#it's all described in scientific detail

[getvalentined]

I've never done a full breakdown of everything that happened to my version of Vincent while he was under the knife (although there is a partial breakdown from like 12 years ago on Ask Vincent Valentine), but @spinejackel tagged my recent Vincent doodle gushing about autopsy scar (Vincent Has a Y-Incision headcanon supremacy!) so I figured it was probably a good time. This is also probably the best method, since I can apply the right tags and trigger warnings to hopefully keep it from hitting the people who would be disturbed.

For anyone who doesn't know, figuring out the fucked up physiology of victims of science is like my entire jam. I think this is what happens when you let a chronically ill child watch Akira and the original Bubblegum Crisis OVA and most of the works of Masamune Shirow. All that before FF7 even existed. This means that the explanation under the cut may seem excessive, and this post is very long. I've been building it over over a quarter century, I don't think there's any avoiding it at this point.

Warnings for body horror, nonconsensual body modification, medical horror and torture. Basically, if there's anything you can think of related to becoming a victim of science under the rule of an unethical sci-fantasy oligarchy, it's probably in here to some degree. It's explained plainly and simply, in clinical but not visceral detail.

My headcanons for what Hojo did to Vincent are pretty specific, albeit not precisely comprehensive; 27 years later I still don't really have a particularly solid concept for how he turned Vincent into a shapeshifter, although at least we know it's not something entirely specific to Vincent—Hojo repeated that facet of the experiment in Azul, but not in any other SOLDIER operative even in DeepGround, implying that it's only possible if very specific physiological conditions are met. The minimal concept I do have involves a twisted application of the concept of incarnate summoning as it appears in FFXIII-2, but it's very vague and also not the topic of this post. Maybe later.

Regarding the Y-incision/autopsy scar, my headcanon is that once Hojo tweaked Vincent into being able to regenerate from any injury—an enhancement that is confirmed to be entirely Hojo's work in Dirge—the professor of course felt it necessary to run various tests quantify the usefulness of his handiwork. He did this first by inflicting various surface injuries, then by causing more extreme bodily trauma, which eventually culminated in Hojo removing the majority of Vincent's internal organs in order to measure how long it took them to grow back and, assuming they did grow back, how the new ones compared to Vincent's original parts.

To be able to observe this as closely as possible, Hojo kept Vincent's torso open for the entire process—which he repeated twice more in order to check the weight, size and structure of the newly-grown organs in comparison to the originals. This study proved that most of them did grow back, but the majority of them stopped developing much earlier than was appropriate for Vincent's age and size. The difference was consistent, Hojo just never figured out why most of them grew back smaller and less-developed.

The reason this happened is based the fact that most of the organs in the human trunk are used in digestion and other related processes, and Vincent's regeneration means he doesn't need to eat or drink anymore. His body only expended as much energy as was completely necessary to develop those organs to the point of being functional rather than normal, because they're not really necessary. Vincent is glad he still has them, though, because he does still occasionally eat (usually in social situations) and also he'd be really sad if he couldn't even have coffee.

Vincent's brain activity remained normal during the entire process, although that may have something to do with Hojo driving a bunch of fluid lines into his head and flooding the inside of his skull with mako to keep him awake the whole time even while deprived of oxygen. (Rebirth spoilers, but seeing the bit in the Nibelheim Protorelic questline where Hojo does something super similar to this, after this has been my headcanon for decades, was a trip.)

Two organs didn't grow back at all: Vincent's appendix and one kidney. This was also the result of efficient energy expenditure, as the human appendix isn't necessary for survival, and only one kidney is really required. (Each time Hojo removed the new kidney, the one that grew back would be on the opposite side, which bothered Hojo to no end.)

His lungs grew back a little larger, possibly because his skeletal structure never quite recovered after his first transformation into Galian—his arms and legs are noticeably too long for his body, although not to the point of looking impossible, and likewise his ribcage settled to breadth that would allow for larger lungs. He doesn't really need these anymore either, related to his brain being exposed to so much mako during the process that it can now operate without oxygen if necessary, but switching himself over from aerobic to anaerobic respiration is really unpleasant and Vincent tries to avoid it when he can.

His heart was pretty normal by the time Hojo was done with him, although his heartrate had dropped to like 20bpm even when elevated. Again, if respiration isn't necessary, there's not much reason for the system to be active. (By the time Lucrecia was done this had dropped to around 5bpm on average, although it's completely arrhythmic and jumps all over the place when he's not either particularly active or on the verge of a transformation.)

This was the experiment that left Vincent susceptible to degradation, which Hojo didn't realize until after finally closing him back up. Upon realizing that Vincent's body wasn't responding properly to a different test (a repetition of an earlier experiment related to the regeneration of external tissues and features), Hojo just kinda threw him in a tube to be disposed of at a later date, kinda like that scene in Arrested Development where there's that dead dove in a bag in the fridge. The incision healed at some point during the period that Lucrecia was working on him, but early enough in her work that the tissue couldn't flawlessly regenerate (like it does in the present), leaving him with one more gnarly scar on top of all the rest.

Vincent is self-conscious about all the physiological changes brought on by what was done to him, often to the point of loathing. His left arm is the worst—it rotted off while he was in the throes of degradation and grew back as something that he hesitates to call his arm—but Vincent hates that Y-incision scar almost as much. Some days they tie.

(It has come up in appropriately horrified conversation with Shalua that, considering how his regeneration works, Vincent could probably get rid of all the scars on his chest if he somehow peeled the skin off his torso in a single swath. He will not be doing that. Besides, it might grow back the wrong color/texture/etc, like his left arm. Not worth the risk, much less the suffering.)

Also I gotta finish off this entry with the extremely stupid headcanon reveal that Vincent's (honestly fairly impressive) dick was cut off during the first round of bodily trauma regeneration tests—and Hojo has never felt the sort of rage he experienced upon discovering that it grew back bigger than before. This occurred early enough in the experiments that Vincent was not awake for it, and thus has no idea how the fuck this happened, and does not want to talk about it ever thank you very much. I've never mentioned it in public anywhere because it is extremely stupid, but I hope someone out there finds it as funny a concept as I do.

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[jessamine-rose]

*squeezes aine this time*

Read my Yandere! Dottore fics first (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

Chemistry ๑ Magnum Opus

So @ainescribe decided to surprise me with more Darling fan art, this time of Dottore’s Assistant!! *sobs* I love it so much ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Once again, feedback will be in the tags. Thank you so much for enjoying my writing, Aine <3

[roadkilledretard]

so funny to me that the Js are the ones with glasses when their eye colors can be explained by just. typical genetics but the only explanation for rose, dave, or roxys eyecolor (afaik) is a type of albinism which is commonly comorbid with poor vision, so they need glasses too

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 3!!!

Now that Leo and Raph are done, it's Donnie's turn for character analysis as a writing reference. So without further ado,

Donnie Character Notes

Language Habits:

Straight up talks like a redditor who hasn't touched enough grass (affectionate)

Oscillates between very scientific paper polished, sometimes adding a dazzle of shakespearean for dramatics, or abbreviations/a shorter version of a word with a more fun connotation (i.e. "brekkie" instead of breakfast)

Uses food as surprised exclamations or curses, "oh my peaches and cream", "banana pancakes!"

Emphasizes each syllable of a long word when he's excited or trying to make a point. Conquered becomes con-qu-ered

Either exaggerates his speech or speaks in deadpan

The science terms he uses as battle cries aren't chosen at random, but rather are related to the action/subject at hand, i.e. yelling "fibonacci" when throwing his spinning tech-bo

Will overly describe an item or a situation, and often gets caught up in these observations before processing what just happened

Will repeatedly yell "help!" when he's distressed and/or outnumbered

Refers to Mikey as "Michael"

Refers to his brothers as "brethren" or "gentlemen"

Refers to splinter as either "father", "papa", or "dad" depending on the weight of the situation

Refers to his tech as his "babies"

Answers the phone with, "You're conversing with Donatello"

Uses "gesundheit" instead of bless you

Personality:

The fixer, he supplies the family with tech and resources. He always has a trinket made for the situation at hand and/or offers his knowledge/data collected. He's always prepared to help. Even with outside resources, he likes to feel useful in solving their problems (i.e., building Todd that dog park)

The theater kid, in a similar vein to leo, Donnie has his own style of dramatics. He often uses shakespeare-like language, is mentioned to regularly recite the jupiter jim musical soundtrack, and has a music mode for his battle shell. He belongs on a stage, or at least thinks he does

Not good at lying, despite the glamour he can put on in the spotlight. This may be due to the side of himself that over explains his thoughts

An over-thinker, who really tends to over-complicate things. His first theory or idea will always be the most extreme buck-wild concept. After some filtering, he still word vomits

A dreamer/big idea guy. He does have big ideas and goals. A lot of these he's able to put into place, although some go a little haywire (see Albearto). He doesn't do things in halves, and puts everything into a project

Meticulous, someone who's very detail oriented. As mentioned before he tends to over-complicates things. This may be impacted by his love for data and collecting information (he does record Everything for a reason)

Always on the edge of violence, which is surprising. Donnie's not known as being the angry archetype of tmnt, but he can get a little violent in his fighting style and does often cite his desire to use lethal force

Low empathy, which is mainly due to his issues processing and recognizing emotions. He's been pegged as unemotional, but in canon he's rather emotional and expressionate, just lacking the skills to process such emotion (he's just like me fr)

Praise motivated, as seen with his interactions with Splinter. Also desires the praise of his brothers, who he doesn't feel understand him with all the teasing that's sent towards his direction. This also pushes him to seek validation and acceptance in other groups (i.e. the purple dragons), to feel a sense of security or belonging

Ignores his own mistakes, and will often pretend like they didn't exist or ever happen. This most likely has to do with his desire for praise, so he feels bad when he fails. If he never made a mistake, he never has to feel bad

Miscellaneous:

Fourth to unlock mystic powers

Uses "Bootyyyshaker9000" as most of his usernames and passwords, with his alt. username being "Alpha-Bootyyyshaker9000"

Has a fear of bees, spiders, and of course beach balls

Breaks the fourth wall the most

Loves the smell of pineapple, hates the texture

Has a hobby of rooting around in the junkyard and dumpster diving

Uses cheat codes in video games

Mikey's next of course :)

[tmntheadcanons]

tmnt 2003 headcanons: Horror Movies

Mikey:

Absolute scream queen

He's so dramatic. He's covering his eyes, screaming and hiding over a movie he's seen probably 15 times.

