#like the question if you would fuck an identical version yourself if you could

[anonygowose]

Am I the only person horrendously weirded out by selfcest???

I see SO much Artificer (RW) selfcest, shipping Arti before and after the incident with the pups and..... why....? Just. Eugh.

I do not understand the appeal of romanticizing a character with themself? It's just kinda gross imo? Tags will have more opinions :/

[mewtwoandme]

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

[thewertsearch]

You've got to be shitting me. Does this wallet even have a size limit?

It's starting to feel like, when the Act ends, John could just pocket the entire session and leave. At the very least, the kids will no trouble bringing their houses to the reboot session.

Hell, they might even be able to bring their Lands.

[...] you wonder where all of her sweet weapons went.

Fuck! We needed those needles!

...wait, no, we don't. The bunny's weapons are from the future, so there's also a present version of the Quills floating around, just like Ahab's Crosshairs. Presumably we'll be using those Quills to cause the Scratch, and the Pen-Pal will get his hands on them later.

Actually, it could be really bad if John used the future version of the Quills. That would cause a true paradox, where the Pen-Pal obtains a set of Quills that he's already sent back in time. The needles would be trapped in an infinite loop, and they'd never have come from Echidna in the first place.

Speaking of the Pen-Pal, it seems like he’s got some more to say. Let’s see if he gives us any more clues as to his identity.

You see i adapted terry with some doodads you may deem practical. An infinitesimalator which i used to littlefy them down in the first place as well as a monstrositifier for when you would like to hugen them up and wield them yourself! [...] I borrowed this technology from my grandmother who had quite the way with manipulating space. Legend tells she was something of a witch with the stuff!

More of the same, really. He certainly seems convinced that Jade's his grandmother - but I still don't think that makes sense.

First of all, for someone who's supposedly Jade's grandson, he sure doesn't mention any of her friends. We’ve already talked about how strange it is that he doesn’t know John, and that was before we learned that God Tiers are semi-immortal.

Sure, maybe John died heroically - but he also speaks about future Jade in the past tense. Like every other character, Pen-Pal is presumably thirteen, so Jade can't have been that old. So now John didn't survive the session, and Jade did, but she apparently died young anyway?

Also, another question. Why did Pen-Pal need to build the bunny? After all, he should be surrounded by Players with endgame alchemy setups, unless you're telling me that none of the kids or the trolls are involved in his life.

What, did they all die? Was he kidnapped as a baby? Do all Alchemiters explode when you exit the Medium? The more I think about this guy, the more confused I get, and it's great.

[dairy-farmer]

I sneak back in~☆ with more of my Ideas~☆ tis me Again~

You know what's GREAT? Along with all that villian tech and magic? Canonical Multiverse. Oh my, oh my~ Such OPTIONS we have todaaaay~ >:Dc

Because? Is it really YOUR son? If he's from a different reality, has a different history, you didn't raise him, and you technically met yesterday? Same name, face, and dna... but? IS THAT YOUR SON, BATMAN?

Or is that an ethically sourced Tim Puss? Or other bits. We ain't judging, Multiverse is large and in some of those you're sentient fish! Go nuts! Just be respectful. Not on the dinner table ffs.

And! In the inevitable Bat Adventures of Various Bat Peoples(tm)? They are GOING to cross realities! Some times you go to their's, some times they come to you. Sometimes it's your hypothetical great×5 Grandbaby with a STILL alive Ra's AL Ghul. Sometimes a Robot. Occasionally they are Evil(tm).

But! Do? You? Fuck?

CAN you? These are the questions! An ethical debate for the ages! Tim says? A Strong Maybe! What is he working with, here? *various outraged noises from his family* WHAT, they aren't HIS family! It's not like he'd sleep with YOU guys. *various conflicted noises*

Like? Clearly not, if they're Evil. Or like... physically incompatible... Or the world needs saving? He DOES have his priorities straight. But like.... Strong Maybe!

But you know what that Tim has? Thousands of other NEARLY identical versions of him. Spanning the Multiverse. All juuuuust slightly off in one way or another. Different choice here. Breakfast was skipped there. Likes tea instead of energy drinks yonder. AND? All have that "someone should probably have been supervising me" Feral spark~

Tim gets Horny. Maybe he and his team pulled a successful mission. Thwarted a Multiversal threat. Wooo! We're young and unsupervised! Beer! Pizza! Making out! WITH EACH OTHER! Thank God we're not dead!!!

But thing is? Tim is a horny drunk. He is... mostly unaware of this. It's apparently just a beer thing. He doesn't like the taste so he's never really drunk them. He's giggly. Wants to fuck. Kon is already asleep. Sad face. Wait.... WAIT! He has a BRILLIANT Idea! He stumbles to his feet. To his room. Ah HA! His "I'm Looooonely~ 🥺" Sexy Photos! Perfect.

He stumbles back. Digs out the Multiverse device. His drunk little mind not stopping to consider this might be a PHENOMENALLY stupid idea. After all... His Kon asleep. Other Kon's not maybe? Sexy sex for Timmy. Mmmm, Sex. His logic, is of course, FLAWLESS. He's gonna do it!

He inputs his photos as an info package, restricts to humanoid realities, clarifies "Evil guys, DNI" because OBVIOUSLY they will honor that, and recognize they are in fact Evil, instead of Misunderstood Heros. Then adds he would like to fuck, Multiverse tech obviously required, then to REALLY seal the deal a saucy " ;) ".

It's PERFECT. He's a GENIUS. Gonna... gonna get SO LAID. He hits send. Goes to get ready for Other Kon. Forgets, gets himself off, and goes to sleep.

DOESN'T REMEMBER TO TELL ANYONE.

It goes EXACTLY as you think it does. They get fucking INVADED by randos. All of whom are thirsting for Batman's son. Many of whom ARE Batman. Some are Kon. Some Superman. There are alternative Tim's. Apparently Go Fuck Yourself is the hot new craze. Tim is super, mega, ULTRA grounded.

But it's also damn near impossible to prevent Batmen from just... stepping into whatever room he's in. From their own reality. Bruce is at his wits end. The fuckers keep fucking and trying to carry off his baby boy. He doesn't CARE if you lost your own! Or never had one! Or yours hates you! Or WHAT! UNHAND THE TIM SON! *extreme violence*

And Dick? Inches from a nervous break down. All these PERVERTS keep coming to MOLEST his brother! Including versions of HIM! Selfs! How COULD YOU!? You don't even plan to ROMANCE him! No dinner or dances or romantic dates! Just fuck him on the floor and stuff a baby in him! *incredible violence* *somewhere... Deathstroke feels weirdly thrilled... huh*

Both Jason and Damian of course are LEARNING some stuff about themselves. Mostly from beating Alt-Selfes off with whatever on hand. Damian especially is having A Time of it. How DARE himselfs make him Realize Drake Is Hot! You magnificent BASTARDS!

