music? (Side note, if it’s as prominent in this version of sky as it is in the actual game, I can only imagine red’s first reaction to it lolllll)

If it’s ok with you I’d like to know whatever world building you’re comfortable with sharing about it :D

Have a nice day! And I wish you the best of luck with the shattering traveling spirit if you’re still actively playing sky! :D

Sorry for the late response i got like super distracted when you sent this and just forgot-

I am SO glad you asked. generally I tend to ignore game mechanics that don't translate too well into the lore, or at least adapt them into something more workable- But since you asked about specific things, ill tell ya about those.

i put a lot of thought into how everything about skykids would effect the sort of culture theyve developed- one huge thing being that they're kids. They don't really have a civilization, so to speak, not in the way a more... Normal species might. Candles are usually just recycled from the wax of older candles scavenged from ruins, made from scratch by a handful of skykids who actually took interest in candlemaking, or... Well, made by spirits. Though a lot of spirits did eventually pass on back into the cycle once the stranglehold the darkness had on rebirth loosened, the ones that stayed gradually got more tangible as they "recovered", able to interact with the world more and more. Plenty of them are back to doing their own things, even if more... Ghostly, so skykids don't have to worry about keeping up with how many of those things they use, hah. (Sidenote: They aren't used as currency in my worldbuilding- Skykids use the barter system on the off chance they do want "payment" for something.)

As for clothes, they really CAN'T go ham on outfit collecting due to technical limitations- Fabric making is HARD, these are children, there's only so much they can do. They DO make new clothes, though, mostly via scavenged fabrics and scraps of older clothes. Skykid fashion is very colourful, very patchy, and very long lasting. Their capes are a different story- Because a cape that came with a skykid on creation is kind of special- Really, they don't wear down, those things are kinda magic- They can be passed down literally forever if the original owner gets a new one. Hell, there's actually a few capes floating around the hand-me-down trade of serious historical significance, and nobody would know by now.

Music is actually a big thing to them on account of it's something the ancestors did that wasn't "ABSOLUTELY BOOOORIIIING". And by "big thing", I mean "a lot of the hard work has been done for them so they don't have to figure out how to do it on their own". They use the same notation system and most of the same instruments as the Ancestors! Otherwise there's not much to say, most skykids have at least handled some sort of instrument before, it's pretty normal to them.

Events are... A weird thing. Most of them HAPPENED, I'm sure, just... To some particular group of Skykids rather than everyone. Season of Abyss? yeah some kid is out there bragging about "I MET A SUPERMEGATURBO-KRILL AND IT ATE ME AND THEN A MANTA GOT ME OUT AND I SURVIVED" or something. Little Prince? I've already well established that sometimes people end up in the world from other worlds, I'm sure it happened. Aurora? That. That one's a funny one. The concert did happen. It was a huge thing. But it was actually also an experiment on "what happens if you get a frankly absurd number of skykids all in one place", and apparently the answer is "the sheer density of light energy in the area temporarily allows Megabird to enter the physical realm and also Things Get Weird".

I already touched on spirits earlier, but to recap- when Eden exploded, the sheer amount of darkness energy severed ties to the rebirth cycle (which reincarnates lesser creatures and entirely revives sapient ones). Wildlife recovered, thankfully, after a few generations, but... The Ancestors never did. Most of the population was in the immediate blast radius (Eden, the Wasteland, and parts ofbthe Valley) and were dead from either the explosion itself or the effects of darkness soon after, the Forest and parts of the Valley and Prairie succumbed to illness and famine, and the Isle and the rest of Prairie... Just couldn't keep up. Not enough people left. There were ancestors left for almost a decade after the explosion in those parts, but all things come to an end eventually. Besides, darkness pollution had spread there, too, even if they got off easy.

As Spirits- Unable to fully die, tethered to the world- they were initially... It was a pitiful existence. Trapped in their own memories. But Skykids arrived, the world slowly recovered, and, very slowly, they did too. It got worse for them at first, when they gained awareness but couldn't interact with the world around them, and plenty chose to let go and fully pass on. Others remained, and, as time went on, they could do more. And more. It took a very long time, but... Eventually, in the modern day, the remaining Spirits are pretty much able to live relatively normal lives.

A fun fact- the Performance spirits were actually a huge driving force in why so many spirits stuck around. They absolutely REFUSED to let go, and their sheer force of will actually managed to speed the process a long a little- Proved to others that it actually does get better. Willpower... Usually isn't a part of the recovery process, so it's unclear how they managed to pull that off, but by golly, they did.

Anyways i absolutely LOVE getting these questions- I don't really play the game anymore (probably should) but the worldbuilding project is still one of my favorite things!! again i have really got to get back to writing that fic. Its on my mind. I just keep forgetting.

[iceswords]

Garden, Finch And A Trial

with everything else figured out from the watchmaker's legacy to gallagher's true identity, the only thing left was to find out what happened to mikhail and thus here yanqing was again at timesplit square. it was hard to not notice the new building -

- that had appeared after the astral express crew passed through dreamflux reef as yanqing walked up from the stairs from slumber town and headed towards it's direction. stopping in the middle of the flower design on the pavement gound where the tombstones lay.

" you wanted to find mikhail." came gallagher's voice causing yanqing to look over at him with a sour expression as he crossed his arms. the lieutenant was a little bit upset over having been lied to. while normally a thirty year old looking man couldn't possibly be thirteen years of age, there were the pepeshi running around and it can be hard to determine whether or not someone is the age they claim with how many different short life and long life species there are on penacony.

gallgeher nodded his head towards the fore mentioned building, not paying any mind to how yanqing was reacting to him as it was quite warranted. " there's where he'll be- his final resting place." he informed the boy as he was very aware of how close misha and yanqing had gotten.

" what exactly happened though?" yanqing decided to ask after practically glaring the man down. there was no more reason for gallgeher to keep lying now. nobody seems to be acknowledging misha as the watchmaker's grandson. was that because nobody else knows about that? was it something yanqing only learned from talking to misha and spending so much time with him?

most likely yet still the idea that the oh-so precious legacy mikhail had left behind could be anything other than misha was.. yeah, no. it was obviously misha. everybody else was just too far behind to realize it yet. it doesn't seem like a lot of people paid attention to misha in general. " I'm sure you get the guist of it. mikhail got into a disagreement with the family, mikhail left and never returned."

" yeah. I know. left misha behind." yanqing replied and shook his head at the very mention of what mikhail did. he didn't care much for mikhail but misha had been hurt by the man's actions, " but I was also thinking he left the planet yet you're saying that he's been sleeping up there this whole time."

" oh?" gallagher placed a hand to his chin as he looked down at the boy with interest, " so I take it you're of the opinion misha is the watchmaker's legacy then. quite the nice sentiment."

" I get that mikhail didn't get along with the family but.. did he really have to leave misha like that? his actual family." perhaps it was more personal for yanqing because he knew misha and perhaps the lieutenant related to the feeling of having been abandoned by your own flesh and blood. yanqing often got emotional whenever he watched a movie or show about an child who had lost their parents somehow and either were living on their own or ended up with terrible caretakers.

he paused and took a breath. wouldn't want to get too worked up or else yanqing would wake up. he looked up and out at the garden. he wondered if misha had ever gone up to see his grandfather yet.

" hmm.. afraid that is a question I can't answer but you are free to check it out for yourself, lieutenant." gallgeher informed and that was exactly what yanqing did. having to walk up quite the few stairs to reach the tranquil garden and then a few more to get to the gazebo like stature where mikhail sat in his wheelchair.

yanqing almost wanted to shake the old man awake yet when his eyes landed on him.. he knew that mikhail was long gone now. giving one of the wheels of the chair a kick out of frustration. " listen to me, old man. I don't care about your stupid stellaron or that stupid bubble you're holding.” lashing out at a person who couldn't even hear him. it was the only thing yanqing could do in that moment as whatever was inside the bubble could only ever hold any significance or meaning to the nameless and yanqing wasn't one of them, “did you really think some petty disagreement was more important than your own grandson!?”

before yanqing could kick at the wheel chair anymore, he would feel arms grab him under the armpits and pull him away though yanqing continued to yell at the dead man, “ coward! didn't even die an honorable death! just slept away up here in your dang wheelchair. " if yanqing had something to throw at the ‘asleep’ mikhail, he would even as he was being held back by arlan. “ could you stop it already? you don’t need yet another charge put against you.” the security guard noted as he stood there almost as tiff as a board and with feet practically rooted into the ground. they really didn’t need yanqing to throw off the handle again. it was much too much energy, frustration- yanqing didn’t feel as sunny as usual but there was still a fire in him. one that was currently being fuelled by so many different emotions and some of those emotions were new to yanqing. he just wanted to do.. something. put all this information and energy to good use somewhere.

once arlan knew that yanqing wasn’t going to do anything towards the sleeping old man, that was when he finally let go of him allowing the lieutenant to see who had decided to follow him up to the garden. he could see down below misha anxiously cleaning up the place, mumbling himself as he likely hadn’t come here before and looked nervous to see his grandfather again. huohuo without her tail had also been present in dreamflux reef and upon seeing a familiar face in yanqing likely had followed him up here. “ uh, um.. lieutenant yanqing. is-is this a g-good time to mention that.. somebody wants to talk to you? he said to tell you to meet him in the church later.” came her quiet and timid voice as she reached to ling onto her tail only to frown and look about ready to cry when she remembered that it was no longer there, opting to ling onto her skirt instead. “ yeah. the key word there being later. did he happen to say when this ‘later’ was?” yanqing asked the girl, knowing he would have to be a little more patient and gentle with her- just because of how huohuo naturally was but also because of the recent loss of mr tail. “ no.” huohuo answered with her foxian ears pointed down and her eyes drifting away as if feeling guilty from not having any useful information to give to the lieutenant while the lieutenant merely looked over her shoulder down at the hellhop for a moment before stepping over to the top of the stairs and deciding to call out to the boy, “ doing great, qīn'ài de!” that bellhop really needed some positive reinforcement, perking up upon hearing yanqing’s voice whilst huohuo heard the affectionate term the lieutenant used for misha and looked over in slight confusion, “ q-qīn’ai de..?” though yanqing’s focus was more on misha and watching his reaction therefore arlan had to ask her what that term meant before explaining the situation to her.

misha looked so pleased with himself after getting that stamp of approval even though he didn’t really understand what yanqing just called him, he could hear the tone of voice and get an idea that it was something sweet and nice. this positive reinforcement from yanqing would continue to go on while arlan and huohuo had their discussion about what has been happening and what huohuo missed. “ what happened to your tail?” arlan asked at one point certain that foxians usually had both a tail and ears whilst huohuo only had the ears but that question only caused the girl to burst out into tears. arlan panicked in reply as he tried to find some way to calm her down or undo the damage he just did without even knowing the context of why it was making her so upset. “ bad arlan! you never ask a lady about her physical appearance- has nobody told you that? also, misha, you can take a break now- spotless job as always!” yanqing scolded one boy and praised the other.

“ I am certain I have seen you ask a lady the same kind of question, yanqing, you egotistical hypocrite!” replied arlan.

“ knowing and doing are two different things.” retorted yanqing.