He'll be cowering one minute and then the next he's info dumping about the lore.

But Mikey LOVES horror movies the cheesier the better.

and he doesn't just watch the movie he knows all the facts about the lore, the actors and the production and he will talk your ear off throughout the whole movie.

Raph:

Raph gets too invested and starts yelling at the tv.

You know those videos of dogs barking at horror movies? That's him.

He'll yell at the protagonist and then 10 seconds later he'll act all cool and start insisting that he'd be able to take down the ghost/serial killer.

He will describe in detail how he would mma-style wreck that guy and escape the creepy cabin completely unscathed.

He's out loud re-writing the story where he's the main character.

Donnie:

Donnie ruins the movie because something scientifically inaccurate will happen and he'll be like "Wrong."

He cannot suspend his disbelief for even one second.

He'll predict what's going to happen in the movie but his predictions are always way more horrific than what actually happens and everyone is like "How did you even think of that what's wrong with you?"

Donnie will watch whatever you put on the tv but horror movies aren't his favorite because he thinks they're usually pretty bad.

Leo:

The fun of horror movies for him isn't even the movie it's his brothers reactions.

Leo himself is completely stone faced.

Leo getting all comfy cozy with a blanket and a cup of tea to watch the most gory movie they own.

One time during a tense scene something just possessed Leo and he HAD to jump scare Raph. It was like he was taken over by his older brother instinct. And he got Raph so bad because he was NOT expecting Leo to do that. It's one of his fondest memories.

[theplotmage]

Hi, I was wondering if you could so some sort of rule set for time travel? I'm finding it hard to describe, and what rules there are on the subject.

Thanks!

Hello, I'm also writing a time traveling sci-fi fiction with a fantasy blend to it and here are some things that I find that could help us out!

Rule Set for Creating Believable Time-Traveling Fiction

1. Time Travel Mechanics

Mechanism Description

- Clearly explain how time travel works in your story. Is it a machine, a natural phenomenon, a magical object, or an innate ability?

Scientific Basis

- Incorporate real scientific theories, such as Einstein’s theory of relativity, wormholes, or quantum mechanics, to ground your story in plausible science.

Limitations and Costs

- Define the limitations of time travel, such as distance in time, frequency, energy requirements, or physical toll on the traveler.

2. World-Building

Historical Accuracy

- Research and accurately depict the time periods your characters travel to. Include cultural norms, language, technology, and major events of those eras.

Parallel Worlds and Timelines

- Decide if time travel in your story creates alternate timelines or if it follows a single, mutable timeline. Consistency is key.

Temporal Organization

- Consider the existence of a governing body or organization that regulates time travel. Define its structure, rules, and purpose.

3. Language and Communication

Temporal Dialects

- Characters from different time periods should speak differently. Use historical dialects, slang, and accents appropriate to each era.

Temporal Jargon

- Create specific terms and jargon for time travelers and the technology they use, such as “temporal jump,” “chrononaut,” or “time anchor.”

Code of Conduct

- Develop a code of conduct or set of guidelines that time travelers must follow, including how they communicate with each other and with people from different eras.

4. Character Development

Motivations and Goals

- Clearly define why characters want to time travel. Is it for adventure, to change a personal event, or for scientific exploration?

Personal Growth

- Show how time travel affects characters emotionally and psychologically. Do they struggle with the ethics of their actions or the loneliness of being out of their time?

Conflict and Tension

- Use the potential for paradoxes, rival time travelers, and moral dilemmas to create conflict and tension.

5. Ethical and Moral Implications

Paradox Prevention

- Address how your story handles paradoxes, such as the grandfather paradox. Use concepts like self-healing timelines or fixed points in time to explain inconsistencies.

Ethical Dilemmas

- Explore the moral implications of time travel. Should characters intervene in historical events? What are the consequences of changing the past Responsibility

- Emphasize the responsibility that comes with the power to alter time. Characters should consider the broader implications of their actions.

6. Plot Structure

Non-Linear Narrative

- Use non-linear storytelling techniques to enhance complexity and intrigue. Flashbacks, flash-forwards, and parallel timelines can create a rich narrative.

Foreshadowing and Payoff

- Plant clues and foreshadowing that pay off later in the story. Ensure that all plot threads are resolved by the end.

Multiple Perspectives

- Consider telling the story from multiple viewpoints to show the impact of time travel from different angles.

7. Integrating Science Fiction and Fantasy Elements

Scientific Plausibility

- Ground your time travel mechanics in plausible science, even if you incorporate fantastical elements. Use pseudo-scientific explanations to bridge the gap.

Imaginative Enhancements

- Blend scientific theories with imaginative elements, such as ancient artifacts, alien technology, or supernatural forces.

Explanatory Dialogue

- Use character dialogue to explain complex concepts in an accessible way without overwhelming the reader with technical details.

8. World-Building Consistency

Timeline Integrity

- Map out key events in your story’s timeline to avoid inconsistencies and plot holes.

Cultural and Societal Impact

- Consider how time travel affects society. Is it a well-known and regulated practice, or a secret known only to a few?

Technological and Historical Changes

- Explore how changes in the past affect technology and history in the present and future. Ensure these changes are logically consistent.

9. Avoiding Common Pitfalls

Avoid Overcomplication

- Keep the rules of time travel simple enough for readers to follow without getting bogged down in excessive technical detail.

Plot Holes

- Be vigilant about potential plot holes and inconsistencies that can arise from complex time travel mechanics.

Exposition Balance

- Balance the need to explain time travel mechanics with maintaining the story’s pace and engagement. Avoid info-dumping.

Rules for Time Traveling

1. One-Way Trips Only

Restriction

- Time travelers can only move forward or backward in time once without the possibility of a return journey.

Explanation

- This rule ensures that the timeline remains linear and prevents paradoxes caused by multiple interactions with the same time period.

Effect

- Limits interference with historical events and reduces the chance of creating alternate realities.

2. The Observer Effect

Restriction

- Time travelers cannot interact with their past selves or directly influence their previous actions.

Explanation

- Direct interaction with one’s past self could create paradoxes, such as the “grandfather paradox,” where altering past events prevents the traveler’s existence.

Effect

- Maintains the integrity of the timeline and ensures personal history remains consistent.

3. Fixed Points in Time

Restriction

- Certain historical events, known as fixed points, cannot be changed or altered in any way.

Explanation

- These events are crucial for the stability of the timeline and the universe’s structure.

Effect

- Prevents catastrophic changes to reality, ensuring key moments in history remain intact.

4. Memory Corruption

Restriction

- Excessive time travel can lead to memory corruption, where the traveler starts forgetting crucial details of their original timeline.

Explanation

- The brain struggles to handle multiple versions of events, leading to cognitive dissonance and memory loss.

Effect

- Ensures travelers use time travel sparingly and only when absolutely necessary.

5. Temporal Anchor

Restriction

- Time travelers must establish a temporal anchor, a fixed point in time to which they can return or stabilize themselves.

Explanation

- This anchor serves as a safeguard against getting lost in time or drifting uncontrollably through different periods.

Effect

- Provides a safety net for travelers, ensuring they have a way back to their original timeline or a stable reference point.

6. Butterfly Effect

Restriction

- Minor changes in the past can have significant, unforeseen consequences in the future.

Explanation

- The butterfly effect illustrates how small actions can ripple through time, drastically altering future events.

Effect

- Encourages travelers to be cautious and minimize their impact on past events to avoid unintended consequences.

7. Temporal Energy Consumption

Restriction

- Time travel requires a significant amount of energy, often depleting the traveler’s resources or affecting the environment.

Explanation

- The energy needed to manipulate time is immense, and its usage can lead to resource shortages or environmental damage.

Effect

- Ensures time travel is not undertaken lightly and that travelers consider the environmental and resource costs.

8. Chrono-Sickness

Restriction

- Prolonged exposure to different time periods can cause physical and mental ailments, known as chrono-sickness.

Explanation

- The human body and mind are not designed to handle the stress of moving through time, leading to disorientation, nausea, and psychological effects.

Effect

- Limits the duration and frequency of time travel, encouraging travelers to minimize their trips.

9. Temporal Interference

Restriction

- Time travelers must avoid interfering with major historical figures or events.

Explanation

- Interfering with significant events or individuals can drastically alter the course of history, leading to unpredictable outcomes.

Effect

- Preserves the natural flow of history and ensures major events occur as intended.

10. Temporal Paradoxes

Restriction

- Travelers must avoid creating paradoxes, situations where actions in the past contradict the present or future.

Explanation

- Paradoxes can destabilize the timeline, potentially leading to its collapse or the creation of alternate realities.

Effect

- Ensures travelers act responsibly and with caution, preventing actions that could lead to paradoxical situations.

***

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[copperbadge]

In the ongoing discussion of aphantasia (see "an aphantasia fantasia" tag for more) an article popped up recently which has some details to share, including a history of how aphantasia was discovered in the scientific sense. I don't have "spatial thoughts" the way the author does, but it's also a pretty good discussion of how people who don't form mental images (or can't access sound, smell, etc in their minds) still interact normally with the world.