Jason is hearing a lot of Husband this and Babyboy that and.... you... you KINKY MOFO with your TENDER EMOTIONS need to cut this shit RIGHT OUT! So help him he will shoot you! RIGHT IN THE DICK.

And of course Kon was all *sees like a bazillion of himself show up when Tim Puss was offered* Yeah this Tracks. I understand completely. *Sees CLARKS showing up* *slow head turn of Death towards his Clark* .....Something you wanna tell me? :) Clark? :)

Lois standing on his other side, who ALSO did the Head Turn: Yeah, honey :) Something you need to get off your chest? :)

Clark, innocent but still cold sweating : Please remember that they are probably Evil. I have a LOT of messed up Alternative Selfs out there. Love you, honey. And I would NEVER.

Just? The unending parade of Multiverse Booty calls? Showing and rocking Timmy's world before he can get a word in edgewise? This poor Tim has already been caught like five times this week and it's only Wednesday? Every chases them off... but poof! New one! Fucked again! Nearly carried off while fucked out and drooling, AGAIN! The best minds on the planet scrambling to fix Timmy's drunk booty call!

He can't patrol, can barely get work down, barely has time to SLEEP. Has woken UP to being fucked by HIMSELF. And a Kon. AND three separate Bruce's. Sometimes multiples show up! Sometimes they SHARE!

Do you have ANY idea how hard it is to argue with men lovingly holding you as they make you orgasm stupid? Hard! Tim keeps LOSING! He can't even walk straight. He's GOO. Fucked out, cum stuffed, GOO.

Dear God his birth control better work or he is DEFINITELY pregnant at this point.

And? In the chaos? Tell me there isn't the chance that his actual fam don't... consider it. With so many versions of themselves popping in and out? Just add then remove an alteration to their costume... no one but them would ever know.

Just? Imagine the chaos~~☆

"ethically sourced Tim Puss" 😭😭😭😭😭 that's the funniest line i've ever read!!! and yessssss!!!!!!!!! this idea!!!!! i love it so much!!!!!!! i've absolutely mused the thought of it before!!! the idea that bruce uses the 'it's not technically incest if it's not MY tim' loophole!!!!!

tim being both a horny and stupid little drunk is so good!!! he definitely has 'lonely night' photos of himself in nothing but tiny little seee through panties and underwear or in nothing but socks and lip gloss. he sends them to kon when he's horny and wants to fuck and now he's using a multiverse outfitted computer to mass send out an email from his dimension with attatched photos like he's a pop ad from a porn site 'like his tits? fuck him today!'

the email will be easily traceable to his dimension to any kon with dimensional tech which is what tim banks on while drunk. but then tim stumbles away and forgets about his photo ladden email and open invitation to fuck. he manages to make it to his room and sloppily stuffs a few fingers into his dripping pussy and clumsily rubs at his clit until his toes are curling and he manges to drunkenly cum. it's not long before he passes out from the combination of alcohol and the bit of satisfaction from masturbating.

in the morning tim's hangover pounds against his head along with the intruder alert alarm which cuts out mere seconds after starting. it's not until he hears his bedroom door sliding open that he looks up to see kon in uniform standing at his doorway and staring at him.

tim's in a simple tshirt and no panties with his legs spread on his messy bed. kon is in full armor though...one of his older suits with the blue accents for some reason.

he's also staring at tim pretty heavily. in the sort of way he's very familiar with because tim can see that heady desire in kon's eyes and knows what's next.

the rest of the titans, kon included, find tim in his room getting wonderfully fucked by his not-kon(?).

thankfully tim gets to cum before they kick that superboy out. they brief tim about how the justice league, batcave, and other hero teams have reported disturbances and anomalies typically seen with dimensional travel and given that the titans just finished kicking some multiverse butt they should probably prepare for another...attack.

only...it seemed like that dimensional traveler had other ideas.

they go to that dimensional laptop they confiscated and very quickly find tim's original email because they are receiving hundreds of interested replies.

it's a hellish week for everyone and tim has absolutely been scolded and reprimanded numerous times. usually after each near kidnapping is avoid because tim keeps getting tracked down and fucked by different versions of horny kons, other tim's, TONS of batmen, nightwing, redhood, and robins.

other bats are typically the ones behind the kidnapping attempts. one nightwing confessed to tim while pumping his cock into tim's poor little hole that his tim hasn't spoken him in years and this was the only chance he'd ever get to forage some connection and feel tim's touch again. red hood is apparently lonely because his 'wife' is away on a space mission and those photos were so teasing and pushed him over the edge. damian apparently wants to know what teenage tim's pussy feels like. but bruce....oh bruce.

poor bruce is so lonely and tortured by the attraction he feels for his son. and then comes tim's pictures. such temptation. such willingness to be fucked by anyone and anything including his father in a different dimension and all of them have problems with their tims.

there are no tims in their dimension, they had a falling out with their tims and don't talk anymore, or their tim has passed away and left them with these horribly compex unresolved feelings and its only through fucking tim that they'll be able to finally move on with their lives.

of course some of those batmen aren't satisfied with the one time deal and attempt to abduct tim who is all woozy and half passed out from orgasms through a portal to their home dimensions.

it's a very difficult week. made more difficult by the fact that tim is clearly a willing engager with many of these different dimensional travelers invading for some pussy.

every single one of the bats is desperate to get this all fixed. the only other person aside from them who wants this all to go away is clark whose marriage and relationship with his sort of clone-son is now on the rocks because more than a few alternate supermen have shown up looking to answer tim's email and fuck his womb full of kryptonian cum. one of them even dug clark's hole even deeper by mentioning how he's curious to see if this tim drake's womb will be just as receptive to kryptonian seed as his own.

and he said it in FRONT of both kon and lois who are now both very angry with clark is so very innocent and he swears that he's never once thought of sweet little tim like that!!! in fact clark was pretty sure tim was the only one of the bats and one of the few capes that genuinely disliked him!!!!!

the fact that tim doesn't blatently reject the superman that whistle and fly past the action, their suits bulging with their erections does nothing to help clark's case.

truly if there is any victim in this entire case-aside from tim's family who are currently in the crisis working the concept of fucking tim out of their system by actually fucking tim- it is clark.

poor sweet clark who, genuinely, has done nothing wrong the entire time.

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Belphie

Part One of A New Series

Question One: If you were the last person on Earth, how would you spend your time?

After catching up on sleep, I'd probably just walk around and see what I could find.

Question Two: If there was one day you could repeatedly re-experience, which day would you choose?

The day that MC kissed me for the first time.