“ h-hey! don’t call the lieutenant that!” cried huohuo who was more crying over her own issues than what arlan called yanqing and yanqing picked up on this as he watched her and debated if it would be right for him to comfort her when he couldn’t do anything about what happened to mr tail. in the end yanqing decided to pull out his flute and play a little tune that always relaxed any orphan he came across as the group found somewhere in the garden to sit down. misha having curled up in yanqing’s lap. it was a calm and peaceful garden and the longer yanqing stayed there, the less he found himself blaming mikhail for choosing this as his final resting place yet he could never forgive the man for what he had put misha through no matter how long the lieutenant stayed in that garden. and all the while in the back of his mind, yanqing was thinking about the man who asked for his arrival in the church and wondered if it would be a good idea to go- could it have been sunday? that man was a priest or something, right? did he want yanqing to confess to his ‘sins’? or perhaps yanqing finally had gotten a bounty on his head and a galaxy ranger was coming to collect? he always wanted to meet a galaxy ranger! heroes who fought for what they believed in but unfortunately that acheron woman hadn’t truly been one of them. huohuo continued to sniffle but had slowly started to stop crying while arlan awkwardly stood on guard and watched for any disturbances while having an ear out for the tune that yanqing played as it seemed to not be that bad.

eventually yanqing decided to go out to see who had asked for him and what he could have wanted. walking into the place and immediately being greeted by church music that was in line with the path of the harmony but only managed to irritate the cloud knight. it would appear to not yet be time for his dual or trial as many people were present ranging from locals to guests- guests ranging from the pepeshi to the more mechanical lifeforms. yanqing stepped to the side, staying out of people’s way while not getting involved in what felt to him like a cult gathering. he would spot sunday up in the front beyond the rows of benches and talking.. about the harmony. how the harmony arrived in penacony and changed it into what it was today. that the harmony was what guided the family. he would also catch a glimpse of what appeared be a cyborg cowboy who was currently doing about the same thing as yanqing but instead the cowboy had found himself somewhere in the benches to sit with hat covering his face so that nobody knew if he was shut down or sleeping whilst sunday’s preaching and talking went on.

those were two of yanqing’s potential opponents- a bucket of bolts and bullets or a pigeon cooing - that sounded more like squeaking in yanqing’s ears - as loud as he can about the harmony. which one will be the one to strike first was left to be determined as yanqing waited until the church session was over and everyone else left.. leaving only yanqing and the cowboy in the room by themselves. a galaxy ranger and a cloud knight. putting these two in a room together was just asking for trouble as yanqing rested a hand on the helt of his sword, waiting to see what the cowboy will do. his yellow ember eyes were trained on the older man who eventually pulled out his gun and pointed it at the lieutenant who in turn withdrew his sword and pointed the tip of the blade at the cowboy.

silence continued to linger for a second longer until yanqing let out a prideful huff as he smirked to himself, “ what? I thought this was just how galaxy rangers said hello.”

yanqing walked out into the wide space of the church, restricted only by the benches that left enough room to crawl and hide for cover if the cowboy ever started to fire his gun at him yet the boy remained calm and vigilant with the tip of his sword still pointed at the cowboy. it was like the boy was in the middle of a western flim in which he arrived to a gunfight with a sword. typically you think that decision unwise but yanqing was quite efficient with the blade and felt confident that he could handle this with just his swords as he finally felt that his ice swords could finally pierce their way into the memoria and enter the dream.

the cowboy let out an amused chuckle at the boy as the barrel of his gun followed yanqing’s movements. “ really gettin’ friendly now, aren’t we?” the man remarked in reply and it wouldn’t be long now before the cowboy pulled the trigger and bullet went flying at yanqing who was able to move and think quickly within a second and slice the bullet in half. the dual had finally started as ice swords flew around the room, positioning themselves in a way that the cowboy had no where to run or hide- acting in a way similar to birds of prey as they watched for the man’s movements. the cowboy would shot a bullet at one of these ice swords only for the bullet to bounce off the icy cold blade and off to another resulting in few of the floating swords to end up playing a game of tennis or ping pong with each other using the bullet as the ball. at one point the game became hot potato until one sword decided to toss the bullet back to the cowboy who simply caught the bullet with his mouth and ate it before starting to go for the master of these swords who was floating off the ground now.

both yanqing and boothill were quick on their feet and able to dodge, block or counter attack each other’s strikes until yanqing summoned up the largest ice sword he could and send it flying down at the cowboy, wanting to see what he would do with that. he was filled with adrenaline and was currently raving off of the dopamine and vibrant firecracker-like signals in his brain that just kept going off one after the other. the dual only ended when a door opened and yanqing watched as the cowboy’s eyes looked over for a split second allowing the boy to get close enough to have the tip of his blade at the man’s throat. yanqing breathing in and out with sweat dripping off his forehead while a smirk slowly crossed his figures at having seemingly gotten the upper hand when boothill held up a finger for him to wait as sunday walked into the room from somewhere in the back and had a sour look on his face as if disappointed that the two had gotten into a fight but yanqing would soon realize that their fight had made a mess of the interior of the church.

“ oh. yes. it seems you have.. bonded in a way. have a good discussion while I was away? good, good.” sunday spoke using words to make it seem like he cared but yanqing knew better than that. the pastor didn’t even wait for either of them to answer his question before snapping his fingers and the damage that the two hunt pathstriders had caused was undone. not only that but yanqing soon found himself sitting in one of the benches, unaware of how he got there and without his sword this time while his ice swords had vanished.

boothill meanwhile was placed in a bench far away from the boy to keep the two from fighting again. as if distance would stop that. “ I have summoned you both here.. for a confession. if that confession leads to a trial, so be it. you will both be given your time to privately speak with me. any questions?”

“ yeah.. how does this ‘confession’ thing work exactly?” asked yanqing who had never been in a church even a day in his life until that day. sunday only shook his head to show any annoyance he had about the boy’s question before carefully considering how to answer it in a way that would make sense to the young boy, “ do you see that brown box behind me? that is a confession box. I sit in one side and you sit in the other. you speak, I listen and give guidance. anything you say in the box will not leave the box unless I deem what you said suggests danger towards yourself or others. do you understand, lieutenant?” he explained to yanqing who did his best to listen and take in the information before nodding in reply when sunday asked him if he understood, having looked over to the confession box in question when it was pointed out to him in the explanation.

“ what if.. we don’t want to confess?” was yanqing’s follow up question to which he would hear the cowboy give up a ‘oohh! that’s a good one’ as neither of the two were very thrilled about the concept of confessing to the man. “ fine. you can sit in silence if you wish but not saying anything at all may make things much more harder for you than lying if you wish for me to.. get off your back.” sunday had answered, “ but please do not think to lie to me. I will know. do not ask how, lieutenant, I simply will. and no, I am not reading your mind. please remain seated here until I call for you.” and when sunday was done explaining that, he would turn on heel and head into his side of the confession box.. letting the two sit in silence for a moment or two longer. an attempt to teach the both of them some patience.

yanqing chose to investigate his side of the church but found himself unable to stand up from the bench but could still move around of his own accord otherwise, looking along the books and papers that were kept in some kind of shelf on the back of the bench in front of him. many of the books were harmony textbooks, some were advertisements for soulglad or some toy or a line of clothing and some were pamphlets for therapy or dealing with mental illness. how to overcome imposter syndrome was on one of the covers of such pamphlets and another read stop buying so many swords! you have enough! but he also happened to spot a few books in the style of children’s stories. picked up one which cover featured birds- a charmony dove, a finch, a few pigeons and a swallow. he opened and flipped to the chapter on the swallow which graphically showcased the story of a swallow who grew up with lions and ended up getting eaten by the lions when it’s ground was let down.

yanqing became startled by the imagery and quickly closed the book before rushingly shoving it back into the little shelving unit. he really wanted his dad right now.. but instead took in a breath and pulled himself together. he can handle whatever this was. " hey, kid, you good?" came the cowboy's voice who had seen the boy's reaction to whatever he was seeing and started to become a little worried.

" what does it matter to you, sharkman?" the boy retorted doing his best to act tough but you could see the way he was shaking, exhausted from the fight and now dealing with whatever mental game sunday was putting him through.

" it matters because you're shakin' like a leaf!" replied boothill who would soon think more on what yanqing said before cackling, " sharkman.. good one." causing the boy to lighten up a little and smile. boothill would see this and sit up more straight. " you did real good back there. never seen swords play ping-pong with my bullet before and you were.. real fast. where'd you learn that from?" he asked in attempt to distract yanqing from whatever was bothering the boy since boothill knew that the boy had a lot of fun in that duel.

" I.. well. I was taught by general jing yuan but I've been getting into a lot of sparrs or fights with different people. it is important to pick up techniques from every encounter you have- learn at least something. that's how you become a better warrior!" yanqing enthusiastically explained to the old man, quickly switching from a defensive yet slightly frightened kitten into a excited little lion cub. still a kitten either way but now more happy and prideful.

" hah! that's right!" exclaimed boothill watching as the young boy practically shine with pride as yanqing stood up straight with chest puffed out and arms crossed. it seems the distraction was working. who knew when sunday would call for one of them though, " general jing yuan though.. I heard that name before. it's the fella that runs that rufou flagship, right? haven't had the pleasure of meetin' the man yet but he sure as hell raised a good kid here. gettin' into a little bit of trouble is natural for someone your age, don't worry too much about that."

hearing a complete stranger who had become more of a friend now that the two bonded, yanqing couldn't help but feel reassured by the older's words of praise and admiration. being told that you are a good boy was never something one could grow tired of hearing no matter how many times yanqing hears it in one day.

still.. hearing it from an outsider's perspective was even more rewarding because boothill didn't hold the same expectations or views of yanqing as any back on the xianzhou luofu would have. " boothill. it is time." came sunday's voice to interrupt their conversation and now finally boothill found himself able to stand, giving final words to the boy before heading into the other side of the confession box.

it was silent for a few seconds before suddenly the confession box exploded with shouts and screaming as whatever sunday had said offended boothill and in turn boothill started to throw insults at sunday as it seemed boothill's weapon had been taken from him too. a sweat drop and sigh, yanqing would pull up his phone and text jing yuan.

yanqing would look over the message he wrote out for a second or two, taking in a breath and letting it out before deciding to click send. and within moments he would see those three dots indicating that jing yuan was typing out a reply and soon that reply followed.

yanqing looked over the reply, reading the words and taking it in. calling jing yuan dad wasn't something that the boy normally did- this was something that jing yuan was fully aware of and hence the mere term being used was something akin to sending a flare, an sos as the boy felt scared and needed reassurance. boothill had helped of course but yanqing really needed his dad.. especially after reading that chapter about the swallow and lions.

his eyes eventually just stared at 'I will wait outside' as he took in deep breaths and tried to relax. didn't want to wake up just yet - not that whatever spell sunday casted would allow the boy to wake anyway. yanqing had the comfort of knowing jing yuan would be outside the church when it was time to leave. that was good enough for now when suddenly- " lieutenant yanqing." sunday's voice called out causing yanqing to look up and notice that boothill had left the building entirely.

he would pocket his phone, take another breath as he stood up and headed towards the confession box. no more door on the confessor's side of the box as it appeared that boothill somehow broke it at some point and therefore yanqing merely stepped in and sat down, placing hands on his lap.

sunday gave the boy another moment to adjust before speaking up to start them off, " through me, the harmony speaks and through me, the harmony listens. speak now, child, and speak honestly. of whatever troubles you."

it didn't exactly help to know that an aeon was using the older man's body to listen in on yanqing. he thought this was supposed to be private and yanqing didn't exactly believe in the aeon of harmony. he was on the path of the hunt. " that children's story book.. you should have known that I would see it." the boy started with a side eye at sunday through the window that separated man and boy, " the one about the birds. were you tormenting me? it had your fingers all over it. or well.. your thoughts anyway."