Here's some fucked up shit I didn't expect, however:

In a 2015 paper, a group of researchers [...] identified a new syndrome they called “Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory,” or SDAM for short. People with SDAM lack the ability to relive past experiences in their minds. While this condition is rare among the general population, a preliminary survey hints at a link with aphantasia, with as many as 51 percent of a sample of 2,000 SDAM individuals also having aphantasia. My own experience is similar. Past episodes of my life—when I can recall them at all—feel distant and non-sensory. [...] I would describe my recollections as summaries of key facts rather than first-person “mind movies.” When asked, out of the blue, about an experience I’ve surely had—say, any childhood birthday party—my mind first responds by drawing a blank. It feels as if my episodic memories were filed into a “mental cabinet” without an index. Many memories are in there, somewhere, but retrieving them is a daunting task unless I’m provided with very specific prompts. With some groping work of deduction (where did I live at the time? Who did I hang out with?) I can gather enough hints to bring out some locations and non-visual facts: I had a big party in our countryside garden when I was 11 or 12; there was cake; a lot of kids running around and … that’s about it.

This is one hundred percent how I access memory and how I assumed everyone did -- I am well aware I don't remember chunks of my past (or only remember them if prompted by something) but I do the same thing he does. I ask myself where I was living, or what other things were happening at the time, or I snag on a rare memory of a piece of clothing or a feeling, and I extrapolate from there. I don't relive memories in the way that the article implies regular people do, and while I will recognize say, the smell of a specific library, a deeply ingrained scent for me, I don't remember the smell if I'm not standing there smelling it. And this explains my dedication to making an annual photobook documenting the past year, each December -- the photobooks are powerful memory triggers and have more than once reminded me where I was or what year it was when I did XYZ thing.

Also, turns out that one of the key methods for emotional regulation in most people is calling up a happy memory to counteract sad ones, which is why depression is so pervasive, because depressed people have literal biological impairments to remembering or reliving positive memories.

And SDAM, associated with aphantasia, is an impairment to reliving any memory at all, so...

Big ol' neurological yikes, guys.

[bassband]

I want the foucault essay please.

Well... since you asked...

The thing is, the move from the London apartment(s) to the phouse represents not only a symbolic shift in the visual language of their videos but a material change in both Dan and Phil's lives and in their relationship with their audience. Furthermore, we can use it to understand some of the murkier aspects of phandom history if we care to delve into an investigation of sexuality, conformity, and desire.

The London apartment is a place well and truly of its time, from the geek chic decor to the midtwentysomething string lights in Dan's bedroom. It was a serious undertaking for two twenty-somethings who had just gotten a radio job, and were committing to live in a very expensive location on an entertainer's income. They have spoken about the difficulty they experienced in separating their work and their public personas from their private lives, which is perhaps most poignantly demonstrated by the fact that they literally slept with cameras and lights pointing at their beds.

In Discipline and Punish, Foucault (and forgive me, I've donated my copies of his books since I left college, so I'll be working from memory) describes the modern phenomenon of the "panopticon"-- a disciplinary tool of the modern era where rather than physically restraining or controlling transgressors, people are kept in line by the feeling that they are constantly being monitored. The knowledge of societal norms, and whether an individual has violated them, is the axis on which power turns.

During their time in London, Dan and Phil were experiencing a meteoric rise to fame which no one could have anticipated. Suddenly it seemed that their every gesture, every movement, every interaction with one another, was under constant scrutiny from millions of viewers. One can only imagine the degree to which that feeling spilled over into their day-to-day existence, because it must have-- I can't imagine putting on an act for the camera, scouring the footage for bits that seemed too revealing or vulnerable, and then trying to sleep in front of the same camera which, even if it wasn't on, represented the watching, monitoring gaze of the internet.

The social norm in question here, of course, was being gay. Mostly, anyway. A transgression of sexuality. Foucault has a lot to say about this too, of course, in the several volumes of his History of Sexuality. I won't get into that too much here. To summarize with a butcher's brevity, the modern conception of sexuality is, like that of criminality, shaped by the need to cognize, label, categorize, and scientifically observe it. At other points in the past, even when sexuality may have been perceived as deviant or wrong, it was treated as an act, not as an intrinsic flaw. To identify someone as being homosexual, or queer, or trans, or what have you, is a relatively new invention.

Were Dan and Phil gay? Were they just friends? Were they bisexual? Did they actually live together? Did they fuck? The near-rabid desire to get to the bottom of these questions was shaped in part by a societal urge in our culture to pin people down like butterflies in a collector's case. The knowledge of bodies, desires, and the latent Catholic urge to demand they all be confessed in excruciating detail haunted Dan and Phil wherever they went online.

In this new era then, are we doing any better? I think we are. Where the London apartment is documented by floor plan down to the last inch (and worse yet, was at one point doxxed), the phouse is an intentionally private space with plenty left to the imagination, where I do so hope the boys are living WITHOUT cameras pointed where they sleep. There's something interesting to me, too, in their disinterest in framing their relationship in concrete terms. The nature of their celebrity is bound to expose them to scrutiny, both from friendly and unfriendly gazes, but I feel like the main difference in their attitude these days is a plain refusal to allow the surveillance to dictate their lives. Some things, they just don't want to talk about. Some things they do (and oh boy, do they love to talk about those things).

Our cultural frameworks do us no favors in understanding this kind of ambiguity, but I think it's to our credit as an audience that overall I see more and more people embracing it. Foucault is a bit of a downer overall, but he concludes the History of Sexuality vol. 1 by saying something to the effect of, the best we can do is to follow our desires and try to find joy for ourselves and our communities in doing so. And a radically liberatory approach to desire and joy is I think exactly what this community cultivates at its best, for our boys and for ourselves.

[communistkenobi]

Hi, genuine good faith question if you'd like! How is TOS racist? It was my understanding that the OG Series was like, huge for equality in media?

I’m speaking primarily about the content of TOS itself, not its historical impact - I understand it had various historic firsts in terms of having characters of colour in respectable roles, which I’m not dismissing. My experience with the discourse on here surrounding the show is that people front-load these character representations as emblematic of the show’s progressive politics. Which, if we want to go that route, TOS was contemporary to the US civil rights movement, which provides us with a handy measuring stick to see how TOS actually grapples with race, not just the presence of characters of colour themselves. I'm going to be kind of defensive in this explanation, not towards you specifically, but because I have had this conversation with people online many, many, many times, and so any defensiveness on my part is in anticipation of arguments I know will come up as a result of making the basic claim that a show made in America in the 1960s is racist. I'm also going to be copy + pasting from an older post I've made on the subject since it's been a while now since I've watched TOS so some of the details are fuzzy.

Like okay, the premise of TOS is that the Enterprise, as an ambassador of Starfleet/the Federation, is seeking out new alien life to study. The Prime Directive prohibits the Enterprise crew from interfering with the development of any alien culture or people while they do this, so the research they collect needs to be done in an unobtrusive way. I think this is the first point at which people balk at the argument that TOS is racist or has a colonial conception of the world - the Enterprise’s mission is premised on non-interference, and I think when people hear ‘colonial’ as a descriptor they (understandably, obviously) assume it is describing active conquest, genocide, and dispossession. Even setting aside all the times where Kirk does directly interfere with the “development” of a people or culture (usually because they’ve “stagnated�� culturally, because a culture "without conflict" cannot evolve or “develop” beyond its current presumed capacity - he is pretty explicitly imposing his own values onto another culture in order to force them to change in a particular way), or the times when the Enterprise is actually looking to extract resources from a given planet or people, I’m not exactly making this claim, or rather, that’s not the only thing I’m describing when calling TOS racist/colonial.

The show's presentation of scientific discovery and inquiry is anthropological - the “object” of analysis is alien/foreign culture, meaning that when the Enterprise crew comes into contact with a new being or person, this person is always read first and foremost through the level of (the Enterprise’s understanding of) culture. Their behaviour, beliefs, dress, way of speaking, appearance, and so on are always reflective of their culture as a whole, and more importantly, that their racial or phenotypic characteristics define the boundaries of their culture. Put another way, culture is interpreted, navigated, and bound racially - the show presents aliens as a Species, but these species are racially homogeneous, flattening race to a natural, biological difference that is always physically apparent and presented through the lens of scientific objectivity, as "species" is a unit of biological taxonomy. Basically species is a shorthand for race. This is the standard of most sci-fi/fantasy genre work, so this is not a sin unique to Star Trek.

Because of this however, Kirk and Co are never really interacting with individuals, they are interacting with components of a (foreign, exotic, fundamentally different) culture, the same way we understand that a biologist can generalize about a species using the example of an individual 'specimen'. And when the Enterprise interacts with these cultures, they very frequently measure them using a universalized scale of development - they have a teleological (which is to say, evolutionary) view of culture, ie, that all cultures go from savage to rational, primitive to advanced, economically simple to economically complex (ie, to capitalist modes of production). And the metrics they are judging these cultures by are fundamentally Western ones, always emphasising to the audience that the final destination of all cultures (that are worthy of advancing beyond their current limited/“primitive” stages) is a culture identical to the Federation, a culture that can itself engage in this anthropological mission to catalogue all life as fitting within a universal set of practices and racial similarities they call “culture.”

This is a western, colonial understanding of culture - racially and spatially homogeneous people comprise the organs of a social totality, ie, a society, which can then be analysed as an “object,” as a “phenomenon,” by the scientists in order to extract information from them to produce and advance state (ie Federation) knowledge. The Enterprise crew are allowed to be individuals, are allowed to be subjects with a capacity for reason, contradiction, emotion, compassion, and even moments of savagery or violence, without those things being assigned to their “race” or “culture” as a whole, but the people they interact with are only components of a whole which are “discovered” by the Enterprise as opportunities to expand and refine the Federation’s body of knowledge.

Spock is actually a good example of what I'm talking about, because he is an exception to this rule - unlike the others in the crew, his behaviour is always read as a symptom of his innate Vulcan-ness, where his human and Vulcan halves war for dominance in his mind and character. Bones (the doctor, one of the main cast) constantly comments on Spock's inability to feel things, that he is callous and unsympathetic, ruled by Vulcan logic to such an extreme that his rationality is a form of irrationality, as his Vulcan blood prohibits him from tempering logic with human emotion and intuition. Now you can argue that Bones is a stand-in for the racists of the world, that Spock proves Bones wrong in that he is able to feel but merely keeps it under wraps, that Vulcans are not biologically incapable of emotion but merely live in a socially repressive culture, but this still engages in the racial logic of the show - Vulcans are a racially-bound species with a single monolithic culture, and Spock's ability to express and feel 'human emotions' is the metric by which he is granted human subjectivity and sympathy.