Question Three: Can you describe yourself in three words?

Tired, angsty emo.

Question Four: If you wake up tomorrow and forgot your name and/or identity, what would you do?

Go back to sleep, honestly.

Question Five: Who are you, really?

Ask Beel and MC.

Question Six: If you could live in a different time period or era in the human world, which one would you choose and why?

None, because they all suck. Unless I could take MC with me, which in that case, I'd go wherever they'd want to.

Question Seven: Which is better: having superficial knowledge about a wide range of things or thorough knowledge about a few things?

The latter, but make sure it's about things no one would expect you of knowing so that you have the element of surprise.

Question Eight: If you were able to download your memories into a searchable spreadsheet, would you do it?

There are some things that are best left buried deep in the recesses of the mind, so no.

Question Nine: Would you rather float alone in space or at sea?

Whichever ensures the quickest death.

Question Ten: Would you swap places with an alternate version of yourself from another timeline?

No, because chances are, that alternate version of me is more active and hence has more responsibilities, and I am a lazy individual.

Question Eleven: If you could communicate with animals, which one would you talk to first?

Spiders.

Question Twelve: If you had the power to grant a wish to someone, who would you choose and why?

Honestly, I'd choose Simeon. He makes me look mentally stable, and I just want him to be able to relax for a little bit.

Question Thirteen: If you were lost and had just enough battery on your D.D.D. to make a single phone call, who would you call?

MC. They're the most level-headed out of everyone.

Question Fourteen: Does your life need more love, romance, friendship, or intimacy?

Intimacy.

Question Fifteen: If you could do anything you desire with MC for a day, what would it entail?

A hotel room with a charmed door and soundproof walls.

Question Sixteen: If you were on a dating game, what question(s) would you ask?

Honestly, the first question in this interview.

Question Seventeen: Would you rather spend a fancy night on a mountain or camp on the seashore?

Seashore all the way. The view's better there.

Question Eighteen: Is your life a drama, tragedy, or comedy?

It's a fucking soap opera that's gone on for far too many seasons, and I don't mean that in a depressed way, but in the way that the drama in my life is becoming more and more absurd as I get older.

Question Nineteen: Would you date an alien if you thought they were hot?

Depends.

Question Twenty: If you were a vegetable, what would you be and how would you avoid getting eaten?

I'd be horseradish, because it's one of the few foods Beel will not eat, and thus I'd ensure my survival.

Question Twenty-One: Would you rather have looks, brains, or riches?

Brains. Looks fade, and money disappears.

Question Twenty-Two: If you had to wear your emotions on your clothing, how would your outfit look today?

Like I'd rather be in bed.

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P5

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Your Adrian has finally come to rescue you.

Series Warnings: mentions of child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: Sorry for being so late. I had an incredibly busy weekend. This is also crossposted on my ao3 adriansglasses. I appreciate all your kind words so much! Hope you guys enjoy!

“Chase, we don’t even know if they’re alive.” Harcourt sighs.

“No, they have to be.” Adrian held his tension in his jaw, trying not to cry as he slammed your letter on the table.

It read:

‘Dear Adrian,

The day is September 9th, 1994. I hope you find this. I hope you find me.

Love,

(Y/N)’

“That is some pretty compelling evidence.” John egged him on.

“Thank you!” Adrian waved his arms in the air dramatically.

“It’s not safe.” Harcourt argued.

“I don’t care.” Adrian said. He didn’t have an ounce of doubt. He just wanted you back.

“Well I can’t let you go by yourself and there’s only three one way shots. What are you gonna do? Leave somebody there? Plus we don’t even know how this works! What if you never come back?” Harcourt asked.

“He’d be less of a pain in the ass if he wasn’t here.” John countered.

“Exactly!” Adrian agreed, missing John’s joke. “So if you let me go, I’ll stop talking!”

“As tempting as that offer is you’re not going.” Harcourt rolled her eyes, leaving the room. Adrian walked over to his desk, knocking over a plastic water bottle out of anger.

“Oh…fuck…sorry…” He sat down, slumping over the desk with his head in his hands. He heard whispering, but he didn’t care. The team often whispered about him. It wasn’t long before Leota approached Adrian, handing him a piece of paper. “What’s this?” He asked.

“It’s the address of the old ARGUS headquarters…ya know…just in case…” She said, mischievously.

“Didn’t they change locations in like 2002?” He asks, confused.

“Yup.” She smiled, waiting for him to understand.

“Why are you giving me a useless address? Do you need me to go pick up something from the old building for you?” He asked.

“I don’t need anything from there. I just figured you might…in case of an emergency…” He still didn’t get it, but in his defense Leota was never good at subtleties.

“What could I possibly-“

“She’s telling you to go dumbass!” Chris cut him off. Adrian’s eyes basically pop out of his head.

“I know if it was my wife I’d be going.” She smiled at him.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He engulfed her in a tight hug. Most of the team really weren’t big on hugs, but he knew Adebayo was.

“Go before Harcourt sees you.” She smiles.

Adrian takes the device from Leota and heads off.

September 12th, 1994

3 year old Adrian screamed in his bed. You sighed, taking Adult Adrian’s hand and slowly bringing him closer.

“Hey Ade, it’s okay, honey. Remember how I told you Vigilante was gonna look after you? This is him.” You smile.

“Wow! Way to go around sharing my secret identity, (Y/N)!” Adrian exclaims, not wearing his mask. You turn to him quickly and speak under your breath.

“First of all, he’s 3. He won’t remember. Even if he did, he’s literally you! It won’t matter! Also, don’t call me that. He doesn’t know my real name!” You whisper under your breath, anxiously.

“Well, how was I supposed-“ Adrian is cut off by his younger self.

“Mr. Vigiante?” He tries to get adult Adrian’s attention, still unable to pronounce the L.

“Uhhhh what’s up little m- man?” He asks, trying to avoid telling his younger self that he’s the older version. “See, I totally saved that one.” He whispers to you with a goofy grin. You missed him so badly.

Just as little Adrian is about to ask his older self tons of burning questions any 3 year old would have for a superhero, you watch Diane’s headlights cast into the room. When they hit your boyfriend’s face and you can see him a bit better you can feel your heart ache, starved of him, just needing to be with him.

“Okay Adrian, it’s time for Vigilante to go, but this is just gonna be our secret okay? If everybody finds out his secret identity, he won’t be able to go be a superhero and save people anymore. He needs our help keeping his secret. Can you do that?” You ask, hoping a toddler could understand the importance in this. You hate asking him to keep secrets, but the entire fabric of time and space depends on it. You shove Adult Adrian out of the bedroom door before his younger self can even finish saying yes. You pull him into your room and run to your closet to get a box hidden in the back corner. You bring him the box.