" right now I am a vessel for the harmony." sunday calmly answered void of all emotion or expression as if he truly was possessed by a divine being or devil, completely ignoring the boy's antagonising demeanor and focusing on giving words of advice, " I cannot speak on my own thoughts but it is clear you have suspicions and doubts towards me. perhaps you should ask yourself why you see only evil in my intentions. do you have any evil within yourself? I can assure you that the harmony only wishes to help you.. to guide you.. towards a better path or at least to the more correct path for you."

yanqing squinted at the man with some both confusion and annoyance. mind games were quite tiring and frustrating to be in the middle of. yanqing didn't like them at all but here he was again.. " I am on the correct path for me." two can play at this mind game. aventurine showed him how and yanqing found out the hard way who not to play this game with, "perhaps you should ask yourself why you allow an aeon to control your actions and words. do you not trust your own judgment? I trust mine. my judgement has served me quite well so far." yanqing responded to the questions with his own. all honest. all as straightforward and direct as yanqing liked it to be.

yanqing's mind and tongue having grown to become as quick and sharp as his sword. he could see a hint of irritation on sunday's face at the deflection and smirked to himself. either he was annoying sunday himself or yanqing just managed to annoy the harmony THEMSELF. a win on yanqing's part no matter which it was though.

" yes. so well that you ran upon the bloodhounds catching scent of your dishonour. aren't you ashamed as a xianzhou native, as a warrior? your word is your bond yet you were willing to break it upon entering penacony." sunday spoke.

" yes and with my judgement, I have found a way to restore that honour. I found the true legacy of the watchmaker. " yanqing revealed knowing full well that the man wouldn't be able to tell anyone about this, " you want to know what it is, right? I can't tell you that. I gave my word that I wouldn't spoil anything for others."

" how considerate of you, lieutenant yanqing." sunday spoke calmly yet you could see his eyebrow begin to twitch a little when the boy spoke about the watchmaker's legacy. clearly feeling somewhat annoyed that the boy took full advantage of the anything-being-said-in-the-box-not-leaving-the-box deal that they made earlier. " it does appear that you have truly reflected on your actions and had endured the consequences yet you haven't been punished enough- not for entering the golden hour. something has been letting a few children slip in unnoticed.." he explained to the boy before shaking his head, " no. you did not do that. "

that smirk of yanqing's slowly faded as he started to see the effects of angering an aeon as it felt as though all the lights in the church went out. the door on the ground flying up and closing yanqing in the confinement he now found himself in. it felt much smaller because of that.. the only source of light was sunday's halo and some kind of rainbow and bright white rays that was coming off of the man. " you.. you have caused much more trouble in the past, haven't you? yet you never seem to learn.. to truly learn." the halovain's voice almost echoed into what could have been the vacuum of space itself right now if yanqing couldn't feel the seat he sat on and his fingers didn't claw at and ling to the wooden walls of his side of the confession box.

holding on for dear as if the box would suddenly spin around and drop yanqing into the middle of no where. he couldn't even look at sunday now- much too much light. it was nearly blinding. " I'm sorry- I'm sorry- please don't be mad!" came the boy's pleas for forgiveness as he found himself terrified for his life, " let me out of here! sorry sorry sorry sorry-" he kept on repeating that one word until eventually it didn't even sound like a word anymore but yanqing didn't know what else to do as he watched as the rainbow and white light moved away from him and soon the boy was left in the darkness. in nothingness.

it was hard to tell where he even was anymore.. was it still that church? yanqing was trapped, that's all he knew. he clawed, kicked, punched and did everything he could to get out but nothing was working as he balled his eyes out. maybe.. maybe sunday would come back. no, he couldn't count on that man. all yanqing could hope for was that he was still in the church and jing yuan would be able to hear him.

" dad! daaaddd!! come get me, I'm scared! can you hear me?" yanqing eventually stopped apologizing and just kept calling out to his father who he truly hoped would come running to help him and eventually.. the blade of the ever so familiar spar sliced the box open allowing the boy to run out, be picked up and held in the arms of the man who raised him.

yanqing cried himself even more exhausted within those seven system hours of being put into a 'time out' by sunday. laying head on jing yuan's chest and falling to an even deeper sleep as jing yuan held him close and carried him out of there.

[dogtoling]

I dunno if they're on the quiz (probably not) but I wanna know more about the fetus gobbler (Phoenix? I think)

sgdfjgsdf for the love of GOD please don't call him the fetus gobbler this is killing me but actually he IS on the quiz! he's just not called Phoenix

he's got kind of a LOT going on. For those who are new or just didn't see or read it, I made this small comic last month about him that doesn't really explain a whole lot. But the tl;dr is that he was made in a lab. (Koira spearheaded that. For extremely meta reasons, but also because they're always excited to do illegal and morally ambiguous science projects that nobody will fund)

(there he is, science is amazing)

..but Phoenix IS on the quiz, he's just not called that. "Phoenix" is actually a resurrection/clone of Lumo, a guy who died in 2007

he even has a little tableturf-style picture of his own. (he's the guy with probably the most lore out of all my OCs and absolutely the least screentime)

The long version of what happened and what led to him dying, why he was RESURRECTED which is LITERALLY playing god, and everything that happened between is so long I'm not even getting into it. But the short version is that he's the original founder and leader of an Octarian street gang called the Leopards (yes, the extinct animal) and after his death, a lot of things happened over there that eventually culminated into... the current leader getting him resurrected as a bizarre solution for a really specific problem

In life, he was best friends with a blue-ringed octopus called Martin (who is also a possible result in the quiz but has also been very rare). When Lumo died, his ashes and beak were salvaged and kept, and while Flint (his brother) initially kept them for many years they kinda got tossed around between people

(i drew this picture of Martin holding the remains for fun, I just thought it was cool)

...until they got stolen. And the deal with Phoenix is that his body was made out of a tentacle cutting of his brother as the base, but also his own remains, which are MOSTLY ASH. Hence the name, and while he still recognizes himself as Lumo... trying to introduce yourself as someone who died almost 20 years ago especially in circles where that person was kind of widely known raises a lot more questions than it's worth.

(i drew that just the other day and it's a good thing i did because i have like no other fullbodies)

So the entire "fetus gobbler" thing comes from the comic. which first of all he's not literally eating children. Due to the state that his admittedly very fucked-up body is in (he's technically a reanimated corpse) he's got to take injections of DEFINITELY ILLEGAL "fetus juice" which is basically a solution extracted from fertilized eggs (call it essence of life or whatever). Because a lot of his body was literally ash before some of it was restored, it obviously means all the cells were long-dead, and a lot of what makes up his body is reanimated. however because of how experimental the science is (it's EXTREMELY ILLEGAL), those cells don't really function normally and if left to its own devices, his body will essentially just start.... dying again, which the life essence mitigates

Even with that, though, with his body being extremely strange and unstable and containing the DNA of at least three different octopus species (he was already a hybrid in life) - and technically he's his brother's clone now, if anything, hence the branching tentacles... his body doesn't really know how to just Be half the time and he's never really in a stable state. Which means he's extremely easy to splat, which sometimes happens spontaneously, and uh this is what happens

basically it takes a LONG time for his tissues to figure out how the hell to reform, and he often reforms incorrectly anyway. So basically, he is dealing with a lot, just aside from the worlds most necessary identity crisis

[liviavanrouge]

Bishop Union Birthday vignette

Part 1

Bishop: To think this day would come, I feel like I'm getting so old at this point despite being so young, it's a bit saddening...

Bishop: The interviewer that the magical birthday dice selected is gonna be here soon, I wonder whobwas chosen for be

???: Be grateful you annoying cub, you don't gotta deal with outsiders

Bishop: NICEEEEE!

Leona: *Smirks at him* Someone seemed overly eager and happy

Bishop: Or course I am! I was hoping an upperclassman would interview me!

Leona: I can tell

Bishop: Thanks dorm head for celebrating my birthday!!

Leona: No need to yell, here take this and be grateful

Bishop: Is this....WOAH!! NEW TOOLS!

Bishop: Hammer, screwdrivers, wrench, holy apples above!!

Leona: Looks like you're grateful, you better be it was either the tools or an apple tart from a port bakery

Bishop: I'll have to go grab an apple tart after this, as an extra birthday treat, thanks for these tools dorm head

Leona: Yeah, yeah, happy birthday cub but you best be more grateful to Ziro

Bishop: Why?

Leona: He practically carried me out of my bed to go get you a gift and that was about an hour and a half ago

Leona: Thanks to him I was able to grab you a gift before it was too late, be grateful to my little brother

Bishop: I shall thank Ziro later too then and grab him a thank you gift!

Leona: You cubs and your enthusiasm, sometimes it makes me tired

Bishop: *Laughs, grinning at him*

~~~~

Part 2

Leona: Okay, I'll begin with the questions

Bishop: Shoot!!

Leona: *Smirks amused* If you could take any one person with you to a deserted island, who would it be? Anyone in the dorm cannot join you

Bishop: *Hums* A deserted island you say?

Bishop: I'd choose Livia, my fellow freshman in Diasomnia!

Leona: *Narrows his eyes, growling* Little Hunter?! Why her!

Bishop: She's believed by the queen and prince of the Valley of Thorns right? Not to mention that she told me and the others that she's the daughter of a retired general

Bishop: If she goes missing, no doubt will the queen and prince go NUTS trying to find her and locate where she was

Leona: Smart.

Bishop: But also because her species have good noses and intuition, not to mention she is pretty strong I saw her tackle hug MALLEUS DRACONIA down the other day, and that guy is about as strong as faes come

Bishop: We'd be able to easily find a good source of water and ripe food while we await rescue, if no rescue comes we'd both be smart enough to make something to escape either a boat maybe a raft

Bishop: We'd also have enough food but according to Livia she's able to go three days without eating or drinking anything

Leona: HUH!?

Bishop: We'd be able to escape quite easily either way, so she's my choice for that!

Leona: Hah, you thought this through cub, you got some of my respect

Bishop: *Laughs* Yep!

~~~~

Part 3

Leona: Next one, if you had to transfer to a different form which one would you go to

Bishop: Ignihyde.

Leona: Quick answer. Why that dorm? Someone with your personality wouldn't fit there too well you know..

Bishop: Hahaha! I've always fiddled with gadgets since I was young, when I was a baby my father would have to pry certain gizmos away from me!

Bishop: I also wanna get ideas from the other students there and it's hard to see an ignihyde student in the wild, so being in their dorm gives me a higher chance to get someone's approval for whatever I make

Bishop: I also wanna learn out to chillax as well, Ruggie and Jack say I'm too headstrong...

Leona: Hate to say it, but I gotta agree with those two, you tend to rush into things

Leona: I still remember when you and your little troublemaking group of friends met

Bishop: Haha, yeah...well I didn't have many friends growing up, mainly just me and Epel and even if kids my age did come around either to visit for celebrations or certain festivities, nobody wanted to talk to me

Bishop: I never understood why at first, whenever I approached they'd glare at me before I had a chance to speak or they'd take off running....I soon found out that it was because I wasn't exactly normal and they saw me goofing about and being kinda weird

Leona: That's rough, but rude of them to judge you from what they seen rather than talking to ya.

Leona: Listen, I will say this once and I will deny I ever said this after today, but you're a good kid.

Leona: Don't let people judge because they say you doing something weird, show them that you can be approachable

Bishop: Y-YES DORM HEAD!!

Leona: *Frowns* Too loud.

Bishop: Ah! Sorry....I got excited for a moment there

Bishop: Is the interview over? Tell me it's not

Leona: Sadly for you, it is over and time for your long awaited good luck gift

Bishop: *Whoops, doing a small jig*

Leona: Something your mother taught you?