And on the flip side you have the Klingons - a “race” that is uniformly savage, backward, violent, and dangerous. In the episode Day of the Dove, where Klingons board the Enterprise along with an alien cloud that makes everyone suddenly aggressive and racist (this show is insane lol), the Enterprise crew begins acting violent and racist, but the Klingons don’t change. They aren’t more violent than before (because they already were fundamentally violent and racist), and they don’t become less violent when the cloud eventually leaves (because they are never able to emerge from their violence and savagery as a social condition or external imposition - they simply are that way). Klingons are racially, behaviourally, psychologically, and culturally homogeneous, universally violent and immune to reason, and their racial characteristics are both physical manifestations of this universal violence as well as the origin of it. The writers and creators of TOS are explicitly invoking the orientalist idea of the “Mongolian horde,” representing both the American fear of Soviet global takeover as well as blatantly racist fears about “Asiatics” (a word used in the show, particularly in The Omega Glory where a fear of racialised communist takeover is made explicit) dominating the world.

This is colonial thinking! Like, fundamentally, at its core, this is colonial white supremacist thinking. Now this is not because TOS invents these tropes or is the origin of them, it is not individually responsible for these racial and colonial logics - these conceptions are endemic to Western thought, and I am not expecting a television show to navigate its way outside of this current colonial paradigm of scientific knowledge. I’m also not expecting an average person watching this to pick out all the intricacies of this and link it to the colonial history of Europe or the colonial history of western philosophy/thought. But this base premise of Star Trek is why the show is fundamentally colonial - even if it was the case that the crew never intervened in any alien conflict, never extracted any material resources from other people, this would still be colonial logic and colonial thinking. The show has a fundamentally colonial imagination when it comes to exploration, discovery, and culture.

I think a good place to end is the opening sequence. The show's first line is always "Space! The final frontier." I do not think the word frontier is meant metaphorically or poetically - I think the show is being honest about its conception of space as an infinitely vast, infinitely exotic frontier from which a globally Western civilisation (which the Enterprise is an emblem of) can extract resources, be they material or epistemic

[paper-mario-wiki]

It only recently occurred to me that the Garden of Eden Creation Kits, or G.E.C.K. devices in Fallout, stand as a karmic opposite to the symbol of the nuclear bomb.

The nuclear bomb is effective as a weapon is a two stage attack. First there's the boom. An invention the size of a small car, in a flash so short you wouldn't even be able to think about it before being vaporized if you were anywhere within 2 miles of where it was, and you'd be lucky to live longer than 10 minutes if you weren't at least 10 miles away. An unstoppable, unhaltable fire that burns hot enough to vaporize anything even remotely alive instantly, and it's the size of a city before you have enough time to say "oh my god look at that". And then, after this devastating, all consuming flame goes out, the decay left over from that little drop of metal leaves the earth, the water, the sky, and all other physical domains completely uninhabitable for YEARS. It instantly creates a domain so remarkably dangerous that it becomes a global landmark. I'd say that it is only slightly hyperbolic in a cheesey poetic way that what a nuclear bomb does is create the closest thing to literal hell on earth that humans are currently capable (whether by scientific limitation, or by moral unwillingness) of creating.

On the other hand, the G.E.C.K., a sleek silver briefcase the size of a 2005 laptop, acts as a compact seed to create a stable, healthy environment, with enough power in a hyper-dense coal fusion battery to power a city. A succinct utopia in a box. In early depictions this was described as hyper resilient seeds, chemical mixtures to create viable soil, instructions for how to disassemble and reuse shelters to become extremely resilient and powerful new world places of safety, as well as vast documents on the details and assembly of advanced and highly efficient technologies like force fields. In later games, it was increased to something of a mythical item, capable of literally terraforming miles of earth down to the molecular level to be safe for habitation, as well as the ability to replicate anything you might need in terms of rations or supplies. In its own way, it is mankind's best attempt (at least in the Fallout universe) to create a massive-scale utopia in as small of a box, that creates as close to a heaven on earth, as possible. And it's even got a biblical tie-in right in the name. I think that's very fitting.

[bts-roses]

A Dream With an Idol

summary - You've been having dreams, oddly inexplicably realistic dreams with the man you, and the rest of the world, admires. But your heart grows tired of it when you start to fall in love with him, someone you don't actually know.

pairing - Idol!Yoongi x reader

genre - idol!au, dream!au, fluff, angst

word count - 6.8k

warnings - lil' bit of swearing

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You don't notice the surreal atmosphere engulfing you as you sit on your couch. Your apartment looks the same as it always does, yet it feels inexplicably foggier, as if you could touch your surroundings and everything would fizzle and dissipate fleetingly into thin air.

Before you're able to clock onto the hazy feeling that seems to flow through your entire bloodstream, a breaking news segment on your TV steals your attention: apparently the scientifically proven cure for a broken heart is a kitten's ballad.

Normally, you would question this, grab your phone and debunk it through the internet for the sake of your sanity and your need to always be right. Instead, your consciousness accepts it and you grab the glass of water next to you, failing to register the way it feels like and weighs nothing in your seemingly numb hand.

As you're about to take a drink, a knock on your front door unexpectedly stalls you.

You practically float towards the door, not feeling the normally cold floor on your feet. As the door swings open, you're surprised (but not sceptical) to find a very familiar face on the other side.

"Hi."

The man stares at you as if it was you who showed up to his door unannounced. His face is painted with just as much confusion as you feel.

"Hello," you breathe out, "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes?", the man unsurely says, following you to sit down on the couch.

You both say nothing, sitting in the silence you both subjected yourselves to. You stare at him in awe of how he looks close-up, the familiar features you would regularly admire in pictures is burnt in your heart with a brand new filter of details those photos would normally miss. He stares at you in a similar way, but he slowly explores the small details of your face in a way that signals to you that this is the first time he has ever seen you.

"I'm a big fan of yours." You break the silence, breaking out into a bashful smile.

He blinks.

He offers a brief smile back.

"Thank you." he replies, continuing to intensely stare at you.

You give an acknowledging nod, thanking him for his thanks. You purse your lips out in the undeniably awkward atmosphere.

"I'm y/n", you introduce yourself in attempt to hack at the silence, "I already know who you are."

This time he gives the acknowledging nod, a bit taken aback by your sudden bluntness. Yet a genuine smile sneaks out on his face and his brain doesn't catch up to the words that spill out of his mouth.

"Can I give you a hug?" He unexpectedly says, his face showing as much surprise as you feel.

In that moment, you realise he was speaking in Korean and you, despite never actually learning the language, fully understood it like you know the sun can be seen in the sky. The realisation, however, is momentary, finally processing his question. You don't even verbalise your response, instead moving forward to show him your answer.

Then all of a sudden, everything transcends into something that is inexplicable to describe in any other way except real.

He feels real.

You feel the comforting pressure from his arms around your body. You feel every soft shape, edge, and surface on his both muscly and soft body. You feel the soothing scent from him uplifting the senses in your nose. You feel the overwhelming warmth radiating from his body. The feeling is visceral, your heart drums throughout your body when you feel his heartbeat on your skin.

He is real.

As if shocked by electricity, you both move away from each other, staring at each other in pure shock. It's in that moment you take in the surreal atmosphere, the foggy surroundings, the ridiculous news on the TV.

You realise you're dreaming and yet the man in front of you is inexplicably real.

What haunts you is that his face mirrors yours. As if he feels the exact same thing you do, as if he finally registers everything around him is surreal, as if he too realises he's dreaming. He realises.

You're real too.

He moves forward towards you again and opens his mouth, about to ask you if you just felt what he did. You feel every fibre in your body about to do the same, to confirm that you viscerally feel everything, you can feel him.

But before either of you can utter a single word, everything and anything selfishly and unforgivingly rips through the existence, so brutally that it forces your eyes wide open.

You wake up.

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The dream stayed on your mind, the feeling of his touch lingered on your skin. So much so that if you try to think back to it, you could almost relive it. It's odd. So inexplicably odd.

You mentioned it to your friends. Yet, despite their initial interest in your story, they only acknowledged the dream with a "huh, that's weird" and moved on from it. And, considering the bizarreness of the dream and the fear of being perceived as a delusional fan who was convinced that the Yoongi from BTS interacted with you through a dream, you accepted the passing commentary and told yourself that it was some sort of weird fluke.

And you kept telling yourself that until you started to get more and more dreams featuring the famous idol.

It got to a point where it was every few days. The dream always consisted of the same thing: you guys would find each other in the dream; have a chat about something random; end up hugging; feel the inexplicably, very real feeling of each others' bodies; look at each other with the recognition of the previous times this has happened; open your mouths to address the bizarre sensation; and then, of course, wake up absolutely breathless.

At first, you tried to will yourself to remember and confront the repetitive structure of the dream, like trying to remember the exact timing of a jump scare in a horror movie or the exact moment you see the romantic interest fall in love with their fated partner. But every time, you enter the dream without realising you're dreaming, never fully conscious of the repetition until you hug, always letting him slip from your grasp. Both metaphorically and (kind of) literally.

So, 6 months in, you gave up trying to confront the weird phenomena. Instead, just enjoying the dreams, enjoying his hazy company, enjoying your seemingly genuine conversations about anything and everything within the bizarre and eccentric world of your dreams.

There was something so indescribably real and authentic about dream Yoongi. You found yourself confiding in him about life, your real world life that is. You would talk about what had happened that day, the memories from your teen years, your aspirations, your likes, your dislikes, anything. In return, dream Yoongi would tell you about his day, his memories from his teen years, his struggles, what he ate that day, what music he was working on, funny stories about his friends. For instance, apparently Namjoon keeps embarrassing himself in front of an intern he may (i.e., definitely) has a crush on and you find yourself both laughing and cringing at the different moments Yoongi would retell at the cost of his dear friend's demise. It was strangely very believable and, after the fated realistic hug, you would wake up, feeling a unique sense of embarrassment for how detailed and enjoyable your made-up yet convincing conversations were with dream-Yoongi.