“This box is stuff your dad left when he moved out. There’s clothes in here. You need to ditch the suit before your mom sees.” You leave him there speechless trying to catch up with the speed and urgency. You’ve been running around with a toddler for the last couple weeks. You’ve gotten used to figuring out solutions fast. This is also probably an incredibly odd position for Adrian to be in; he’s in his old house, he’s holding his dad’s clothes, his younger self is in the next room, and his dead mom is about to walk through the door…alive. He hasn’t even had time to process Gut and Chris as middle schoolers down the hall. As you grab for the handle to your bedroom door, you spin around, running back to your boyfriend, giving him one last kiss before racing back out to his old bedroom to deal with his younger self.

“Adrian, I’ll make you a bet.” You tell him. He looks at you intrigued. Even at this young of an age he was competitive. You crawl into bed with him. “Whoever falls asleep first gets a dollar.”

“I’m so gonna win!” He giggles.

“You’re on, Mister!” You lay your head down, pretending to try to sleep. After five minutes he’s out like a light and you hear the bedroom door creaking open. You turn to see Diane’s frame illuminated by the light of the hallway. You tiptoe out of the room and close Adrian’s door.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bother either of you. I just came to check him. You’re so good with him.” She smiles.

“Oh yeah…” You laugh quietly. “Bribing the kid just to get him to sleep was awesome.” You say, sarcastically.

“Kids are hard. We all have to do our best. Honestly that dollar trick was a pretty good idea. I’ll have to try it sometime.” She laughs. “You look worn out and I brought home a bottle of cheap wine from the restaurant. What do you say we go downstairs and crack it open?” She asks. Your mind drifts back to Adrian sitting on your bed decked out in his dad’s worn out old 80’s styles.

“Honestly…you’re right. I’m feeling really worn out, but if you save some for me I promise to drink with you tomorrow night.” You smile.

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile. “Go watch tv and just unwind. You deserve it.” You bid her goodnight before trying to keep your excited legs from sprinting to your room.

Upon reaching your door you close it carefully, not wanting to slam it with all of this extra energy and wake up the boys.

“All set?” Adrian asks. You can’t hide your wide smile. You start to tear up at even just the sound of his voice.

“Nothing else is gonna keep me away from you right now.” You laugh, excited as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Not even time and space.”

You crawl into bed with him and he wipes the tear.

“You’re happy crying, right? Like that’s- that’s good crying I don’t have to stop, right?” He clarifies. You nod, cuddling into him, not trusting that if you open your mouth a sob won’t come out.

“Come here.” He sighs in relief pulling your body closer. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“It’s just so hard to believe this isn’t just another dream.” You whisper through a series of voice cracks.

“No, it’s real. I’m here and I’m not letting you go this time. I’m gonna bring you home.” He kisses your forehead.

“I don’t care. I’m already home. Home is wherever you are.” You kiss again.

You try to go to sleep, but you can’t stop telling each other about everything the other person missed. You never let your voices get above a whisper for fear that somebody will hear a strange man’s voice coming from your room.

“Ade, how did you know coming here was gonna work?” You ask.

“What do you mean?” He asks, moving hair out of your eyes, so he can better see your face.

“How did you know that using the device would get you here? How did you know you would find me and it wouldn’t just like malfunction and kill you or take you somewhere different?” You ask.

“I didn’t.” He says very matter of factly. You look at him in a mix of emotions. Briefly angry he would put himself at risk like that, then distraught thinking about losing him, then relieved he’s alive, and finally overwhelmed by how much you love him and the thought that he’d do all of this with no guarantee just to see you again. “I love you more than quite literally anything like in the entire existence and non existence and past existence and future existence all of creation ever.” You love when he rambles. You missed his rambles desperately.

“You’re my everything…not just the world, but the stars, the planets, the rocks, the beings, the water, the light, the sound… You’re everything to me Adrian.” You smile. This is the first time you’ve felt complete in the entire time that you’ve been here and tomorrow he’s going to take you home and you’re never going to have to be apart like this again. You won’t let it happen and neither will he. He starts giving you little kisses all over your face and neck and arms and hands, anywhere he can reach easily. You start giggling. “What are you doing?” You ask him.

“I have to give you a kiss for every hour we were apart.”

“But that’s like 300 hours.” You laugh.

“It’s been way longer than that.” He says before going back to kissing you. You go stiff underneath him.

“Adrian, how long has it been?” You ask, not sure you want to know the answer.

“Why? How long has it been for you?” He asks.

“It’s only been 12 days. I think you got your math wrong.” You say, hoping you’re right and that he’s still just as bad at math.

“No, I used a calculator. It was around 726 last time I checked.” His words knock the air out of your lungs. “(Y/N), you’ve been gone for like a month in our time.”

“You came after I’d been missing for a month? That- that means we- we can’t go back to a week or so after I left. We’d fuck up the whole timeline. I went missing for a month. I left you for a month- Oh my god do people think I’m dead?!” You try to control your panic, so you don’t wake up the whole house.

“Chris and John thought you might be alive, but wouldn’t explain it to me. I guess they just had a feeling and Leota didn’t know what to think. Nobody was ready to give up, but Harcourt tried to have a funeral for you to put your family at ease, but I wouldn’t let her. We got into a big fight about that.” You turn to face him, your eyes building with tears.

“Did you think I was dead?” You start to cry.

“Only for a little bit!” Adrian clarifies, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You try to hold in your sobs as your body shakes with emotion. Your friends, your family, and the love of your life, at one point all thought you were dead.

“Okay you’re doing your sad crying face and your panicked breathing now, but it’s okay. You’re safe and I’m safe and I’m here and tomorrow I’m gonna take you home and we are never getting separated like this again, okay?” He tries to reassure you, slowly rubbing your back. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He reassures you, but he’s also reassuring himself.

“If I was gone for a month and you thought I was dead, how did you find me?” You cuddle impossibly closer to him.

“Well that’s just because I have the smartest partner in the entire world and they actually left me letters.” He smiles. “I’m talking about you.” He clarifies. “Just in case you thought I had a different partner which I definitely do not because even if you were dead I’m not sure if I’d ever get over you and-“ You cut him off with a kiss.

“It wasn’t that smart. I got the idea from an episode of Torchwood.” You smile.

“That’s okay. That wasn’t the reason. I just always think you’re the smartest partner in the world.” You look at him as a light blush starts to dust both of your cheeks.

“Well then we both have smart partners I guess.” You kiss him again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

You both say it like you’re starved because neither of you deep down was entirely certain you’d get to say it again.

“I know we should get some sleep, but…”

“But what?” He asks. You sigh.

“Is it stupid I keep worrying myself that this is all just a dream and I’ll wake up?” You ask.