Bishop: Yep! She taught me all of her tribes dances, I do them when I'm happy or when I'm visiting the family for a celebration!

Leona: Got it, well be prepared cub! Happy birthday!

Bishop: *Beams, grinning*

----

Bishop: *Laughs with his hands on his knees, one eye closed as he gave Leona a big grin, whip cream staining his cheeks forehead and jacket*

[sablesreblogs]

I feel like yelling into a void for a hot second to release some thoughts I have in my head about the “Species” community. Closed species, open species, the whole lot that were birthed on DeviantArt as a subsection of the Adoptables Community (or at least I so assume). Fairly popular with furries and all, but there are some “human”/humanoid species as well. It’s been in my head for a little too long, so maybe typing it out will rid the rot lmfaoo.

In general, Species are ok. To me, at least.

For those reading who may not know, a Species is a character type (aka, species) someone claims to have made and adds different traits and their personal lore to. They subsequently either say anyone can make one (open species), you can only use some traits freely but basically anyone can still make one (semi-open/semi-closed species), or nobody but the owner/staff/people with Make Your Own tickets can make one (closed species). They often involve a community aspect, hopefully hold some lore or storytelling that you could pair up with a character you own in the species, and ones with good staffing (a group of people, alongside the owner(s), who curate/answer questions) will run events, raffles, or produce a variety of adoptables.

Some species have a lot of lore and very original designs, some do not. Some have good staffing, some do not. Some are expensive to buy into, some are not. And, of course, there is an utterly massive trading culture around character designs (just like with the adoptable community).

The main complaint saddled onto species, most often the closed species subsection but technically applies to them all, is that “You can’t own a design concept like that. >:( Legally, you can’t own it!!! Original or not!!! I can make a character that looks just like that with any traits I want!” YES! I absolutely agree with you. You are CORRECT! In my personal beliefs, you aren’t paying (for closed or semi-open species) for the “MYO” just to use the traits on that design. You’re paying for the ability to interact with the community with a character. You're paying to use the lore alongside your character. You’re paying for a status. You’re paying for a collectable. You’re paying to get. into. the. club. YES it’s like a brand name. YES they’re only worth as much as you can throw them. NO, you don’t have to like that. But I don’t see nearly as much hate being thrown at people who collect rare Pokémon cards, or hot wheels, or whichever other item that has many copies made but are still collected for enjoyment. Those are, similarly, just hunks of plastic or pieces of paper. But people like the status and the community that comes along with it, and that’s ok! You don’t have to toss money to buy into the closed species (or, you don’t have to follow species rules for an open or semi-open species), just like you don’t have to buy a Pokémon card, but don’t expect for the Pokémon players(?) to allow you into a game with a fake deck of cards. There is a community for you! People will likely still be very happy to play with you and your own cards, especially if you just call them your own type of card (ie, just making your own character with whatever traits you want. Hell, even making your own free-range species!), but you probably just won’t be able to play Pokémon without a real deck. People also probably won’t pay big bucks for a fake card or a fakemon, unless they think the art is interesting.

You don’t have to like the rules, but you also don’t have to play the game!

Now, those species/species community members that Blacklist/harass people for “copying” a species? They can go eat dirt. Actually put their faces right into a pile of mud. Eat floor grime. Because that’s rude! I don’t support that at all! (AGAIN, you have EVERY RIGHT to make a similar concept character, unless you are downright stealing a specific design or copying the exact lore) But I also don’t support intentionally harassing or breaking rules of a species just to piss the staff, community, or owner(s) off when they’ve done nothing to you. Because that’s rude too. You can’t turn around twice and expect to be facing a different direction. If they bully you first? Go off. If you aren’t actually stealing/gatekeeping, you don’t have to listen to them. This goes both ways.

Another complaint I see is that many species, closed or open, are “unoriginal!” but I fail to see why that diminishes their right to exist. I also see people forgetting that people aren’t just getting the design for the design, sometimes they’re getting it to play into the lore built around it or the community or even events! Or, sometimes, yeah. People just want the design, or the art. That’s their problem! Like I said, you are COMPLETELY able to make a character with any of those traits you clearly like on the species, but just because the artist selling the “unoriginal” species is making some money or is fostering a community (because some closed species aren’t monetarily driven! I’ve seen enough that run off of events or their own fake currencies to where you don’t even have to pay a dime to get ahold of one.) doesn’t mean you should be mad. Just like big brands, sometimes people simply like them more than a plain version or the knockoff, but unlike big brands you’re not supporting some big mega company. Artists are artists. You’re still allowed to support the little guy, though! If you don’t wanna pay for the big brand, don’t pay for the big brand! Support the small local guy when you can.

I will note that I don’t personally support species that don’t have a lot going for them, but I also don’t think they’re bad. I don’t really like species that don’t have an active and supportive staff team. I won’t buy closed species/closed trait MYOs with real money (I would consider it for adopts, as the artist put work into it! but I’ve yet to even do that). I want to be able to see there’s a community around, generally, so I’ll have a reason to be into it all. I don’t enjoy species without some semblance or hint at lore or background, and, of course, I only get characters I like the look of and generally intend to use. But some people don’t care about all that. Some people like to buy, some people like to trade up, some people don’t care about there being a community, some people want to collect silly little guys to just look at sometimes, some people want there to be consistent events and a large team, some people like drama that comes along with the more… testy sides of the community. In the end, it’s all for fun.

I’ve helped staff Species in the past, and in the present. I’ve been apart of a few communities, open and closed. I’ve seen the drama from communities I’m both in and not in (there’s been plenty). I’ve owned “rip-offs”, and I’ve removed (even introduced) MANY characters from species without changing their designs one bit. I’ve also never spent a dime to pay for a closed species character, and yet have owned and currently own several.

My belief boils down to “Do whatever you want to, so long as you aren’t hurting anyone.” If Mr.Skippy McGee wants to spend $200 on a character design or MYO and has the money to do it, great! If little Mike wants to make a food themed sparkle dog closed species, awesome! You want to also make a separate food themed sparkle dog, or even a food themed sparkle dog open species, go get ‘em tiger! Just be civil. Block if someone gets too feisty, report if they get mean, and remember if all you have is a room full of assholes all you’re going to be doing is smelling your own farts with fistfuls of bullshit.

Thank you.

[pall0r-mortis]

NAME: Sid Philips

GODLY PARENT (IF APPLICABLE): Hephaestus

AFFILIATION: Alumni (2013 - current)

SPECIES: Demigod

ABILITIES: Technokinesis

BIOGRAPHY:

(CW: Child abuse (past), injury, death)

Sid has never been anything but bold.

It was a survival necessity, right from the time he was old enough to understand his father's anger would always spin towards him, and he did learn that so very young. A man with so much wealth and notoriety in the medical field, and such shockingly little patience for his son, so little respect for his wife's success; Paul Philips was never fit to be a parent.

Sid tried to remedy the mistake as soon as he could start formulating plans to run away; he didn't belong there. But they always brought him back. They never listened. Home was not home for him.

He likes to think it was his real father looking out for him when one of his attempts to run led him right to a winged horror, snapping teeth, and a sudden realization.

He really didn't belong there.

The creature that found him - a satyr, he found out soon enough - was surprised. But Sid had been cultivating a talent for hiding all his life; it served him well when the beast came hunting for him. Nobody saved Sid, he saved himself; and he already knew the answer before the question was asked.

He was going home.

He went to his father.

Not the mortal man who had snapped his wrist in a fit of anger before it told him he was useless with the same regularity most parents say I love you, his real father. A god, a being who had never known him so had never forsaken him. The one who claimed him, the one Sid has worked hard to make proud.

That was where he belonged.

Sid never left. Why would he?

He has freedom he didn't before, he can build, he can enjoy the simple pleasure of creating with his own hands, melding and crafting and constructing what is needed, and whatever strikes him to. Hard work has never bothered him, he thrives there, meticulous, unwavering. It's a strange thing to feel content some days, but he is.

And the monsters don't frighten him, he knew plenty of those with human faces before, so he can handle the ones with claws just fine. In fact, Sid can handle a lot. He went to war without blinking, a child still, because every effort to shelter him in camp he ignored. He played no resounding part perhaps, but his cultivated talents served him well; he was impassively vicious when need be, detached, always a survivor. He returned when some didn't, and he accepted that was just the cost.

In the years since he's realized that cost was too high and has grown cold towards the gods who stir up war, but he is his godly father's son; his will is iron if it must be.

Sid remains at camp; most of his time is spent fixing things his less focused siblings break in their eagerness to create, or directing the newcomers around the cabin with a non-nonsense air. Because he wants to keep the monsters at bay for them, he wants them to survive. He wants to see some of the horror in their eyes fade faster than it did from his own.

But if any of his siblings happen to catch one of the younger ones running around camp with some intricate clockwork toy in hand, huddled together laughing over some gleaming trinket fit together with springs and scrap metal by a particularly talented hand, they know he'll only shrug off the questions about what he does so many late hours alone in the cabin workshop.

Maybe the cost of the years past have begun to add up in his mind; he sees too many mirrors of himself in the broken children who often arrive only to watch them fall later, far too many times.

But he can't save them, he knows; they have to save themselves.

He isn't as warm as he is direct, but he's learned to temper his anger away from the youngest and picks his fights with those better suited to matching his ironclad opinions and sharp tongue. He enjoys it, actually; sometimes the pressure builds so hot under his skin it has to go somewhere.

People returning back to camp to celebrate an old victory feels laughable to him, but ultimately he doesn't care; the gods like the attention and if it keeps them from starting little squabbles it's less hassle for him.

[4denthusiast]

There's a popular post complaining about the repeated unexamined use of some tropes in a certain sort of fantasy story (they turned reblogs off and I'm not quite sure what the etiquette on responding to such a post is, but I figure if I'm not specifically drawing their attention it's probably fine?), and gives "what if races were real" and "what if the divine right of kings was real" as examples. I get the point they're making, but I think both of those, if well thought through, could actually be interesting premises for a fantasy story.

In real life, psychological differences between different human ethnicities (not counting cultural stuff), if they exist at all, are pretty negligible, which makes racial tolerance and stuff mostly a pretty simple position. If everyone is basically the same in the ways that matter, everyone deserving equal treatment follows pretty directly. In a fictional world where there actually are clear differences, how to deal with it becomes a more interesting question. If a species existed that were half way, or 1/4 of the way, or whatever else, between humans and chimps, where do they end up in the range of the rights humans have vs. the rights chimps have? When animals murder each other we may be a bit sad if we happen to see it, but practically nobody considers that an actual issue like such an extremely high murder rate in a group of people would be. Again, where do you draw the line? If angels are known to be morally incorruptible and are willing to run for office, do you still allow humans to take positions of power? Do you want a world where you can trust that everyone running it will never lie or try to cheat you, if that means they're all also something terribly different from you? If satyrs chafe under the restrictions of civilization, what sort of legal framework could be used to let them live the life they want while also making sure other species can rest safe knowing satyrs aren't going to just get away with killing them or stealing from them? Does this involve physically separate regions for them to live? Is it fair to refuse to employ a fairy (they're known to be mischevious and deceptive), if you know all the other employers are doing the same thing? What level of irreconcilable violent tendencies does it take before genocide becomes the least bad option, like we do with insect pests? Or do you keep those you can alive as prisoners of war, and if so, what then? Just keep the population going forever like animals in a zoo? How many futile attempts at integrating orcs into human society does it take before you give up? Or what if it very rarely does work, but in the vast majority of cases where it doesn't, they do a huge amount of harm in the process? How much anti-racism can you get anyway in a fictional world where one of the most important arguments against racial discrimination just clearly isn't true?