You felt a tiny bit more embarrassed to admit that, a year and a half in, these dream conversations were a big part of resolving your real life problems (thanks to dream-Yoongi's pragmatic but considerate advice), a big part of your life, and a big part of who you are. You hated to admit it to yourself, but these dreams weren't merely fantasies; they were a tangled web of devastatingly real emotions. The discussions were achingly genuine to you, you would pour your heart out in these moments in return for his.

Before you knew it, dream-Yoongi crept his disastrously perfect self inside your heart.

You fell in love with someone you don't know.

Was it stressful falling deeper and deeper in love with dream-Yoongi with every dream you had of him? Yes. Did you freak out that one time Yoongi mentioned he was getting ready for a comeback and then a week later that same comeback was announced? Very much so. Did it get a bit too much that you had to actively stop being a fan of the group because keeping up with them became a tragic, painful reminder that dream-Yoongi was just that: a dream? Absolutely.

The more your feelings blossomed in your chest, the more ridiculous you felt about the situation. It got to the point that you went on a date and you felt so weird, almost guilty for betraying Yoongi. You had to remind yourself that 1. you aren't even in a relationship with Yoongi and 2. you've never even met this man you felt you were betraying.

It got to the point where the ridiculousness you felt started to transform to a constant ache gnawing at your heart, your dreams overshadowing reality. You realised your unrequited love for a man you made up in your head.

You decided these dreams needed to stop.

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In all honesty, you had no idea how to try and attempt to resolve the issue at hand and neither did Reddit (unsurprisingly your experience was very, very unique). So, in a moment of pure desperation, you went to see a (very expensive) dream therapist.

The very understanding and non-judgemental woman tried to reason that these dreams may be a result of issues with your love life and being single (there wasn't, you were quite content not being in a relationship) or maybe because you were a big fan of BTS (unfortunately you were not anymore). You felt a bit sorry for the therapist, especially after she admitted she doesn't really know how to help, having never seen or heard of your experience before.

In the end, the therapist suggested trying to bring your subconscious to heal and bridge that gap between your desires and reality. You weren't really sure what that could entail, and neither did she. After a moment of heavy silence, the therapist apologised for her inability to help and broadly concluded:

"The rule of thumb here is that confronting what's really been bothering you often resolves your problems in some way."

You walk out of the appointment with some form of hope.

You decide maybe the best course of action is to actually try to address the real sensations you feel when you touch dream-Yoongi and potentially this may resolve something in your unconscious? (You really weren't too sure but you thought doing something was better than nothing).

So, you went out, bought a dream journal, and tried to start lucid dreaming. You start keeping track of your dreams, investing in better sleep, and, really, following every advice page that was out there. However, when it finally works, you couldn't dream in dream-Yoongi for some reason. Instead, you "wake up" with sleep paralysis and find it genuinely terrifying.

So you give up.

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You have 3 more dreams with dream-Yoongi. In each one, you catch him staring at you with a mist of worry in his eyes, almost begging you to let him know what's wrong. You feel bad but you try to dismiss him, settling for the regular surface-level chats that seem to be engulfed with more moments of silence than normal.

It seems that something keeps throwing more and more problems your way to deal with, both with your dreams and life in general. After learning a bit about dreams from the therapist, you're not surprised to note that your dreams seem to be more mellow than usual.

3 months have passed since the sleep paralysis incident and you're in another dream.

It's not as grim as it has been recently. Instead, you're sitting on the blinding white sand with your arms around your knees, basking in the sunlight as people play volleyball in the bright blue ocean on horse-sized cats.

You think one reminds you of Yoongi.

"Is this seat taken?"

Speak of the devil.

"What, the vast land of sand?" you tease, staring out to the sea, as he rolls his eyes .

"You know what I meant," he sighs, "Can I sit next to you?"

"Yes, of course you can," you answer, stealing glances at him as he sits a foot away from you.

You both stay silent, watching the odd scene in front of you as if it's a daily occurrence to watch a form of beach cat polo. But, you will reason when you wake up, in a dream you wouldn't question it at all.

"What's been up with you recently?" Yoongi asks, mirroring your position, his head resting on his arms, staring at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, recently you have been a bit off," Yoongi shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can tell he feels a bit uneasy, "Every time we talk you just seem a bit out of it."

As you digest what he said, you remain silent. Huh. You guess you have been out of it.

"I..." you think about how to go about this, "I think I'm just tired about all of this?"

"All of what?" Yoongi asks, and you watch as his face scrunches in confusion.

He's so beautiful, it hurts.

Tragically, your unconscious won't let dream-you remember the true reason for your sadness. Instead, you feel the need to confess, confess you have fallen for him. Confess everything you have felt for nearly 2 years, in front of the glistening sea and purple sunset that is adorned with purring cats.

But, for once, the real-you influences dream-you a bit too much, you're too scared.

"I'm just tired of... work?", you say with as much assuredness you can muster, "Work has been really stressful, they are offering me this big transfer, well more like insisting I transfer and I don't know... I might reject it."

That was actually true (for real-world you).

"Oh shit," Yoongi raises his eyebrows, letting out a sigh of relief, "Well, transfer to what? To where?"

"To another country," you continue, thankful for the change in conversation "Away from my friends, my family, and just about everything I know."

Another wave of silence fills the atmosphere as you both take in the sunset in front of you. It's doubtlessly unrealistic yet undeniably beautiful.

The peace stops when your peripheral catches Yoongi abruptly spinning his head towards you.

"Wait, is it for that job you were talking about? The project manager role?" Yoongi asks.

You nod. You watch as his face changes to let out his breath-taking smile. Your heart melts at the sight and the fact that he remembered.

It seems dream-Yoongi remembers everything.

"So it's not just a transfer, it's a promotion! Is that not great? You've been wanting to work with the charity for ages," he asks you, with admiration and a sense of pride in his eyes.

"But, I didn't realise I would have to actually move somewhere for it. I'm kind of scared to move to somewhere new, especially because I like where I am. What if I don't like it? I don't even speak the language!" you try to reason, letting out a groan listening to your own whines, "Is it shitty of me to give this opportunity up just because I'm scared?"

It falls silent as you both think about it.

"No. It seems there's pros and cons to both," Yoongi reasons back, "but both options do not make you a shitty person. There's a balance in helping others and putting yourself first"

You hum in contemplation. Silence washes up the shore again.

"But you do realise you can actually learn the language right?" he teases, "Like, that's what most people do when they need to move to a different country."

You give a pointed look at him, trying to remain serious, while the corners of your mouth betray your intentions. He looks at you with a seemingly genuine expression of endearment, letting out a small chuckle.

"You want my honest opinion?" Yoongi asks, continuing when you give him a nod, "Are you scared of moving to a new country or are you scared to move away from your place? Because to me it sounds like you're just scared to leave home and that's fine. But there's a difference between staying in a place because you actually like it and staying in a place just because it's comfortable."

You stare at him, a bit bewildered and struck with self-realisation that he might be right. He looks at you with a fond smile and gives a little shrug

"I would just hate to see you give up something you've been passionate about to just settle," he truthfully admits.

"What makes you think I'm just settling?" you ask, half joking, half offended.

"The way you talk about your life, I know you like your friends and your family and 'just about everything you know'. But you don't seem truly happy with where you are," Yoongi counters, "Like, where you are personally, with your job, I mean sometimes you seem bored with your city. And you always talk about wanting to start anew. I just want you to think about it before saying no"

"Yeah, I guess... " you quietly say, digesting all his words, "Thank you Yoongi."

You give him a sincere smile, and you watch as his eyes gazes around your face, as if he's trying to memorise every detail. Your heart warms at the action.

"It's no worries. I'll always be here, no matter what you choose, just let me know what you end up doing," Yoongi smiles, pausing before asking you, "So where would the transfer be?"

You pause for a moment.

"Um, it would be in the Seoul branch."

"What?" Yoongi gapes, "That's insane, you always talk about wanting to visit here. We could even meet up if you come," Yoongi suggests, unable to hide his excitement.

"I know," you let out a chuckle at his reaction, excitement spreading to you at the thought.

That won't actually happen though.

You feel your heart ache at the little voice in your head. You drop your head down, despairingly chuckling at the improbable idea.

He doesn't even know you exist.

And in that moment, you stare at him in shock.

You realise you're dreaming.

But before the now-conscious you could finally talk to dream-Yoongi, he lurches forward to bring you into an excited hug. And as always, you feel the same realistic warmth and pressure of his body onto yours, and it spreads and flutters right to your heart.

Then dread fills your entire body. No.

And just like clockwork, he instantly holds your shoulders to slightly push you away, frantically looking at your face with the same confusion you see on his face after every godforsaken hug.

Hopelessly, you try to quickly get any word out to the man in front of you, watching as he too scrambles to let even a sound out.

"You're-," you barely hear him start.

Then, you wake up.

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You decide to accept the transfer.

You have also decided that your dreams need to stop. For multiple reasons. You don’t want your heart to ache every time you see even a picture of real-Yoongi, which would probably be every day when you move to Seoul. You don’t want to keep tearing up at the realisation that the real-Yoongi is nothing like your dream-Yoongi or at the fact that dream-Yoongi isn’t real. And on the very rare chance you ever see real-Yoongi in real life and he walks past you as if you are just a stranger (which you guess you are), you don’t think your heart could actually, realistically take that kind of heartbreak.

So, you decide you really need to sort this dream situation out once and for all before you move. As a symbol of truly starting anew.

You try to lucid dream again and again.

And, for once, it works.

You open your eyes to a vivid yet clouded scene. You take in the sights, the dark velvet seats all lined up to face the stage were illuminated by the dimmed lights on the dark gold-coloured walls. Almost half of the theatre seats are filled; there’s people you notice are your coworkers and some people you don’t recognise at all. You don’t dwell on them for too long as you notice him sitting a few rows from the front of the stage.