“That’s okay I’m worried I fucked up trying to get here and this is all some weird concussion hallucination or I’m in a coma or I’m like dead or something. That would like really suck actually.” You take his hand and put it on your pulse.

“Feel that? I’m real.” You place your own fingers on his pulse too. “And you’re alive.” You add smiling. “And as long as we’re together I think everything’s gonna be alright, right? Let’s get some sleep.”

You move, so you’re using his chest as a pillow. Being close is the only way either of you will sleep tonight.

[resident-problem]

I really wish that they'd made the Qun more obvious in Taash's story. It's never really specified, but I think it's the driving force behind a lot of what's happening/happened.

When Shathan brings up Aqun-Athlok, it feels like there was room for a dialogue about how even that is binary. I really wish that they could’ve engaged in a discussion there, so Taash could say something to Shathann about not fitting into a binary. They could even use Qunari ideas to talk about it! Like Taash loves to fight ("male" role), but they also have an extensive knowledge of dragons and study them ("female" role). But it doesn't seem like Taash was even aware of Aqun-Athlok before Shathann brought it up, so I'm immediately ringing alarm bells there.

(Break because this is really long, but that's the really short version of what I wanted to say, lol)

On that note, it seems like Shathann has either been blissfully unaware of Taash's struggle with their role/gender, or (and I think this is more likely) Shathan has been deliberately ignoring Taash in that regard. She's seen her child struggling with their identity and knows that it's specifically gender/role related because she's brought up the fact that her "daughter" seems to act more like a man. She's so comfortable with her feelings that Taash is somehow "wrong" that she's willing to bring it up to Rook, a complete fucking stranger!! Right in front of Taash, as if Taash is the one in the wrong here! She doesn't even seem to have brought up the concept of Aqun-Athlok before. When she's informed by Taash that they're non-binary, only then does she mention it. It's especially vile considering that Shathann is a scholar (ashkaari?) and would almost definitely know about it. Not that it's a solution, but it's at least an acknowledgement of Taash's feelings, instead of a complete disregard for them.

Which is also why I think that ending chosen for Shathann makes no goddamn sense. The last time we see Shathann is the dinner scene. Where, yet again, she's trying to put Taash in a tidy box. She's not willing to try and understand Taash's perspective outside of her own understanding of the Qun and how that informs her worldview. When she's (sort of, it's not outright) called on that by Taash (who's also having trouble expressing themselves at all because of how Shathann raised them) she just leaves, with no further attempt at dialogue. Time and time again, she refuses to listen to Taash and continually demeans them in front of Rook. You'd think this is ridiculous because Shathann is a scholar, and as a scholar, you're also supposed to have a healthy curiosity to learn? New? Things? Which is when the Qun again comes into play, but subtly. In a society that demands strict roles and absolute obedience, there is no room for anything other than just that. So obviously, Shathann expects that from Taash as well, leaving no room for any understanding of the world other than the Qun.

Knowing that, it also frames Taash and some of their behaviours (which I've seen being misinterpreted as being rude or disrespectful) in a whole new light. Shathann has continually forced her own beliefs onto Taash. Forcing them to see the world through Shathann's interpretation of the Qun, so when Taash leaves and sees a new world that is accepting and understanding, it would be very hard to go back to how things were with their mother. They've found themselves and been accepted for it, so why can't their mother also be like that, too?

Shathann is also a terrible teacher. From the way Taash talks about her, it seems like there wasn't much room for questions, which then led to Taash having some misinterpretations of their own. For example, the concept of Shokra Toh Ebra seems to have been poorly explained if Taash's interpretation was "you must struggle with yourself" rather than "you must struggle to find yourself." The scene where Taash quietly says that they misunderstood the Qun stuff again and makes it sound like it was their fault broke my goddamn heart man. Like that's not your fault!! It just isn't!! That's on your teacher who, again, probably would have known you misunderstood it and should've corrected you! But Shathann didn't because she expected obedience rather than understanding.

I think it would've been more narratively fulfilling to have that conversation between them. Have the SCHOLAR LEARN something from TAASH instead of her telling Taash what is right. Maybe they have that discussion earlier. Just when they've fixed things between them and they're both happy for a while, that's when the Dragon King comes in and destroys everything. That way, when Shathann makes that final statement, it means something. A final "I love you" rather than finishing an unfinished story at the last possible second and moving on.

So why, then, does Shathann just accept everything out of nowhere? We never see any growth from her whatsoever! She's just magically accepting of Taash at the last fucking second and then she dies. You could make an argument that it was a last second thing and that all she cared about was letting Taash know they were loved, but I don't like how that lets Shathann off the hook for all the crap she did. This is usually how this style of sacrifice is used. So she died, and all is forgiven? Using the heroic sacrifice here makes no sense because Taash's is a story of growth and not letting other people define them. So why have Shathann die here? It serves no purpose, it's not a driving force for something, and it's not fulfilling to Shathann's story, which is not only about keeping her child safe, it's also about her being a scholar and how she sees the world through the Qun. It takes away her agency as a character. We never get to see her growth beyond her dying declaration. We never get to see her learn.

It really feels like they had no idea what they were doing with Taash's story and just gave up last second because having Shathann die was easier than doing literally anything else. She has this big declaration that she accepts Taash, and there's nothing for it. It leaves both Taash and the narrative off balance because both they and the player never get to see that growth from Shathann.

[thriftdyke]

question: would you fuck your clone?

follow up questions:

if you fuck your clone, is it incest,

and also, is it gay?

my answers to these questions, should you ask-

is yes,

no,

and

obviously.

I’m not embarrassed to say it: I want to fuck my clone. I want to fuck my clone SO bad.

not because i think i’m hot shit, but because i believe if i fucked my clone i would know

exactly

what to do.

a luxury I am rarely afforded,

where every sexual situation feels like a card game whose instructions i tuned out, praying the rules would become evident

but suddenly there’s spoons involved, and slapping,

and shouting SPIT! -

imagine how much easier it would be

if all you had to do

was fuck yourself.

i’m sick of this uncanny valley of dating apps

full of mannequin-people who watch The Office

who are either too ernest or not ernest enough,

like is it really too much to ask for

to find someone with a

brain-rotted, irony-laden, three-layers-removed-from reality sense of humor

but an honest, open, unscarred heart of gold?

enter: my clone

enter: the version of me i like to think i am, but would swipe left on

because she’s SO out of my league.

enter: the version of myself i really am, but wouldn’t recognize if she slapped me through the mirror, because

you’re telling me when other people see me,

I look like that?

if i met me, i’m pretty sure i’d avoid me, but then i’d be in bed at night, like

will she text me back?