(I would like to emphasise, to try to avoid misunderstandings, that I'm not trying to say any of this is true in real life, where racial differences tend to be limited to stuff like lactose intolerance and what hairstyles you can do. It's about the hypothetical. If significant racial differences where real, what then?)

I have less ideas for divine right of kings. If the heavens say this person would be a great ruler, how much do you trust the heavens (both to know what they're talking about and to be aligned with your values)? How much of the problems dictatorship causes are due to the fact that the people most likely to become dictators are bad people, and how much is just an inherent effect of the system, that even the best ruler couldn't avoid? I still feel like there are opportunities to take this in interesting directions.

[grimwood-notice-board]

WHITE SAVIOR COMPLEX | HERO OR VILLAIN?

By Eldon Macwood

As a mostly white person, I still hate the white savior complex. When I was six, living in Colorado, I played Cowboys and Indians with some classmates. We went to this huge boulder that had trees growing out of it, to us, it was a mini-mountain we could play out our larping. As the cowboy, I was captured by the Indian. But as a prisoner, I learned of their cause, and fought with them against the evil cowboys. Granted, the version we played out wasn't nowhere near as cool as it sounds, because we were all like, six years old, lol, but in our heads, it was a movie to behold. This was in 1987. Although I'm sure it wasn't the story of equality our little hearts thought it was, but for us, it was. Even back then, we kids knew that racism was a thing. And when we played Cowboys and Indians, we had no desire to make the Natives be the bad guys.

But see, back then, I wasn't playing the role of the white savior. Instead, I became an ally who fought alongside, and that's different than playing a savior. Here's another story idea, if a white person is the only one around capable of saving other characters who aren't white, what are they supposed to do? Let them die so that said white character isn't acting like a savior? I'd say the decent thing to do would be to help out in any way, not because that person is white, but because they genuinely care about the lives of others. To say otherwise would be judging them on the basis of the color of their skin, doesn't fall under racism? It did back in my day.

But, if the character is there to play white savior, then I prefer them to fuck it all up, would have been better if they were never there, so now they must do their best to fix their shit. Basically, this is why outsiders aren't allowed in the village, because they always fuck shit up. They go around, playing hero, and some ppl die.

Outsiders are like that kid who's the reason why you can't have anything nice. lol. At least, this can be a thing. Us Humans for a long ass time have always been a fight or flight species, like so many. We evolved in large part to socializing with the right people. And how we do that, we recognize one another as friend or foe. So outsiders, we don't know them, and they have no reason to care about our group. In the matter of culture, or race, would it be much different?

On the other hand, what about outsiders, regardless if they are white, becoming a member of that culture? What about white people who became part of Native tribes before the end of the American Indian Wars? They lost their white status once they were fully allowed. Kina like my earlier example. I was thinking that Chief Logan was once a white man. And Blue Jacket. When I think about either, I think of them as Natives because they were allowed to transition their lives. They foreshook their old ways, and took on the ways of the tribe. Respecting it as a real Native would. I'm pretty sure that nobody thinks of Blue Jacket or Chief Logan as white saviors.

Which also begs the question if the movie, Last Samurai, is a white savior movie. Tom Cruise’s character Nathan Algren was based on Jules Brunet, a French captain who fought alongside the Tokugawa army during the Boshin Wars. And yet, look up anything about white savior tropes, and that movie comes up.

But to the point at hand, I much prefer to see more diverse characters with their own agency. Who save themselves, and their people. If a white character is there, let them be an ally, a friend, because they want to be. That's not being a white savior, that's being a fucking Human being. Of course, this doesn't mean you can't have a white lead. This doesn't mean you if you're white, you can't write non-white characters. I do believe whatever you write, you should do your best to make it as authentic as possible, and from there, write your story. But if you're going to write the same old trope-shit like the white savior, please, turn it around in such a way that it fits.

That's what Frank Herbert did with Dune.

All of that being said, I'm currently writing a one off novel that's a samurai grimdark story called, The Weeping Tiger, that does just that, flips the trope on its head. When I'm done with writing, polishing, and editing, I will release it on Kindle Vella, and then after my exclusive time is up, I will have it available on Kindle. I will make it clear that it's the same book, just in different formats. Can't wait!

[wittez]

looking for attention

  EPISODE ZERO.

in which we meet kozume kenma, age seventeen and in desperate need of some sleep.

( a prologue. )

  [IDOL CAMP JP] ARE YOU READY TO PRODUCE THE HOTTEST NEW BOY GROUP THIS YEAR?

[+3,672, -1,739] another season of this???? for real??? we got the point 4 seasons ago

[+2,193, -509] mf focus on last year’s winners before making a new damn group i bet they already made friends with the rats in the basement from how little promotions they get

“you look like an idiot, kuro.”

the idiot in question shoots him a wink in lieu of giving him anything resembling a real reply, the golden sunlight filling in the clubroom via the dull windows kenma’s so painstakingly tried cleaning over and over again illuminating sharp features arranged in a soft expression. “wanna help me out? i need a backup dancer for this next song,” kuroo doesn’t even bother pausing the camcorder that sits smack in the middle of the room for this intermission, a relic from an older time courtesy of a box of his sister’s forgotten belongings after moving out. if kenma mentioned it the older boy would claim he’d edit out the irrelevant footage later, but kenma’s not so sure he can trust his word on it.

“pass. i’m tired already,” says kenma, eyes remaining trained on the rpg menu displayed on his psp’s screen. now, if he was in a game, this is right about the time he’d choose the FLEE option.

unfortunately, this time it’s kuroo’s turn to act. “c’mon, bro. just one song, alright?” kenma doesn’t know why kuroo even asks in the first place; because if there’s one thing about him it’s he doesn’t accept a no for an answer. he’s persistent to a fault, really. resourceful, kuroo would correct him with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. irritating is the word kenma finds far more apt to describe his best friend. maybe kuroo’s trying to craft a pantomime of politeness, but after knowing him for this many years that’s more laughable than it is convincing. and he didn’t even throw in a please or thank you, so is it even that skilled of a performance to begin with?

it’s tuesday, and school’s been out for the day for a couple hours by now— it’s late enough that the rest of the dance club is long gone after a chorus of invitations to karaoke and see you tomorrows, yet judging by the sun outside it’s still early enough that kenma’s mother won’t get on his case for not being home by dinnertime. not yet, anyway. she will if kuroo keeps him here much longer, though, especially given that today’s a shogiyaki kind of day.

this is how kozume kenma caves, after a cursory glance at the time on his smartphone; when it’s not kuroo coercing him directly it’s by proxy, and in this case the impending threat of doom via his mom is enough for awkward, sore limbs to slowly struggle into an upright position. “sure, i guess.” hell hath no fury like a mother scorned, after all, and there’s little that pisses the woman off more than the sanctity of family dinners being perturbed by scheduling conflicts.

kenma pads into frame, languid footsteps leading him to kuroo’s side. if he said the blinking red light of the video camera doesn’t have stage fright seeping into the spaces between every joint of his body as though it were synovial fluid that would be about as honest as saying cows are blue, but nobody asked him and thus he won’t mention it at all.

like most things in kenma’s life, of course, that later proves to be the wrong choice.

because, a week or five after the fact, wonderful news befall upon a barely-conscious kenma on a saturday at a time far too early to be pleasant (for any species other than whatever those birds that just love chirping first thing in the day are, anyway).

LOOK SUSPICIOUS? MARK AS SPAM         (YES / NO)

FROM: tetsuroukuroo@yahoo.co.jp

SUBJECT: FWD: Your application for Idol Camp JP

ur about to be mad as hell but LOOOOOKKKKK!!!!

— ORIGINAL MESSAGE —

Congratulations, KOZUME KENMA! Your application has passed the last round of reviewing. You are now officially a contestant for this year’s season of Idol Camp JP! We are looking forward to having you.

Filming starts on January 20 of the current year. To finalize the application process, please visit our offices before the 15th of this month within business hours (…)

Kind regards,

The team of Idol Camp JP.

for the sake of being totally transparent, let’s clear one thing up right here and now: kenma never submitted that application.

kuroo did on his behalf as a complete and utter intrusion to kenma’s autonomy, where the justification of such a vile action was, in his own words, something as senseless as: “you’re crazy talented, kenma. i know you’re pretty shy, but you can’t gatekeep that from the whole world forever! besides, even just being there will be good for you. a learning experience, and whatever. you know what they say! the journey is as important as the destination, and all that.” that old saying has about as little correlation to the problem at hand as apples do to trains, and this is the part where kenma taps his phone screen with purpose to end the phone call without even bothering to gratify kuroo’s speech with a response.

on kenma’s behalf, kuroo can go to hell.

kozume kenma’s set on enjoying his breakfast, a plate of soft-boiled eggs accompanied by pickled plum and a cup of steaming hot green tea, only to then climb back in bed and, upon waking back up again, realizing the entire day thus far has merely been a nightmare with just about enough realism sprinkled in to scare him shitless. he’d text kuroo afterwards, some lazy approach to pettiness such as “you pissed me off in my dream, so i’m not going to practice this week,” or perhaps even a “when i see you next, remind me to punch you btw” if kozume’s feeling particularly feisty. if he’s lucky, he’ll get another good two or three hours of sleep…

we should keep the following in mind, however: kozume kenma is not a lucky person.

would not know the definition of the word ‘luck’ if it hit him like an uncoordinated forearm to the face or a heel with a particularly thick soled shoe digging into his metatarsals, in fact, which both had very much happened just the day prior. this is exactly why kuroo beats him to the punch, then, kenma’s smartphone all but burning a hole into his pocket with the quick succession of dings! and the nonstop vibrations all throughout the remainder of his cup of tea.

it’s not until he’s wrapped up doing the dishes that he finally sits down and checks his messages, giving the poor phone a borderline accusatory glance as though it’s the innocent electronic’s fault that kenma’s just this fucking hapless.

KURO: itll be just fine!! im gonna be there too yknow~

KURO: so ill have your back all the time! were gonna always be in teams together

KURO: ill make sure of it, so trust me!

resourceful, the word echoes in his head, the space of his cranium reverberating with the sound. if there’s one good thing about kuroo, it has to be that he always keeps his promises.

ME: ok

ME: u already signed me up anyway so

ME: might as well ig

KURO: great!! i knew youd want to give it a try kenma

KURO: im so proud of you

KURO: let’s get some extra practice in from now until the 20th, okay???

KURO: some of my friends will be there too and i don’t wanna let them win

ME: what friends…

briefly, kenma considers blocking kuroo’s number before the other gets to answer his question, far too scared of what the reply may be.

and then, he actually does it.

****

   EPISODE ONE.

enter kuroo tetsurou, the culprit of everything that’s ever gone wrong in kenma’s life.

  [IDOL CAMP JP] ALL 101 CONTESTANTS PROFILES REVEALED!