You feel a bit wobbly making your way down the aisle, noticing how weird everything feels in a dream. Everything is so similar to real life, yet there’s this noticeable addition that feels unexplainable and yet somewhat fuzzy-feeling. As you near him, you feel your breath hitch in your throat as he turns to look at you, as if feeling your presence nearby.

"Ah, nice of you to show up," he jokes, "I was wondering if you got lost and I would never see you again."

You instantly feel yourself smile at the sight of his face, comfort filling your heart and mind. You note how handsome he looks in the black suit he’s wearing as you sit down beside him.

"Hate to disappoint," you play along, "I'm hard to get rid of."

He laughs with familiarity, feigning disappointment with a dejected sigh.

It feels odd to sit next to him. Well, it’s odd for the real, conscious-you to sit next to dream-Yoongi. Again, you note the haziness of your surroundings, the subliminal feeling like your falling and yet, dream-Yoongi remains so realistic, almost an anchor to this whole experience. It almost makes you second guess whether you truly are dreaming in the first place. But, you don’t know if that’s because that’s just the experience of lucid dreaming or the fact you are sitting next to the man you fell in love with, well, made up man.

"I actually need to talk to you about something," you start, turning towards him awkwardly in the fixed seat.

Sensing the serious tone in your voice, he turns towards you too, also awkwardly in the fixed seat.

You huff at the uncomfortableness, not wanting this to be the place you finally say what’s been haunting you for nearly 2 years. Then you remember, you're dreaming.

With the realisation, your surroundings change to your wish.

You both are sitting down on your old couch in your house: the place where you had your first dream with Yoongi. 

He looks at you with the same concerned expression, either not noticing the surroundings changing around him or, as you logically reason, not caring because he is not real with an actual conscious.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi stares at you, worry painted on his face.

You feel tears fill in your eyes at the sight of him.

A sense of finality fills the air.

And with that, you inexplicably feel in your heart that this is the last time you will ever see Yoongi. The last time you will ever see the person you have shared the most precious and sacred conversations with. The last time you will ever see that man you love.

So, you try to savour the moment, savour him.

Your eyes trace every detail, every line, everything about him. The soft slope of his nose, his naturally pouty lips that seem to say everything right, his piercing yet soft eyes that look at you with so much care and adoration.

Care and adoration you made up in your head.

"I'm in love with you."

You breathe out a shaky breath. You curse yourself feeling so nervous at confessing to someone who only exists in your head.

"Please don't say anything," you plead when he opens his mouth, about to respond.

An unreadable expression embedded on his face nearly makes you stop to try and decipher him, but the need to keep confessing takes over.

"I'm in love with you, Yoongi," you repeat, "I love you, and I just wanted you to know. and I realise how ridiculous this is, confessing to someone who doesn't even know me, let alone love me back but I love you."

You stare at him as his eyebrows furrow in confusion with his chest heaving up and down, breathless from your words.

"You've been my comfort person and the more I think about it, the more I realise that I think I've made you up in my head to get me through it all. Through my endless job rejections, through my fights with my friends, my siblings. Even through the time my childhood cat died. You've given me so much advice and comfort and laughter with your ridiculous stories and thoughts. I love all the conversations we've had together and all the times we just sat in silence. I love how you aren't afraid to set me straight if I ever say something wrong. I love your passion when you talk about your music, your friends, the people you love. I love your outlook on life and people. And  I'm just so in love with you. And I don’t think any words can really get that across, Yoongi"

You raise your arm up to your face to wipe the tears off, chuckling at how good it feels to get this off your chest yet how painful this all is.

"And I want you to know I'm going to miss you. I don't care that you won't realise or that you might not even care that this all will end," you feel your heart break at the sudden thought, "Or maybe you will just cease to exist..."

You hiccup from all the tears, which blur your vision from the man in front of you.

"I just want to say I love you," you confess again, not caring how repetitive you sound.

You move to wipe your tears again, wanting one final look at the man you've grown to love the past years. You almost laugh at how speechless he looks.

"I'm gonna go now."

You move to stand up, heart heavy in your chest, about to take him out of your dream when you feel yourself stutter at the very real feeling of his hand around your wrist.

"Don't go, stop", the man chokes out, "I'm in love with you too."

You turn around to look at him, your heart disintegrating at the sight of his face, etched in confusion and pain.

Reminding yourself this is all in your head, you shake your head, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading through your chest. When he sees your disbelief, he begins to stutter, unsure of what to say.

"I'm so in love with you," he repeats, "This is real, this whole time it has been real, I swear it has to be real, I'm real, so please don’t go, don't leave me. I need to see you again, you can't leave me."

You almost fall for it. 

In your head you know this is just you making this up, you want to protect yourself because you want Yoongi to love you back, you want for him to be real.

But he isn’t.

You sit back down to face him, who stares at you in agony, and you give him a bittersweet smile. You move to tightly hug him, and, to your surprise, you feel his body begin to feel hazier and more indistinct the longer you hold him. For once, you can describe what this hug feels like: now it just feels dream-like. You feel him instinctively move to hug you back, even tighter, as if he would disappear if he loosens his grip even just a tiny bit. 

You almost laugh at the feeling, because he will disappear, he always does.

You quickly let go and hold his head in your hands to see his face one last time. You feel his realistic smooth skin in your hands start to grow indefinite and the wetness from the stray tear that falls from his red eyes dissipate on your fingertips, regardless you move your thumbs to wipe them from his perfect face. 

You feel him slip away from you.

"Goodbye, Yoongi."

For the last time, you feel a pull to move his face towards yours, wanting to touch his lips you've been dreaming about for years. He looks down at your lips and moves towards you as well.

You both are so close to each other, you feel what is left of him: his cooling warmth, his vague skin, his muted breath against your lip. You close your eyes as you feel a wisp of his soft lips against yours.

Then, you wake up.

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You don't dream of Yoongi again.

You try not to think about it for the next 5 months, somewhat succeeding (turns out moving to a new country is surprisingly a good way to try to get over the mourning of your non-existing lover you made up in your head). You also avoid the fuck out of any mention of Yoongi, which is tragically harder as he has apparently released a single. But now you are used to instinctively scrolling past any mention of him on social media or taking the longer way to the store to avoid his face on the billboards adorned in the busy streets. You’re doing better.

You settle fine in your new job, you get by fine with your improving Korean, you remember to call your family to remind them you’re doing fine because you are. You’re doing just fine.

You tell yourself that again in the mirror of the venue’s bathroom, getting ready for the celebrity charity event that you and your team had planned. You feel nervous with it being your first big project you took part in since moving here and you feel even more nervous from potentially meeting any of the celebrities on the attendance list. 

You feel your heart race knowing that he was set to attend.

Truly, you've never thought that you would ever actually meet Yoongi in real life. At first, you were considering not going, the feeling of anxiousness tempting you to an apologetic sick call to your manager. But you talk yourself out of it, you don't necessarily need to meet or speak to Yoongi, or any of the celebrities for that matter. And besides, you hate to admit it, but dream-Yoongi always told you to try to not let fear stop you from living your life. So you decide to go.

In fact, you're kind of excited.

Tasked to make sure the ‘red’ carpet event runs smoothly, you stand behind the cameras with your clipboard and phone, ticking off who’s arriving, who’s been interviewed, who’s left to arrive. Your headset provides an appreciated distraction from your nerves, listening to the chaotic whispers on the radio. You hear one of your coworkers squeal in the mic and you stifle a laugh as she apologises about being unprofessional. But, you instantly go breathless, when she explains it is because a certain someone just arrived.

You feel your whole body warm with your heartbeat racing impossibly faster at the sight of him standing on the carpet, while everyone flashes their cameras desperately at the global celebrity. You become breathless again, he looks so familiar and so comforting. You can't help but pat yourself on the back for how accurately your brain portrayed him.

You feel your heart melt at how he looks quite nervous, eagerly looking around at everyone, you can tell from the way he clasps his hands tightly as he poses that he feels a bit on edge, yet a bit excited? Your mind goes to the one conversation you had where he mentioned even to this day events like this still make him nervous. Your mind then goes to remind yourself that the conversation wasn’t with real-Yoongi but with dream-Yoongi. And also that the conversation wasn't actually real.

Still, you can't help but block everyone and everything else out as you watch him make his way down the carpet. Posing for more pictures and answering questions that some interviewers are asking him.

You feel yourself make yourself smaller as he makes his way to the end of the carpet where you are, feeling the unnecessary need to hide from his potential gaze. Still, you listen to his interview with the interviewer.

"Hello, we have Yoongi here!" The interviewer says to the camera, "How are you today?"

You watch as he answers the questions with the very similar gait, mannerisms and patterns of speech as dream-Yoongi, you feel that comforting feeling again.

"So, how did you hear about this charity?"

"I actually first heard about this charity from a really dear friend of mine." you see Yoongi look down with a fond smile, "They honestly have the exact same beliefs and views as me so when they first told me about it so passionately, I knew it was something I care about too. And I do care about it, with the topic of mental health, I believe it is so important that we care about the younger generation."

"That's really sweet", the interviewer relatably swoons, "and we can't not talk about your new single! It is amazing! Can you talk a bit about it?"

"Thank you. Um, yeah it's been a song that I think has been kind of long overdue, overdue for years. Some people have told me it's very cheesy in its essence," he chuckles, scratching his neck bashfully, "It's written as a dedication to someone you really care about, someone who's changed your life, someone so good, you don't believe they're real, you know?"

"Yeah, no, I get that," she replies, blushing at his words, "The fans love the different new sound you use in the song. Very different from what we are used to and it’s beautiful to listen to. Feels almost… How do I describe it? Dream-like? I guess that’s why you use it, the idea of a person of your dreams? Is that what you were alluding to?”

Your breath hitches at the irony, you feel a small pang at your heart. You convince yourself out of the delusion, as he takes a bit longer to answer.

"Yeah I guess, the person of my dreams..." He pauses, and looks back up to give another smile, "That's exactly what it is."