you see, everyone asks you if you would fuck your clone,

but the lesser asked question is if you would have compatible attachment styles with your clone.

to which I’d say,

honey, i wouldn’t even be able to look my clone in the eye.

not to mention the fact that both me and my clone are bottom-ass bitches, like,

no way is either of us is making the first move,

and if she tried

i would doubt her intentions,

immediately shrink away and tell her it could never work,

that my body is going to be disappointing, even for someone with the same one,

that i probably can’t

even make her come.

i’d tell her I can’t be what she needs

and i’m afraid if i loved her,

i’d never let her leave,

and i can’t do that to her. she deserves to be free.

she’s the person who’d know me better than anyone else,

but i never learned

how to love myself.

if my clone sat down in front of me with a rose picked

from the gardens of memory, held my hand

gently, tracing the scar she knows better

than the back of her own,

if she looked up at me,

blue eyes shining fractals of identity,

dark circles familiar as the

melody of every night i prayed for one person to understand me,

if she told me everything I wanted to hear

that she sees how I keep myself from falling apart,

that she knows all my songs and gets all my art,

i’d look away -

let go -

and break her heart.

[bashirs]

when juxtaposed with a human character like sisko especially, julian is almost culturally defined by his lack of culture. we can quite safely assume he's english based on the casting for him and his dad, holosuite stuff, and scattered details (plus i believe it's confirmed in supplemental canon) but unless i'm forgetting something, he doesn't outright tell us in any capacity. he definitely doesn't have an established hometown or anything. sure he's attached to earth more generally in a lot of ways, he's well-versed in classic literature and geography and he likes centuries-old history if only on a superficial level, but he still can't trace his own family tree back three generations. i would blame the writers not knowing what the fuck to do w him for half of julian's characterization (and lack thereof) so of course i'm cheering for anyone who wants to fill in the gaps by projecting onto him, but you really do have to make things up yourself because there's next to nothing actually there.

it's worth confronting the real-life side of ds9 leaving julian as a very generic "probably second or third-ish generation immigrant from somewhere in the swana region but maaaaybe south asia, who knows" type guy. and i do think it's questionable for the majority white writing team to have not even tried to give the character any sort of ethnic background. but when julian is a dishwashed version of british on top of that, he's most often an everyman who happens to have an RP accent and not be white, for better or worse. in more than one interview, alexander siddig has reflected on the fact he wasn't really thinking much abt his own cultural/racial identity in the '90s (and how he was then suddenly forced to post-9/11) and i think that was mirrored in julian. but even since then, siddig has politely declined to give his two cents on julian's ethnicity at least once, so at this point the genericness is arguably a semi-intentional facet of the character.

considering this again within the four walls of the story, julian is interested in all sorts of things including what other planets have going on culturally, so you can't chalk his cluelessness up to fundamental lack of curiosity. i can't imagine the nature of his relationship with his parents would've made him especially eager to connect with any heritage he may have otherwise had, but i think it's still more than that. so finally, i want to briefly consider garak as his foil: garak has to advertise his cardassian-ness because he's in exile, he's fundamentally failed at being cardassian and he's trying aggressively to cover it up because if he's not cardassian, then what the fuck is he? julian, on the other hand, may not want to draw too much attention to his own humanity because he's also fundamentally failed at being human in some sense but he hasn't been figured out yet.

luckily for him, star trek's earth is hyper-globalized and he probably wouldn't be an outlier for his absence of strong geocultural identity. and with the combination of the aforementioned factors, you could argue (from a purely in-universe standpoint) that it's even more than him just not caring – julian is obscuring this shit on purpose.

[gay-otlc]

Hello I'm tired as shit but the Disk Horse is stressing me out so I am going to make a post about it. Cultural Christianity. Let's fucking go. Fair warning this is very long and rambly but whatever.

For context I am an atheist(?) Jew.

I can honestly see both sides of the argument. I definitely see how some people might abuse the term to invalidate atheists' struggles. On the other hand, it's a useful term to describe the way many (not all! not even a majority!) atheists still carry harmful beliefs from their Christian upbringing, which often results in bigotry towards non-Christian religions.

Also, I've seen a few too many posts criticizing the term that end up just criticizing Jews for me to be entirely comfortable hearing "'Culturally Christian' is a bad term and anyone who uses it is bad!"

I don't really think "culturally Christian" should be applied to an individual solely based on the fact that they're an atheist who wasn't raised with a different religion. Definitely not as a "gotcha" or like they have an irredeemable moral failing. But I don't think it's bigoted to tell an atheist "Hey, this comment you made was insensitive and likely influenced by your Christian upbringing, perhaps you should educate yourself more on this."

For example, someone in my class told me he thought religion was stupid because it teaches people to unquestioningly believe in something. As a Jew who went to Hebrew school and was allowed- sometimes even encouraged- to question my beliefs from at least as young as eight or nine (possibly before, I just can't remember), that was laughably false.

I told him that wasn't true, he just thought it was true because Christianity had been his only exposure to religion so far and he saw all other religions as basically identical to it.

I had every right to say that to him. He was an asshole for telling me my religion was stupid, especially considering this conversation started because I mentioned reading Maus.

However, if I told an atheist that no matter how much they educated themself, they would always be a bigoted, watered down version of a Christian? Than I would be the asshole.

I'm not sure cultural Christianity is really the best term, just because of how broad it is. There's no clear, agreed open definition*- some people use it to mean someone who actively believes Christian values minus the god part, some people use it to to mean people who secularly celebrate Christmas, some people use it to mean anyone who was raised Christian, regardless of whether they've unlearned those beliefs. *of course there's no clear agreed upon opinion, it's commonly used by jews and we can't agree on anything ever lmao

And "culture" can include so many things. I generally prefer to pinpoint what aspect of Christian culture I'm talking about rather than just saying "cultural Christianity."

For example, if I'm talking about atheists who were only ever really exposed to Christianity, I might say "atheists who think every religion is basically the same as Christianity," and talk about how this isn't much different from Christians who want other religions to assimilate and want us to be exactly like them or close enough that they can pretend we're exactly like them.

Or if I'm talking about, like, moral purity and sex negativity and whatever, I might say "atheists who otherwise still hold/haven't unlearned Christian beliefs"

Or if I'm talking about aggressive atheists who want everyone else to be atheist too, I might say they copied and pasted Christian proselytizing and just changed a few words. "Everyone must believe in my god (or lack thereof) to be a good person, and everyone who believes in a different god (or lack thereof) is an immoral sinner/bigot."

And I don't think any of those descriptions could be interpreted in good faith as an attack on atheism in general.

"Culturally Christian atheist" just doesn't give a whole lot of specific information on someone's beliefs, what beliefs are harmful, and how they're harmful. Two people might both fit someone's definition of culturally Christian, and be wildly different in how they view religion and the world in general.