[+1,277, -243] aw, the kid with the pudding head is kinda cute… he looks like someone threatened him into getting his photo taken and all, but that’s kind of what makes him charming wwww

[+333, -115] what’s with this show? seriously, all these guys look like middle schoolers… TT

kenma stares at the wall ahead of him, crisp ice blue paint marred by an assortment of signatures and goals, realistic and borderline imaginary alike, scribbled with a dissonance of contrasting— not complementary –colored markers. if kenma was just a smidge more easily influenced perhaps their motivation and optimism would rub off on him, but he’s just not that kind of guy… he can be influenced enough to come here in the first place, that’s one thing, but there’s just no way he can be talked into having a good time while at it, not at all, because now that would just be plain ridiculous!

besides, he ponders as he paces across the room following along the length of the wall, most if not all of these are pretty basic phrases… it’s “let’s make our dreams come true!” on top of “do your best!” with a thick layer of “good luck!” laid across it all, and as narrow golden eyes give the glorified graffiti a once over the only thing of interest they can find is a particular name kanji, one they pause to wonder on its meaning for a second or two to promptly disregard the thought just about as quickly as it had come. generalized positivity seems like little more than the most superficial kind of wishful thinking, and while kenma would rather put his faith onto something more solid like his own skills (or alternatively, wish upon the downfall of the other contestants), he reasons everyone has their own ways of coping with the discomfort of being in this strange, new environment.

as for kenma himself… well, he’s still looking for it! now accepting suggestions, just text +81-xxx-xxx…

next to him, kuroo pretty much bounces in place. you’d think with such a tall frame he’d have enough place to store all that energy and then some, but unfortunately for kenma, kuroo’s a freak of nature who must be of an entirely different species from homo sapiens sapiens. “liven up a little, kenma. we’re already here, right? might as well enjoy it now!” the look kenma shoots him then is a cross between a threat of violence and intent to study him under a microscope with a 100x lens (and he can almost imagine the little spiky-haired cells he’d get out of it, too, the shameless microbes laughing at him as they swim in an ocean of methylene blue).

arms folded tightly across the taller’s wide chest betray near to nothing as he scans the aforementioned wall of dreams, but kenma knows better; it’s all hidden within high cheekbones and poorly-concealed dark undereyes adorned with bags from a bad night’s sleep, presumably from being unable to keep the excitement of what was to come the following day from letting his imagination run wild.

now, as his friend looks down at him after noticing his stare, his gaze is curious—it’s a silent question kenma isn’t sure how to answer, so in its place he only shakes his head in response. albeit lazy the movement is enough to have his hair, bleached blonde and reaching the halfway point between his chin and his shoulders, bob along with the motion. “you want me to liven up when i have to live with a hundred people in a high-stress environment.” the words are spoken flatly, oddly reminiscent of a soft drink that’s been opened and left out in the sun for a long, long time. during the summer. and if he’s being honest, that just about encapsulates how kenma feels at the thought of this being his life for the next couple months… or just a few weeks, hopefully!

kuroo just smiles down at him, all perfectly straight teeth and a promise of sincerity shoved somewhere between his central incisors. “a hundred people’s nothing you can’t handle, kenma. there’s three times that, easy, at every dance competition we’ve been to!” that does little to alleviate kenma’s anxiety, but at least he’s trying… or so kenma figures, at least.

kenma merely blinks in response, long and slow, much like a cat particularly looking forward to nap time would.

behind them, a boy who is more lanky than he is boy trots up with beads of sweat gathering up by his brow. “i’m sorry, i’m late!” he calls as kenma looks him up and down, flashy outfit blinding his eyes for a moment. the scarlet sequins don’t fit the rest of the newcomer’s colorimetry, all gray hair and pale skin with teal eyes to boot, but kenma doesn’t say that part out loud.

actually, he says nothing at all. he doesn’t have to, because this guy just starts spouting off random information like nobody’s business. and it is, in fact, not any of kenma’s business. “my name is haiba lev, it’s so nice to meet you!” he bows, a movement so clumsy he nearly collides with kuroo’s torso in the process. “i’m, like, soooo happy to be here. like, you don’t even know! my family’s already telling the whole town to vote for me, and…”

if this guy keeps talking, kenma’s brain isn’t there to hear it. it escaped through his ears a sentence or two ago, swearing it’d just take a short and well-deserved vacation for only a second…

“kozume, kuroo, haiba. all ready? you guys are up next.” the sound that booms over the loudspeakers by the ceiling leans more towards crackled static rather than a voice, enough so that kenma wouldn’t be sure of what he just heard if it weren’t for the weight of kuroo’s hand on his shoulder as an unspoken nudge of encouragement.

well, that was one short second.

it’s not until now that reality truly sets in. as anxiety infiltrates his bones kuroo’s hand only begins to feel all that much heavier, presumably due to his skeleton slowly degrading as stress chips away at every millimeter of its surface, from his phalanges to his frontal bone. “kenma?” even though he hears kuroo’s voice loud and clear, kenma chooses to ignore him in favor of pondering what his death certificate will be like. if nothing else, this shit’s gonna be a real funny cause of death! see, it’ll look a little bit like this:

NAME: KOZUME KENMA

AGE: 17

CAUSE OF DEATH: HIS BONES ERODED SO BADLY DUE TO STRESS HIS SKELETON BECAME KINDA SQUISHY AND COLLAPSED DUE TO THE WEIGHT OF THE REST OF HIS BODY. A TOTAL FUCKING LOSER, IF YOU ASK ME!

“if the kid won’t go out, you two are gonna have to go ahead without him.” now, this voice is one kenma doesn’t recognize. “not the producers will be happy about it, though. didn’t you sign a long-ass contract? i didn’t get to read all of it, but some parts of it were stone cold, man!” what is familiar to him, however, is the weight on his other shoulder— god, does kuroo want to speedrun kenma’s fall, or something? since when are hands this heavy…?

a blink, long and slow once more.

and then another one, as if just for good measure, as he tries to get himself into a headspace fit for survival. well, he’s already here. that much is an unavoidable truth he can do nothing about now that he’s already signed his soul away to the evil machine that is this god damn broadcasting corporation, other than go out there and do so fucking badly he’s expelled on sight.

ACTUALLY… THAT DOESN’T SOUND HALF BAD!

fueled by a newfound resolve kenma brushes his hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears. his forearm is held out in front of him and he taps it with the opposite fist, as though trying to ensure he hasn’t effectively turned to jelly just in case.

which, truth be told, wouldn’t be all that horrible. at least then that’d get him out of this one…

and because this is real life his bones are still made of, unfortunately, bone. “ummm, sorry… i spaced out,” briefly, kenma thinks he sees concern flash across kuroo’s features. but he’s still trying to focus his gaze back on the world surrounding him in the first place, and so he doesn’t pay it much mind.

the first thing he notices after exiting the narrow hallway all three were led through, the other guy ranting and raving about whatever inane thing his mind has decided to zone in on for that specific fraction of a second, are the bright stage lights overhead. the second thing kenma sees are a hundred (and one!) chairs arranged neatly in a pyramid shape, with each step containing less and less steps. little more than half of them are already occupied by boys happily chattering away, the ones presumably guilty of defacing the poor wall he’d seen earlier, and kenma shortly entertains the thought of wanting to know whoever this nishinoya guy is because really, if a person’s handwriting is that horrendous they’re certain to be quite the character.

…

on second thought, he doesn’t want to know him.

kenma doesn’t have to think twice about it before beelining in the direction of the very last seat, made of a clear material and accented with a 101 in glittery silver numbers, kuroo’s protests of at least going for seat 50 falling upon ears that aren’t deaf—they’re simply selectively closed for the time being.

if one thing is certain, it’s that murphy’s law never fails. so, let’s see how this goes.

[genderisareligion]

“aun cuando en este momento existen suficientes datos para saber que el sexo también es una construcción y que trasciende el binario macho-hembra”

even though at the moment there is enough data to know that sex is also a construct and that it transcends the male-female binary

A relatively well known feminist in my area, a professor who teaches feminist theory at one of our best universities, said this. This woman is very anti terf or whatever, but usually I hear this kind of argument from people with the most insane takes so I was surprised hearing it from her. She didn’t cite any of the “data” and I know this is a tired argument, but where did these people even get the idea that sex is a construct to begin with? Like what is the data? I want to see it, genuinely, I want to read where it says that sex is a construct that transcends the male-female binary and why that is so. Is it in reference to intersex conditions? Because people have recognized intersex conditions for a long time and nobody was saying that sex is a construct before. And in any case, if it is in reference to intersex conditions, wouldn’t a statement like that only apply to intersex people instead of it being a testament to the legitimacy of trans identity (which is how I’ve seen it most commonly used)? Or is it something else? I’m asking for real lol I don’t know much about the trans stuff and I want to know where they’re getting the information.

Also, completely unrelated, but I know you’ve said you’re Latina. Which country? Lmao I hope this does not come across as creepy, you do NOT have to answer me if you don’t want to lol. I just like to keep track of all the Latina women I follow.

Man I miss @not-your-intersex-pawn. Used to immediately refer people to/defer to her blog since it's always better to hear this directly from one of them. But you're onto something with "wouldn't a statement like that only apply to intersex people?" "TERFs conflate sex and gender they can't tell the difference sex and gender are different!" but constantly TRAs tell everyone of the likelihood of intersex conditions in the population to legitimize their likely non intersex related gender identity. Who's conflating what now? Lol. not-your-intersex-pawn and her orbiters constantly complain(ed) about and sometimes (even though they didn't deserve it) tried to politely explain to dyadic trans people why pretending intersexism has anything to do with you when it doesn't and LARPing as a community member because "I'Ve NeVeR hAd My ChRoMoSoMeS lOoKeD aT yOu NeVeR kNoW" is disrespectful.

Found this piece the day I found her blog many years ago. Glad Medium hasn't given it the axe yet

I also defer to some of the intersex organizations she recommended since despite what devout genderists would have you believe they're divided on what constitutes an intersex condition and their criticism of gender since minority groups are not monoliths.

Main thing I wanna impress after years of reading her blog is that some intersex people find it offensive for you to call them a "third" or "other" or "nonbinary" category and would like everyone to still refer to them as male or female with a sex specific intersex condition. I tag posts I find/have of hers now she may have mentioned it in there

"Sex is a social construct" lol when will any of these genderists actually tell me who managed to invent that? Seriously. What white colonizer somewhere managed to change the construction of virtually every single member of the species across the globe so that 99% of us are sexually dimorphic? Wild as fuck that this is being preached in academia.

As far as where they're getting their information, usually a game of social media telephone and only reading interpretations of the data that line up with their religious beliefs because "intersex people can be TERFs too!"

I'm Mexican 🇲🇽 But currently stuck in USAmerica lol. As I've mentioned my Spanish is garbage because I'm from like a "white washed" family (don't love that terminology but like we were Bush conservatives and lived in a mostly white community). When my Spanish is better I plan on crossing "the border" (the one they stole lol)

[x-reader-writer]

Hii can I request for Peter parker x male reader.

The reader is taller than him, dominant and has piercings, and peter comes out to the avengers as bi and tells them that he has a boyfriend. They're sceptical first but then they see peter sitting on readers lap and them being affectionate and sweet and laughing at jokes they make.

If this contains anything that makes you uncomfortable pls ignore this.

Thank uuu.

A/N: Hi!! Of course you can. I don't do nsfw posts, but I can make the reader seem more confident to fill that gap!

Sorry it's taken so long!! I hope this is alright!

I'm coming out

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male! Reader

~~~~~

"Baby, it's gonna be okay."

"But what if it's not! What if they yell, or they hate me, or Mr. Stark wants to never see me again, or-"

You quickly grab your boyfriend's hands to stop him from talking. "Babe, none of that will happen," you say calmly, with a gentle tone. "Do you know why? It's because they're decent people who adore you, Pete, just like I do."

"You think so?" Peter asks nervously, blushing from the compliment from his partner.

"I know so," you reply, a gentle smile gracing your face.