As he finishes the interview, he glances over the room, trying to meet eyes with everyone. When his gaze sweeps in your direction, your heart races, bending down to pretend to tie your laces (you’re wearing heels). You feel a bit pathetic in admitting you don’t want him to meet your eyes and move on, solidifying that everything you experienced was, in fact, just a figure of your imaginations and dreams. When you straighten up, he’s completed his scan, his expression tinged with a hint of disappointment - maybe he lost his manager?

The night goes on and you’re thankful that you’re kept busy ensuring everything is running smoothly behind the scenes. Yet, he does linger in mind and your heart, making it hard to fully focus. When you complete your final task in seeing the catering company off, your manager tells you to enjoy the party, but you can’t. You could go in the main hall and meet new people but a tightness settles in your chest. You feel like you’re choking up.

You step outside to the balcony, the designated smoking area. You quit smoking after dream-Yoongi told you he was trying to stop, and you both agreed to quit together. So, you just look out into the distance, feeling a bittersweet pang. You breathe in and out in the patterns dream-Yoongi taught you, the memories wrapping around you like a warm, comforting hug. You curse him for being such an indelible part of your life.

As your breathing stabilises, you take in the Seoul city night lights. Dream-Yoongi was right: it’s a devastatingly beautiful city at night, a beauty you can’t help but compare to him.

You hear the door open and freeze at the familiar voice speaking on the phone. You feel your whole body freeze and tense, gripping on the balcony railing for support. He ends the call, speaking in his dialect, so you only recognise bits of the conversation - turns out dream-you understanding fluent Korean didn’t mean the real-you did too.

You feel the urge to hide, but you tell yourself it’s ridiculous: he doesn’t know who you are and you need to accept that. Instead, you decide this is a rare opportunity to say hi to him as a fan because you always have been one. You’ve always admired him. You remind yourself that this would probably be the first and the last time you would ever be in this situation, even if his unfamiliarity would completely wreck you.

Taking in one final deep breath, you turn to look at him and smile, a mix of nervousness and that tragic feeling of love coursing through you. He looks at you and freezes, eyes widening slightly. You tell yourself you’re deluding yourself in imagining the recognition on his face, especially as he nonchalantly puts a cigarette between his lips and reaches for a lighter. He probably just got a shock from seeing someone there.

However, he keeps staring at you, his eyes effortlessly tracing your features and your body with a curious intensity that is so familiar yet makes you feel self-conscious. You can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile at your star-stricken expression.

Okay, so real-Yoongi is a bit of an asshole.

As he is about to light the cigarette, you let out a scoff, almost calling him a liar for betraying the promise dream-Yoongi made about smoking. But you stop yourself, reminding yourself that wasn’t real.

His head tilts at your scoff, a hint of disbelief on his face that is accompanied by his beautiful, almost cocky smile.

"뭐?" he says, his voice curious and playful.

You raise your eyebrows at him in retort. Your heart can’t help but flutter at how attractive this man is, even though he's not as sweet as dream-Yoongi used to be. The longer you guys just stare at each other, you surprisingly feel more comfortable in the presence of this man you technically just met. You can’t help but feel that warmth and familiarity that soothes you. You don’t feel as nervous as you should be meeting Suga of BTS; to you, he feels like dream-Yoongi. 

So, you give him a smile back, butterflies invading your stomach

You know there’s a rumour that real Yoongi is supposedly fluent in English, but you hope he doesn’t understand you in this moment

"You said you were gonna quit with me," you say, referencing the cigarette, "You're a liar."

You’re not sure if you’re surprised when he laughs.

"So you are real then," Yoongi says in English, his eyes sparkling with disbelief.

You gasp as he puts the unlit cigarette behind his right ear. He laughs again, a warm, familiar and disarming sound that sends your heart into overdrive. He walks up to you, his breath coming a little faster, paralleling your own.

"Wait, what?" you question, your mind reeling with the implications of his words.

Your confusion deepens when he places his hands on either side of your face, his touch gentle yet firm. His intense eyes gaze over your features with what you now accept is recognition and familiarity. His gummy smile widens as he takes in the sight of you. You can't tell if the loud beating heart is yours or his (or both).

He pulls you in for a hug. It feels real, yet so familiar, like slipping into a cherished memory. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, bending down to rest his head in your neck. This time, you don't feel hazy, and for once, you don’t feel rushed. Instead, the world seems to slow down, comforting you both at this moment.

Then you hear him, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck, filled with wonder and relief.

"You're real."

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A/n: Thank you so much for reading! And please give me any feedback! This was based on an actual dream I had of Yoongi and, of course, Faye Webster’s song ('a dream with a baseball player') that reminded me of the dream. But I hope you enjoyed reading and feel free to check out my other work <3

[sociopathicartist]

In case I don’t tell you enough, I love you.

a letter from sans directed to you, his lover.

y/n,

it’s been five years since monsterkind was freed from the surface.

it’s been four years since i’ve met you.

it’s april, and i’m still missing you.

maybe it’s stupid of me to miss you considering that i left your house only a few hours ago, and i’m laying in bed writing this on some loose paper i found on my floor while i think of you.

weirdly enough, the silence in my room is now unsettling compared to how calming it used to be. i guess the fan in your room blowing wind on your bed that i’ve yet to see turned off has grown on me. or maybe it’s the rain sounds you always have playing on your tv that clash with the fan that grew on me.

or maybe it’s you that's grown on me.

sometimes when i have a nightmare or i can't sleep i play fan and rain sounds on youtube to help me rest, not even thinking consciously about it anymore. it always just makes me feel like i’m back in bed with you with my eyes closed, waiting for you to come back from the kitchen with the glass of water that you wanted.

i wish that i could sum it up and say i can't find the words to describe how i feel, but that’s a lie. i know exactly how i feel about you.

tracing my phalanges along the little scars and nicks of your skin when i’m next to you never fails to entertain me. neither does running my hand through your hair, or twisting the rings on your fingers, or kissing you quickly for the 1000th time. i never thought i would be fond of that sort of stuff, i never thought i was a guy for any sort of romance.

i guess i just never realized that all i needed was the right person to give it to me. all i needed was you.

i’m not the best writer. even my lab logs from the rare times when i help alphys with her scientific tests are messy and short out. it’s almost like having all these thoughts about you is starting to eat me alive. i guess i have nowhere else to put them but on a piece of paper. if we ever get married one day like i hope we do, i’d like to give this to you. who knows when that will be though, so i guess this letter will just sit in one of my drawers collecting dust until i can give it to you. it kinda sucks to think about the fact that these words might never reach you, but that’s the way life is. it sucks most of the time.

i get this weird sinking feeling in my ribs near where my soul rests sometimes. it’s mostly when i think about how i miss you. sometimes my hand reaches up and brushes up and down my shoulder blade when i’m lying in bed alone, mimicking the motion that your hand does to me all the time when we lay together. i don’t even notice it happens anymore, but when i do and i realize you’re not actually there, that’s when that weird sinking feeling happens. it also happens on the rare thought of you not being in my future one day, even though i know that won't happen. i know you wouldn’t leave me.

i can’t help but wonder what this feeling was before i met you, and why i never got it.

was i just empty all the time?

even though i remember in great detail why my depression was so bad back then, back before i met you, i guess these happy years with everyone have slowly washed away that feeling. i felt so horrible for so long, and i didn’t care to ever try and get better because there was no point back then, but for some reason whenever i try to think of what was there in my life that i had like this, it’s almost numbed away from my memories. it’s like a bad nightmare that got washed away with the morning light.

that’s not to say i’m not thankful and glad i’m doing better now. sure, i’m still working things out, but who isn’t? i don’t think i wouldn’t have ever actually gotten help if it wasn’t for you, though. you’re really the only person who's ever seen me so clearly. i love how i don’t even have to tell you if something is wrong anymore, you just look at me and know. did you know that i’ve never had anyone take the time to notice the small difference between my genuine smile versus my resting and permanent one? the day you pointed that out to me was the day i realized i liked you.

i also thought it would take me a while to realize when i liked someone seriously. i think the last time i ever had a crush was… actually, i can’t remember. in the movies and books, it’s always the same scenario of ‘i like you but i haven’t liked anyone before so i don’t realize i like you until it’s too late’ but that wasn’t the case. i knew the moment i liked you.

it was this odd twinge in me that just kinda sprung throughout my bones. i think it’s the same equivalent of getting butterflies in your stomach, but without a stomach. i noticed your looks before, and i guess this sounds weird to say, but it was like after so long of friendship that i actually… noticed you.

you looked so beautiful, and you still do.

the shock at work and from other people was really funny when they found out we were dating. i don’t think they ever actually thought i’d find someone to settle down with. our friends knew better though. as shocked as our friends tried to act, it was pretty obvious that they were expecting it. i can’t believe it was that obvious that we liked each other.

there’s no big resolution to writing this. i just felt like writing it so that i could share the feelings i feel about you but that i forget to say when we are around each other. it’s not like i can get a single word in with how much you smooch on me though. not that i mind.

it’s not to say that if my puns ever get too much for you, or if you decide that i’m too lazy and you feel like you can’t leave, you can. i just really don’t want you to. i have a strong feeling that you don’t ever want to leave either.

i can’t wait to see how the rest of our lives turn out together. when we move in, get married, and just enjoy each other’s time. i know it’s crazy to hear from me, but i can’t wait to do the dishes with you and put away the laundry as you fold it. i can’t wait to enjoy your company every day one day. i know it’s a bit selfish, but i hope that things stay like this forever.

i hope that you get to read this one day, and in case i don’t tell you enough, i love you.