My friend has Christian parents and went to church as a kid, has been an atheist for about as long as I've known him, and is really cool about other religions! He's interested in hearing me talk about Judaism and thinks our customs are neat, he just doesn't personally follow any religion. And I have another friend with Christian parents who went to church as a kid who makes "sky daddy" jokes and mocks the idea of prayer.

Both of these friends would qualify as culturally Christian, but it wouldn't make much sense to lump them together when describing how their beliefs affect minority religions.

Not every single religious person has to specify the exact type of culturally Christian atheist they're referring to every time they mention the topic. It functions to get the point across, and I don't see a problem with someone complaining to a friend saying "I hate it when I meet queer people and all the culturally Christian atheists hate me for being an observant Jew." But in a more serious discussion, I think addressing the specific issue is more helpful than just saying "cultural Christianity."

And if the specific issue is that you think someone is inherently bad for being atheist, or for being non-[insert your religion here], you're being a dick. Don't use "culturally Christian" if that's the only thing they've done wrong.

Also. I know this discourse has been around for a while but it seems to have really exploded today (technically yesterday in my timezone. January 27. Whatever) and it's kinda shitty that there are so many people attacking this term, often used by Jews to talk about antisemitism, on Holocaust Remembrance Day. The timing kinda pisses me off idk.

These are my thoughts. I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts but refrain from being an asshole.

[manta-rise]

The Birth of Venus (12th of august,2022, 3am) (very inspired by these two articles by rayne fisher-quann)

Ever since I was young, I think the only thing I truly wanted to be was an influencer. How chic would it be, to be a commodified package, an identity ready to be consumed, adored and stared at, nothing more than an intricate glass figure, blown through metal pipes and melted in sweltering furnaces, coming out shiny and new. Nothing like the piece of sea glass it will become, fogged up by the tumult of the sea, or the grains of sand that disperse with the ocean’s froth, Aphrodite’s spit and blood. 

Because truly, how easy life would be. You could become a brand, a certain iced chai tea latte you always drink, a book to read, a skirt to buy, a hot celebrity boyfriend to fuck. To be desirable, but not wanted. No, you want to be me. You want to consume my identity, my money, my fame. My brand deals and my trips into Paris. You want to retreat into this identifiable form of a women, a women born from Aphrodites foam, The Birth of Venus, hung up on a wall and gazed upon. I want to morph and bend my body, my bones, my blood into that shape too. My mother almost named me Lux, after Lux Lisbon, but decided it was too tragic. I morn the girl Lux would have been, A Streetcar named Desire, A Fallen Angel, A Virgin Suicide. She would have Killed Herself Quick and not inflicted herself to this planet. But what are all these movies, all this self identifiers other than another item description. Another marketable pitch to the 16 year old girl who wants nothing more but to be seen, to be loved, to never be looked at, look at me look at me look at me look-

-That’s the answer then. Not identity, not depression not hate not love not desire just lookatmeplease or i’ll die.

-Stop whining will you. Stop performing, please, no one’s here. 

-You’re here. Isn’t that enough?

-Its not me you’re doing this for though, is it.

-Then who is it for?

-Your future reader, don’t be stupid, you wrote this question after you knew the answer.

-if I keep it to myself, and I never show this to anyone ever, does it count then? No reader. Does it become me if I don’t show it to anyone? Or does it only become true, becomes me, if someone else know? If someone else sees? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound.

-You don’t know the answer to that question and you know that. Because does it truly matter who you actually are, if other people never see that? Does it exist if no one will ever see it? Sometimes you think who you truly are is someone else perception of you, because that is the only thing that is visible to the other person. And I mean, it’s someone reality, isn’t it? It’s a version of you, that’s real out there. I think that’s why so many people will use books or movies or artists to describe themselves, I think its sort of a way to show what you are truly like inside, even if its a romanticised version. I might be wrong. Maybe the only person you can be to others is just a reflection of a reflection of yourself. Or what movie you just logged onto letterboxd. But we’re supposed to be more than that.

-But who are you without the media you consume. 

-The media you create then? 

-That’s just another version of all that you’ve consumed. I mean come on now, you’ve made like at least five pop culture references (at least) already in this thing

-idk, maybe I will publish this. Maybe it will help others feel more seen, their personal (true?) self’s understood. Or at least feel better.

-you’re lying. You want to be seen.

-maybe. Maybe not. I don’t have all the answers

-shut up and go to sleep you copied this concept off Rayne Fisher-Quinn

-at least she sees me bitch. Gn.

[trans-axolotl]

Hi, I appreciate you/your blog and am sending you some warm/cozy vibes <3 Secondly, I'm wondering if you have any resources for how to get thru a welfare check interaction? Google is only showing me pro cop resources lmao. My therapist is concerned about my suicidality and wants to potentially start doing welfare checks and I'm uh freaking the fuck out about it as an autistic and trans person who hates cops. If you're followers have any tips too that would be appreciated <3

hey anon <3

I'm sorry that you're currently having to deal with this and I wish you didn't have to be in this situation. It is fucked up that your therapist is involving the cops and definitely want to validate that whatever you're feeling about that is super understandable. It can be really scary and overwhelming to think about police involvement, especially when you're marginalized.

I obviously don't know the specifics of your situation so ignore this if it isn't relevant, but I wonder if there's a community mental health crisis team that your therapist could be convinced to use for wellness checks instead of the cops. Depending on where you live, some cities have mobile response teams of crisis workers instead of cops. They still aren't perfect + usually still run a risk of involuntary hospitalization, but are often a better alternative than cops. If you want any location specific resources, feel free to send your city or state in another anon ask and I can look for things.

My other piece of advice would be to know your rights about welfare checks and involuntary hospitalization in your location, and make an intentional plan based on your own level of risk and needs. In most places in the United States, police are legally allowed to enter your house without a warrant if they're doing a welfare check, and if they think you are a danger to yourself or others they can often legally start the process of putting you in a psychiatric hold for 72 hours. This is a good website for looking up the state laws around involuntary hospitalization. When police do welfare checks, they technically aren't supposed to use it as an excuse to search your house or interrogate you. This doesn't mean that cops follow the law, but you can always try things like only talking to the cop at the door, saying no if they ask to look inside cabinets or drawers, saying that you don't want to answer specific questions, or lying about your answers to questions. You do not have to immediately agree to demands that the cops make, even if they try to lie about it being legal, threaten you, or make it seem like it's your only option.