~~~~~

Peter was stood in the elevator, his foot anxiously tapping on the slightly metallic flooring. He lets out a long, deep breath, trying to control his anxiety.

The doors then open, on the penthouse of the Avengers Tower (formerly Stark Tower). Peter steps out and looks around the common room.

All of the Avengers were sat on the sofas and little chairs, lounging around and watching a Disney movie. Peter was amused slightly as he saw that Bucky was sat on Sam's lap as a joke (Peter could tell he just wanted to sit there-).

Peter then quietly clears his throat. It wasn't the best idea, as the movie was playing quite loudly, so nobody could hear him. He takes a deep breath and then loudly cough.

Everyone in the room jumps, even causing Tony to make his popcorn go flying. Everyone looks over at the teen, who nervously rubs his arm.

"Oh hey, Pete," Tony says, picking up a handful of his popcorn that had landed on his lap. "What're you doing here? It's not Friday yet."

"Sorry about scaring you all," Peter says quickly. He then replies to his mentor saying, "Yeah, sorry about coming earlier than expected Mr. Stark, but I wanted to talk to you. To you all."

"What is it, son?" Steve asks, smiling gently at the teen (no, Peter isn't actually his son, Steve's just old). Peter stays looking awkward and nervous, so he encourages, "It's okay, we're here for whatever it is, Peter."

"I'm bisexual," Peter blurts out. The room goes silent. He then quietly mumbles, "And I have a boyfriend."

Peter grips at his arm tightly waiting for some type of reaction, the silence dragging on.

"No," is the first thing said after minutes of silence. Unsurprisingly, it was Steve who had said this. Peter had kind of expected him and Bucky to react slightly badly towards this as they were from a different time period where they didn't accept gay people.

Peter then feels hope as he sees Tony going to say something. However it is shattered when the words 'I'm sorry Pete, but bisexuality isn't a thing' come out of his mentors mouth.

"What?" Peter whimpers, taking a step back in surprise and hurt.

"Tony, that's a bit harsh," Natasha says, glaring at the man. She then looks at Peter with a straight face and states, "However, that doesn't mean that you are Bisexual. You're just confused and need to find the right girl for you."