[1ightsen]

Maxie Infodump #1 - Little known character details from official media

I promised to post some of my maxie infodumps and headcannons, and I think I'll start it off with something simple. His official character bio that was hosted originally on the first release of ORAS (this will be ORAS Maxie focused)

here is a transcript for easy reading: "Maxie is the leader of Team Magma, the team seeking a world ideal for humanity. He pays attention to even the smallest of details, and is quite sensitive in some regards. He has a habit of describing situations in numerical terms. He possesses a cool-headed outlook, thinking that some sacrifices cannot be avoided if he is to achieve his goals." Okay, so first, after looking at the original japanese version of this page,

小さいことまで細かく気にする、神経質なところがあり、さまざまなことを数字を交えてあらわすのが口癖。 目的を果たすためなら、犠牲が出ても仕方ないと考える冷徹な思想の持ち主でもある。 The one word in here I wanted to be sure of was 'sensitive' since it can have many meanings, and the original japanese gives us some possibilities with:

Personally I think (being) highly strung is the most likely option here, but either way its an interesting character trait. And we all know he certainly builds up frustration and tension and explodes a bit like a volcano. Even if he does manage to correct himself afterwards.

~ ANYWAYS ~

Now that we have the bio, let's break it down a little and look at some fun examples of it in action! Maxie has a habit of describing situations in numerical terms. This typically comes out more when he is nervous or stressed. Here are some examples: Ill just take ORAS as an example here since this is already getting pretty long... In ORAS after fighting him at mt chimney, he lets you know in a specific numerical way, how much he fell behind:

And then again, when you battle with him and lose in the Battle Resort where he just has to let you know the situation in numerical terms by giving you the exact lose chance according to his own calculations of course:

"So the great Maxie has fallen, even when battling alongside your team... I shall commit this curious phenomenon to memory. It had less than a 1 percent probability of occurring, you know."

this culminates in a really interesting interaction between him and courtney after the delta episode. While It's pretty clear that Maxie cares for his team and especially his admins, he definitely struggles when faced with his crying admin, and being unsure of what to say, he settles with a numerical quantifier again.

He assesses the situation, and decides to comment on how MUCH courtney is crying. His "paying attention to even the smallest details" trait also ties into this habit of his, and is probably why he jumps to conclusions a little too early because of small things he's noticed. Accusing Tabitha of wanting his spot as leader, just because he disagreed with him is one of those situations.

Pokemon Masters EX has a lot of new scenes with Maxie, and I would love to talk all day about them, but I'll just pick out one here, and that's from the "A pasio Spectacle" event. In this event, Maxie overhears team break members simply say the word 'glasses' and instantly jumps to the conclusion that not only did they want to talk to him, but that they noticed his "magnificent mega glasses" and would like to hear a lecture on how they were scientifically made.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZmmaf9bhD8&t=144s here's a link to watch it, its worth it :D He certainly picks up on small details, but tends to miss the bigger picture sometimes, which is fun because I believe archie tends to do the opposite. Perhaps his mega glasses are actually designed to reflect this, because they work like horse blinders, and keep maxie looking straight ahead (trust me, I've made a pair of these, and you cannot see someone standing to your immediate side). Looking straight ahead is also relevant to his life goal, of ensuring the bright future of humanity, and as he says: "propel humanity to greater heights of progress and evolution." And that concludes my infodump regarding this one little bio that is no longer available without the wayback machine, and I just wanted to share it with any other Maxie fans out there :D Next I think I might tackle the bigger topic of how Archie and Maxie have so many fun contrasts in personality and more. and then maaayyybe I'll feel comfortable enough sharing my headcannons and theories. But only if people want more lol, I am not good at writing big posts :>

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Charlie

Hi my name is Charlie, I would like to be transformed into any man you want. But not an object please. I am 26 yo, 170cm tall with a slim twink body. I have white skin, blue eyes and short dark hair.

You hesitate slowly before putting the envelope into the box. It is not that you are unhappy with who you are, but somehow, the thought of becoming someone else is oddly interesting to you. With a silent thud, the letter falls into the box - it's done now, and you can't retrieve it.

The shady online ad had promised that changing your body was not only possible, but really easy to do, too. All you had to do was write a letter to the company and they would care for the rest. To be honest, you don't really believe in all that. It was scientifically unlikely that anyone had developed a technology to change bodies - let alone at a distance knowing nothing more than your name. But still, you had been curious enough to try it.

So, you composed a lengthy letter, describing exactly who you are and what you want changed. That you are happy with your slim build but would like to change certain details. For example, your dark hair could be a bit more interesting. And your butt could be a bit juicier. Oh, and if they shaved one or two years off, leaving you at 22 again, that would certainly not hurt.

It's not like you are old, not even having hit 30 yet, but the gay community was somewhat superficial - picking up guys had been easier a few years ago.

You even attached a picture to your letter showing how you look right now.

What you didn't do though, is read the description of the ad thoroughly. Instead of monetary compensation, they reserved the right to choose your transformation. All the details you worked out for your change will ultimately be in vain - and you are entirely at the mercy of a faceless internet company, having unknowingly sealed a contract that grants them all rights on your physical appearance.

Of course, you know nothing of that. After having put in the letter, you head back home and fix yourself a salad before heading to bed early.

Over the course of the next few days, absolutely nothing happens and soon, you have already forgotten the strange ad and the letter you sent. You continue to live your life without knowing your letter has been dispatched, delivered and processed at its destination. Until, a good week later, suddenly, your face feels itchy. Thinking nothing you scratch at the itchy spot, but the itching returns a few moments later.

When you touch your chin again to scratch it again, your hands meet an unfamiliar feeling. There are short, bristly hairs on your chin! But that's impossible! You never grow a beard, and you distinctively remember being entirely smooth this morning. You quickly rush to the bathroom to have a look in the mirror and almost can't believe your eyes:

There is a clearly visible five o' clock shadow in your face, looking alien and ill-fitting. But it's definitely there. When you touch the short hairs again, you can feel the short hairs bend slightly to your touch. They are dark and clearly visible against your skin. This is definitely *your* stubble! You are growing a beard!

Suddenly, you remember the letter. But that can't be, can it? You certainly didn't wish for a beard! Perhaps this is some kind of side-effect?

You have a closer look at your face, searching for further changes. You notice a dirty spot on your cheek.

Has this been there a minute ago? You try to rub it off but only manage to smear it across your face. You try again, this time with water, but as you look up, you find the dark smear having spread all over your face. Even worse, when you try to wash it off, only some of it comes off. The rest of the dark muddy dirt seems to have seeped into your skin and has made it darker than before, like a tan.

You can even watch the tan spreading in the mirror. Going down your quite hairy chin onto your neck and disappearing into your shirt at the collarbone.

Quickly, you try to wriggle out of your shirt, only to find that surprisingly difficult. When you finally manage to do so, you understand why at once: Your body has bulked up considerably! Your torso that has darkened with the spreading tan and is also covered with stubbly dark hair is way more muscular than before. Your shoulders are broader, and your entire frame is... bulky to say the least. There is not much left from your original slim and twinky body. By the second, you're becoming buffer and darker. When you look back into the mirror, your face reminds you nothing of what it was! It even appears as if you have actually gained a few years, putting you at least past the mark of 30.

This is impossible! You have to stop that. You need to call the company right now!

With that thought, you rush to your laptop and try to remember the company name. Artificial something was it, right? Transformation? No, wait. Transmutation. That's it. You start entering the company name into the search engine but find it increasingly difficult to do so. You do know how to type, of course, but your hands are getting bigger and less precise. When you finally hit enter, the search engine lists the results.

Or, at least you think it does. You blink once, squint your eyes and blink again. You can clearly read the letters on the screen, but the composition makes no sense at all. It's like trying to read an entirely different language. But that can't be! English is your mother tongue, you should be able to read it clearly. Instead, you only recognize very few simple words. "and" for example, or "I".

It's no use. You have lost the ability to read English. But certainly, you can read another language? You try not to think about anything as you type a new query in the address bar of the browser.

Well, good news is that you can read the texts again when the site loads. It's clearly Spanish that you have no problem understanding. But instinctively, you have entered a porn site. Gay porn, to be precise - good. At least this hasn't changed.

Just looking at the pictures makes your cock grow in your pants. And grow. And grow. When you look down at your lap, you recognize a massive beast of burden that certainly wasn't there before, either. Curiously, you unzip your pants and are greeted by a large, throbbing, uncut cock, framed by dark curly pubic hair. Of course, in your old body you always shaved your pubic hair neatly. However, here it's ungroomed and a dark contrast to your tanned brown-ish skin. With the cock that has sprung free, you also freed a cloud of musky smell. The manly smell of unwashed groin and sweat, along with traces of piss and precum.

Without thinking, you take a deep breath and then another one. That smells good, you decide, and your throbbing cock agrees. You grab your large cock with your large hand and start a video with your left one.

As you watch the manly figures on the screen fucking each other, your quickly start to move your hand up and down your length, too. A deep, rumbling sound escapes your throat and soon, your heavy balls begin to churn. You are going to cum!

The thought makes your head spin, and you quickly aim your cock at your laptop's screen. Your mind is so overwhelmed with lust, it's not like you can even think anymore. When your first rope of cum lands on the screen, splashing all over the photos, the second shot flies even further and lands in a pool of white semen on the keyboard.

Huffing and panting, you slowly regain clarity. God damnit, you didn't really do *that*, right?

Worse enough that you snuck into your clients home and used his laptop to watch porn, no. Now your sticky cum is slowly running down the screen and dripping under the keys. There's no way you’re able to clean this up properly.

Awkwardly, you use your shirt to wipe over the laptop superficially. Still, there is a clearly visible spot of dried cum on the screen and the keys will be sticky to operate. You briefly consider cleaning the machine with water but don't want to damage it.

It's no use. You just hope your client won't notice until you are gone. On that note, you quickly make your way back into the garden, resuming your work in the heat of the summer, only clad in a short pair of shorts that accentuates your huge Mexican cock.

Gone is Charlie the twink. Your new life is Carlos, the dumb and randy Mexican gardener.

What is this? A "Transformation Letter"? Yes, you heard right! Over at my riot page, you can send transformation letters that will change your life forever. The only catch? You can't choose what you will become. Carlos here is certainly changed a lot, but not like he intended. Would you be luckier if you tried? Head over to the instructions to try your luck!