Peter shakes his head and turns back around to leave the penthouse, ignoring the calls from the avengers, especially the shouts and demands to come back and to stop being stupid.

~~~~~

Peter was sat in your lap, crying into your shoulder. You were gently shushing him and smoothing his hair, whispering in his ear it was okay.

"I'm really sorry, Petey, I pushed you into this-"

"It's not your fault," Peter replies, sniffling as he wiped his nose.

"And it's not yours either," you reply, gently poking his chest to prove your point. "They were wrong to say that and do that to you, I'm glad I was here waiting for you so you could come to me. Otherwise, I don't know what would have happened."

Peter nods and sniffles, wiping his nose with his hand. You chuckle softly and grab a tissue from your pocket (what? Peter cried a lot, you liked to be prepared!) and hand it to him with a smile. He smiles back at you and blows his nose.

"Better, Dumbo?" You ask, teasing him with the name.

Peter giggles and says, "Better, n/n."

You grin and then say, "uh oh, I see someone coming.." Peter looks at you confused, but you simply raise your hands slowly. Peter pales slightly before squealing and trying to get away from you as you start tickling his sides. He laughs and giggles, kicking and squirming on your lap. "Tickle monster!"

After a few minutes, Peter's sad tears had turned into tears of laughter. So you stopped and smirked at him as he was still laughing and blushing from the tickle 'fight'.

You lean down and kiss his nose, which makes him blush gently. then you start kissing all over his face, making him a blushing mess.

"Ksh, mission complete boys, ksh," you state, pretending you had a Walkie talkie, making Peter giggle at you and move up to cuddle up to you. You grin and gently smooth his back.

"And who are you?" A male voice says, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere between the two.

You look up and glare at the group who had approached you. The Avengers. The ones who hurt your boyfriend.

"What do you want?"

"We heard from security there was a random guy sat here, so we came to see who you were, and then we saw you touching up Peter," Clint says, glaring at you.

"Excuse me?" You state, shocked at what he had said, as you had hardly even touched your boyfriend, only holding his head and hugging him.

"Who. Are. You?" Bucky says, getting angry.

"I'm Y/n L/n, aka, Peter's boyfriend," you growl. You then hold Peter gently as you pull him closer, feeling extra protective over him as everyone starts yelling their complaints and how much they disagreed.

"What on Midgard is going on here?" You hear a booming voice call out.

Both you and Peter look over first. You see that the owner of the voice was Thor Odinson, next to him was stood a very pissed looking Loki.

"I think we both know what is happening here, brother," Loki replies, a muscle in their forehead spasming, almost comically. You would have found it amusing if not for the situation at hand.

Tony replies to Thor's question, ignoring Loki had said anything, "Peter is apparently 'Bisexual' and this random guy is his 'boyfriend'. I'm thinking he's a hydra agents and has brainwashed-"

"Enough!" Thor yells, glaring at Tony and the group. "How dare you make rude comments about these poor boys! Bisexuality is a common thing among Asgardians, Loki himself is one! Bisexuality is common amongst many things, even the animals on your own planet are bisexual, gay or any of the other LGBTQ community! You should not slander such a group, especially as they are such a huge quantity of the population, and not only of this planet or your species!"

The room was silent, even you included.

Loki walks over to Peter and gently pat's his head, their face soft and a gentle smile was placed upon their lips. "You are the Peter child, yes?" The brunette nods at the god, who smiles more in return. "Here is a little secret of my own that I've been keeping from everyone, that I shall share. It will mean that I'm joining you in, as Midgardians say, 'coming out'."

Loki then turns to the group and says, "I have something to say too. I, myself, am genderfluid. And I identify as a female today."

The room is silent again.

"I have a sister!" Thor says excitedly, picking Loki up and twirling her around. Loki smiles, happy Thor had accepted her.

"Woah, that's so cool, Ms. Loki!" Peter squeals, smiling brightly. "Oh wait, do you still want to be called that?"

"Yes, Loki is perfectly fine, child" she replies, smiling back.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ficlet: Because I Fell Too

WARNINGS: References to the Tusken Massacre, unreliable narrator (Anakin)

When he stumbles upon her, it’s a coincidence.

He doesn’t know how much it’s going to change for the universe. He just knows what he sees in front of him.

“Knight Offee?”

Yellow eyes glare back at him, and he can feel the rage and despair now that he knows to look for it.

“General Skywalker,” she grinds out. The bomb in her hands is clear evidence of whatever the hell she’s setting up. “I suppose you’re going to--”

“Sit down,” he says, because his mouth moves faster than his brain. “Just... sit down.”

“Either arrest me or not,” she snaps.

“Let’s go with ‘not,’ for now,” he tells her, and takes a risk. He puts his back to the wall of the little service corridor, and slides to the ground. He rests his elbows on his knees. He waits.

Barriss looks at him with something akin to disgust.

“Ahsoka would be upset if I got you in trouble,” Anakin offers. “I don’t know you that well, but she thinks you’re her friend, so I’m going to run with that until you give me a reason to fight.”

“The bomb isn’t enough?” she sneers.

“What bomb?” Anakin asks, keeping his eyes on her face and away from the very obvious explosive in her hands.

Being nice to her apparently just makes her angrier.

“Sit down,” Anakin says again. “We both know I’d win a fight, and there’s not a whole lot of places to run, here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I use this hall a lot. Trust me, I know it.”

“Sneaking out?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her. “To break the Code, just like all the rest?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“The Jedi have lost their way,” she spits out. “We’ve become tools of violence and destruction instead of peace and care.”

“And going Dark is going to help?” Anakin prods. “It’s not, you know.”

“Once you go dark, you can’t turn back,” Barriss dismisses. “I’m already here. I’ve already Fallen. My rage is plentiful, but at least I can turn it to a cause of worth.”

“And bombing the temple is going to stop the war?” he questions. “Barriss, the Seppies aren’t going to be kinder to the planets they take than the Jedi are. You know they’re softer on slavery than the Republic.”

“I can’t turn back now!”

“You can.”

“I’ve. Fallen,” she hisses out. “It’s too late--”

“It’s not.”

“And how would you know?!” she demands, practically screaming as she steps forward.

“Because I Fell too.”

She stares at him. It’s silent, for a moment, save for the hum of electricity in the background, and the heaving of her breaths.

(He’d looked up the process of Falling, once he’d been knighted and had access. With the war on and Dooku publicly a Sith, nobody really questioned his interest.)

(The initial Fall was always the most emotionally intense, always too much and too new for someone to handle.)

(She’d level out in a few days, whether she returned to the light or not, but for now...)

Barriss puts her back to the wall, a few feet down and on the other side of the hall, and slides to a seat. She keeps staring at him.

“Ahsoka never mentioned that.”

“Ahsoka doesn’t know,” Anakin tells her. “Nobody does, not even Obi-Wan.”

She looks at him, peering, and then says, “your eyes are blue.”

“Yes.”

“You... came back.”

“Yes.”

“What did you do? Why did you Fall?”

He wonders if it will help her to know these things, or if maybe he can just calm her down and tug her back and keep her talking long enough to stopgap whatever plan she’s putting into place.

“What do you know about the Sand Raiders of Tatooine?” he asks her.

She shakes her head, and then tilts it to one side, questioning.

“They’re one of the two native species of Tatooine,” Anakin tells her. “The other is the Jawas. But the Tuskens are... we grow up on stories, there, about how they take people in the night, kill them for fun, how they raid the homesteads and travelers because they think all the water on the planet should belong to them.”

“Sounds like propaganda to me.”

He hesitates, and then shakes his head. He can’t just get angry at her right now. She’ll run, and stay Dark, and then Snips would be upset. “Maybe some of it. But it did happen, once you got past the outskirts of the cities.”

“Okay, so?”

“There was a woman they captured,” Anakin says. “A former slave, middle-aged, who’d married a moisture farmer near one of the smaller towns. I don’t know why they targeted her, but her husband lost a leg trying to save her, and a few more people died. I tracked her down, and found that she’d been tortured nearly to death. She died shortly after I arrived, as I held her. There’d been no cause to it, just... senseless violence.”

She looks at him. Blinks. Her eyes are wide and far too yellow.

“The woman in question was my mother,” Anakin admits. “I broke the Code, and took revenge.”

“You killed the people who tortured her.”

“I killed the entire tribe,” Anakin corrects, voice heavy. He doesn’t let himself think too hard about this. “Including the younglings.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I was,” he agrees, because he can’t let her run, not now. He can’t tell her they were little more than animals, can’t tell her they were all monsters, who deserved to die for what they’d done. “And now I’m fighting to save lives, instead of ending them.”

“Banthashit.”

Anakin doesn’t make the face he wants to make. “This war is... so stupid. I hate it. You hate it. The Council hates it. Almost every Jedi I know hates it, and the ones that don’t are mostly too young to understand what’s going on. We can feel our soldiers die, we get accused of being warmongers, we lose Knights and Generals and Padawans every day. But if we don’t fight it, someone else will.”

“Then someone else should!”

“Someone who treats the clones as disposable, you mean?”

She glares again, eyes a poisonous yellow. “And why should I listen to a murderer of children?”

Anakin purses his lips, and holds his tongue for long enough that he doesn’t spit the first ugly word he thinks of. “Because this monster is still a Jedi despite that. Because I’m telling you that it’s not too late to come back to the Light.”

She hates him, he can tell, and then--

“Fine,” she says. She smiles, simpering and cruel. “I’ll come back and get ‘help’ with this... if you confess to your Fall in front of the Council.”

He stiffens up, and she lifts her chin, and he thinks I can beat her and I could let her go and finds that either he lets her go, and she bombs the Temple... or he takes her in, and she tells them about the Tuskens.

Or he kills her.

Ahsoka’s face, distraught with grief, pops into his head before he can consider it for more than a second.

Barriss gets to her feet, still smirking, and she’s got the bomb in her hands and so many are going to die if he lets her go.

But they’ll kick him out of the Order if he confesses.

They’ll lock him up and he’ll never see Padme again, never see Obi-Wan or Ahsoka or...

“I’ll take my leave,” Barriss says. Those yellow eyes bore into him with smug victory. She turns, and he breaks.

“Fine,” he says, with a voice he barely recognizes as his own, because he’d done something stupid by talking to this girl, and now he’s torn between killing her, getting arrested himself, and letting her kill innocent Jedi.

It’s for Ahsoka, he tells himself. Besides, I’m one of the most effective Generals in the GAR. They can’t just get rid of me.

Barriss stares at him. Again. “What?”

“Fine,” he repeats. “I’ll confess to my Fall if you come clean about yours.”

This is a terrible idea.

He hates everything about it.

But... but something in the Force sings that it’s right.

“Fine,” Barriss says, with an odd, painful expression he can’t quite read. “Then to the Council we go.”

And so they do.

[wannabecoyote]

Sasha woke up, she didn’t remember falling asleep but that’s just every Tuesday for her. Her whole body is sore and lethargic, also a normal Tuesday. What isn’t a normal Tuesday however is WAKING UP IN AN UNFAMILIAR CELL. She very much does not appreciate being imprisoned for god knows whatever reason or at all really. She sat up and tried to practice the breathing exercise she and her friends found.

Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Rinse and repeat.

She swallowed once she feels calm enough and looked around the room. She’s very surprised that she isn’t descending into yet another panic attack but she ain’t gonna question her good luck now.

She felt for her phone and breathed out a sigh of relief when she found it is still in her pocket. With trembling hands she typed a message to her friend.

‘dude I could be dying rn. im pretty sure I was kidnapped. no cap. idk where I am. keep my witch stuff.’

She took a picture of the cell and sent it to Dylan.

She pocketed her phone with another inhale to fortify herself. She looked around and found her cell sealed with a laser beam thing. Like a sheet of light keeping her in. Like some real Steven Universe shit.

She walked up to it and tried to touch it. She pulled her hand back with a curse when she was zapped unceremoniously by the rude laser. She started flicking her hand trying and failing to shake the pain off.

She put her singed finger in her mouth and looked around for something that could help her. To the opposite of the laser gate was her cot, a raised platform that comes up to her thighs and padded with cushion. To the right hand side was a sink with running water and a glass near it. She assumed that was for her to drink. All she found that are detachable from their posts are pillows, the glass, and blankets. She walked over and snatched the pillow from the cot to test it against the laser.

She held the pillow forward and slowly touched the other side to the laser. She was startled from this when a something moved in the hallway. She threw the pillow away and focused on the figure that slithering closer to her cell by the minute.

She pulled a face of disgust when a weird hybrid of gorgons, aliens from the movie Aliens, and freaking predators came in front of her. It was very disconcerting.

“Human, you are before your queen, bow.” The talking monstrosity said.

The audacity!

“I’m sorry but you ain’t my queen. My queen is Sappho and you don’t look anything like her,” she said and the guards beside the queen gasped.

The queen’s face distorted in anger. Sasha’s face showed her disgust at how uglier the queen became.

“Eugh, dude seriously ngl you look like someone punched your mother’s stomach when she was carrying you and then when she gave birth to you she somehow dropped you multiple times because she always gets surprised by how ugly you are,” she said with a shrug. If she was gonna die, she’s gonna make the most of what she has right now.

The guy on the left let out a noise that sounded a lot like a laugh. Sasha smiled proudly and gave the alien a wink. It feels good to know someone appreciates your humor. They stepped back a bit, spooked. The queen’s face becomes more distorted but this time she was looking at the alien that laughed.

“You find this amusing? You are nothing but dust in the cosmos. You are nothing. Remember your place [species slur]!” she shouted at them. The poor guy bowed their head and uttered a silent acquiescence.

“HEY DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO THEM YOU NIGHTMARE IN ELMS STREET LOOKING ASS!” Sasha shouted. NOBODY, FUCKING NOBODY FUCKS WITH THE ALIEN GUY. HE IS B A B Y.

Both aliens looked at her, one with a look of horrified admiration, and the other with pure contempt in her eyes. Nine of them. Creepy. Why’s it gotta be a fucking odd? Why fucking nine? It’s fucking gross. Eugh.

She was startled out of her disgust for the nine eyes by the sound of someone pressing in the code for her cell…presumably. The laser wall disappeared and the queen loomed ominously over her. She bolted as soon as she can. Narrowly dodging the disgusting snake alien thing that tried to strike her. She took the alien’s appendage and ran. Dragging them along with her to wherever the fuck.

“Why are you doing this human? I am not an ideal hostage, no one cares about me,” the alien said. Sasha’s heart broke with the way that they said it. As if it was something factual. No one should be made to feel like that. If she was gonna escape she’s gonna take this bean with her.

“You are not a hostage,” she said. Behind them the queen is screaming profanities at everyone and the soldiers are gaining on them. “You’re a friend, I can see that you hate it here. You’re as much of a prisoner as I am. We’re gonna get out of here, yeah?” she looked back and her alien friend nodded with a look of disbelief on their face.

“Why?”

“Because they don’t treat you right.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you, besides, I will slow you down.”

“Of course it does! I made you laugh, you’re my friend now.”

“What exactly is a friend? You’ve mentioned it twice now.”

“You don’t know what friends are?!”

“I do not. I am sorry,”

“No! Don’t be! I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She sighed, this is difficult. “A friend is someone that you like, someone you spend your time with. Someone that you can rely on. Someone who can rely on you.”

“…and I am your friend? How?”

“Like I said, you laughed at my joke.”

“That sounds superficial, especially compared to what you mentioned friendship entailed.”

“It doesn’t have to be really deep, does it? I like you because I do. Do you not want to be my friend?”

“It is not that I do not, it is that I do not understand why you would want to be mine.”

“I just do okay? You’re a great dude.”

She looked at the soldiers chasing after them.

“How many?” she asked the confused alien. “Few. There aren’t much.” She nodded and asked where they are as they ran for their lives. They yelled out directions and she followed as best as she could.

She ran faster than she ever has in her life. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her alien friend tried but they couldn’t keep up with her. They lagged behind but she wouldn’t leave them. She couldn’t.

They reminded her too much of herself.

So she stood. In front of him. Shielding him from the soldiers that had caught up with them. Her friend told her to run. To leave them. To save herself. She didn’t.

The first soldier engaged her and she punched him. Remembering all those self-defense lessons from tiktok. They were bipedal and has almost the same structure as humans so she assumed they have similar anatomy. Her assumption proved true when the alien she punched in the throat gasped and flailed for air. Her confidence renewed she jumped to the next alien. She tore through them, using everything she has on her arsenal. Her hands, fingers, nails, feet, her teeth, and everything else that she has.

They were fragile. They were easy to destroy. She has cuts all over her body but she cannot feel pain right now. Her friend is looking around at the carnage she has brought with fear in their eyes.  All the fight left her body when they looked at her with fear. She moved forward to reassure them that everything was going to be okay but the queen arrived.

She was holding a gun of a sort and she was pointing it at Sasha. She ran straight for the queen, her teeth barred, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The queen expecting her to run was thrown off guard when she slammed against her. Sasha rained punches on her captor. Blindly smashing and hitting. The sound of pounding of flesh and bones crunching filled the air. She did not stop until two arms wrapped around her and restrained her.

“…okay, it’s gonna be okay. It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re safe.” It was a familiar voice. She didn’t know whose voice. She can feel the strength leaving her body. She hasn’t slept in two days.

“Alien… friend… safe..?” she asked, slowly losing her consciousness.

“Yes, your alien fiend is safe.” He sounds like he’s smiling.

[thedogwhoisachair]

Tell me about the they [Liz]

Alright so!!!

This au starts off as a normal post theatrical au for me, ya know Mushnik comes out the smoke "omg omg omg omg seymour wtf was that oh you have a wife now? That's cool i think. Maybe. Anyways let's rebuild this motherfucking shop"

Then, ya know, end of the film there's that tiny plant, presumably one of Twoey's pods that followed them to their new home. But you see, in this the pod is basically still some baby. Their species can have many differences between themselves, including what they look like, and how they were created. But like, Twoey hadn't any time to think about that, so the plant is a blank slate. Spends their time trying to take on a new form, based on the ones surrounding them. Which can change.

Seymour's out in their garden, getting better at being around plants again, when he hears a vague crying. Like some sort of baby. It sounds close.

He looks around, and, eventually sees them. A pod. One of Twoey's. Alone. Seemed to have followed them, who knows how it survived. Its alone.

Seymour picks it up and takes it inside.

Walks to the living room n alerts Audrey of his presence. Then shows her the kid.

Audrey takes the baby from him, Seymour looks like he's about to cry himself. She holds this kid, just. Some toddler-like being, without any family. Without anything. It's probably been there for a while, surviving on the things around it.

If they don't take the kid as their own, nobody else will. And they'd been thinking about having children recently anyways.

So that's what they did.

Liz develops a more human body (though still one of the species, ya know? Yall have seen the design) n gets to exist.

They even get to go to school, which does kind of suck.

After no luck of getting in place anything for Lizzie in primary/elementary school, Seymour n Audrey just homeschool the kid. Sometimes when they're busy Liz stays round Mushnik's n the new and improved florists n yeah!!

Though, uh. Mushnik wasn't told that the kid was one of Twoey's, so he was in for a surprise. Still weirdly great with the kid tho, they tend to make photo albums together which Liz sometimes takes home n continues with Seymour.

Eventually, they try again with school as primary would've ended for them n they'd go on to whatever the school after that is for you (for me it's secondary so ill just call it that)

And this time, Lizzie gets a friend!!!! I haven't thought of a name yet i don't think (though maybe i have but can't remember idk) but they became besties with liz!!!

The friend happens to have a special interest in space n also comes from Skid Row lol, which means they own a lot of magazines from when Twoey was around.

Though at first they don't make the connection of liz and twoey, until they have an at first completely unrelated question.

"You know what, I don't even know your last name. What- what is it?"

"oh, I have two- Fulquard-Krelborn."

"Krelborn?? Like Seymour Krelborn??"

"Yeah, do you know my dad or something-?"

"I'M HIS BIGGEST FAN"

So Liz goes back home that day confused as all fuck. Was their dad a celebrity or something??? How did they not know that???

Seymour n Audrey swore to never talk about the twoey incident in front of the kids (thank you pearl for that idea) so when Liz asks how the hell their friend can be a fan of Seymour, they're met with Seymour physically wincing and Audrey staring at Liz, wide-eyed.

Let's just say that it was an awkward conversation, to say the least.

The friend starts to sometimes come round their house, which the first time is met with a very excited squeal after seeing Seymour, even if he is curled up in a ball eating a trifle and wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by pillow pets.

Liz just watches this whole thing, before their friend turns to them and says "Wait... Are you like. One of the Audrey's II's kids?"

So poor Lizzie has to awkwardly explain that while Seymour is physically wincing again while still eating that trifle.

So Lizzie gets to do all that, livin life. Being fucken cool. Moral of the story adopt a dead alien plant that tried to eat your dad's kid!