You will definitely know yourself best, and will know best how to consider your unique needs, vulnerabilities, and identities when making a plan for dealing with police. I've had a lot of welfare checks involving the police, and I can share what I usually have done to get through them. For me, avoiding hospitalization is really important to me, and has been a very big risk for me with welfare checks in the past based on situations I was in. So the times that I've been able to prepare for police coming for a welfare check, I try to make it seem like I have a very clear safety plan and no immediate methods of hurting myself.

Content warning for mentions of self harm methods: For me that's looked like hiding all my blades places that aren't easily findable, having all my medication in a kitchen or bathroom cabinet instead of in random places in my room, not having any easily accessible weapons lying around and having a printed out version of a crisis plan that has coping skills and people who I could call listed on it. The only welfare check where I escaped hospitalization was because I lied to the police on all the questions they asked about what urges I was having, they briefly looked around my space and there was nothing dangerous that was immediately visible, and I showed them my crisis plan, told them I was in therapy, and convinced them I wasn't in crisis. I know being able to talk calmly with the cops when we're in mental distress is obviously not always an option and also that being white has played into my experiences with cops sometimes being willing to perceive me as "calm and in control." I don't want to invalidate anyone's experiences when the police come and you aren't able to do that cause it really is out of our hands--I know I've had plenty of times where being able to talk calmly, seem in control and contained, and lying to the cops was not capable for me when I was in crisis. The cops are fucking bastards and are unpredictable and it is never your fault if you can’t keep them from doing fucked up shit to you, it is always their fucking fault for causing dangerous situations.

If there is anybody else who lives with you, having someone there to help witness and deescalate if needed can be really important. Again, I don't know your situation so this might not be relevant, but it can be really helpful to plan beforehand with your support person how you want them to interact with the cops, what you think the risks are, and talk through how you'd want them to respond in different scenarios.

Involuntary hospitalization isn't the only risk when police are involved in welfare checks, and I think it can be helpful to think things through like how/if you want to disclose you're trans, if your immigration status is relevant, how race and disability will play into your interactions, if you have any criminalized drugs in your space, if you've been formerly incarcerated, children in your house, whatever sorts of things are relevant to your life that can be very helpful to consider when making decisions about if you want to comply with police requests or do something different.

I'm sorry I don't have more resources or support for you, anon--I asked around my networks and we were having a hard time thinking of any other resources that would be relevant. Followers, please feel free to add on with any resources, advice, your own experiences--anything that might be relevant!

And truly, truly wishing the best for you anon. I hope you're able to get through this period of your life as smoothly as possible and receive the compassion and support you deserve. If you need anything, even if it's just to vent, feel free to send another ask. I believe in you and sending the warm cozy vibes back to you as well. 💜

[vespertin-y]

SURPRISE BITCH THREE LIVEBLOGS IN ONE DAY!! this time it’s the first part of ch3′s daily life :3

-we missed the end of day nine! maki strangled kokichi, and then we cut to the next day where he takes everyone to her lab. i presume they talked maki down and then all went to bed.

-maki’s assassin cloak is sick i will not be taking questions

-”kokichi...you learned that from the motive video, right? monokuma said everyone’s ultimate talent at the beginning of their video. ryoma knew maki’s true identity because he had her motive video...and, because you saw that-” “hm? i knew the whole time. given my position, i’d obviously know before any of you, right?” “your “position”?” “oh...don’t worry about it. that was a lie.” alright, given he’s been claiming maki kills people since ch1 and this is like...the fourth time he’s said he’s already knew, i feel ok saying he’s lying about this being a lie. what’s most interesting to me, though, is the comment about his “position” - more material for my season 52 sacrifice kokichi pinboard 👀?

-”gonta, you should stand back. nothing good ever happens when you try to help.” K O K I C H I. look i understand that gonta’s version of help is mostly to fling himself onto the sacrificial altar, and also that being openly nice to anyone = being fucking murdered by the mastermind in kokichi’s head, but none of this changes my desire to WRING HIS FUCKING NECK-

-i wish monodam’s revolt against monokuma had been more of a Thing instead of a one-chapter joke. bald monokuma is funny tho.

-”but...i’m glad i’m an average citizen. if i ever had a reason to live as strong as kirumi’s...or if i ever lost everything important to me like ryoma did...if anything like that happened, i probably would’ve just cowered in a corner somewhere.” yes, yes you would.

-”kirumi...she, too, had her own exceptional beauty. a crime that was bold, yet calculated...a battle against the truth...brutally killing others for her beliefs...unfeelingly sacrificing the few for the many...and her attachment to life and determination to live! her attempt to escape was so very ugly! it was pathetic! pitiful! wretched! but it was beautiful! i had never before seen such beauty in a human being before!” SIR JUST SAY SHE’S PRETTY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON YOU ARE SCARING THE HOES. (and me!!)

-kiyo’s lab has six floors, which maybe doesn’t make sense with the layout of the rest of the school but is still absolutely sick. i’d be shaking with glee too!!

-[but...who brought all this stuff here? i suppose there’s no point thinking about it. nothing in this place makes sense.] you Could get mad about how this is an infuriating and out-of-character thing for a detective to think, and about how shuichi’s protagonist role prevents him from being the kind of proactive character we see him being in ch1, OR! or you could join me in my “the vr helmets they’re wearing literally force the v3′s characters brains to skim over things that don’t make sense, like buildings appearing out of nowhere and sentient robot bears that can teleport” theory and save yourself the trouble. (i will do whatever it takes to make this game make sense and you cannot stop me. it’s the only way i can stay sane).

-the gold katana is a cute easter egg, and another hint that the mastermind is a fangirl.

-”you don’t have a lot of confidence in yourself, do you, shuichi?” “...what?” “you lack self-esteem...and because of that, you doubt your strength. you seem more confident than before, but i can tell you still question yourself. ...well!? i’m right, aren’t i!? i can tell when my sparring partner is burdened by doubt!” “...you might be right.” “you know what works real good at lifting all that doubt!? neo-aikido!” for one glorious moment, my dream of tenko training shuichi was real, and it took the form of her flipping him onto his back so hard his vertebrae probably shattered <3

-kiiruma maintenance scene sure is a Thing That Exists! shuichi is traumatized and so am i.

-something very funny about all the reward items being slotted into/used on something to open new areas, except for the hammer, which shuichi uses to just go fuckin ham on a glass wall. (monodam even says later it was meant to be a puzzle!) it’s not damaging school property it’s ✨stress relief✨

-FTE time! they picked tsumugi! i love how genuinely angry she gets when shuichi tries to say she isn’t plain. you can take her dignity, her position, even her life...but you can never take her gimmick.

-i may not be the biggest maki fan, but watching her fucking CRUSH shuichi and kaito in training always makes me giggle. 10/10 scene. (also, shuichi does almost 200 pushups??? isn’t this only his second training session!?)

-and that’s the end of day ten! see you next time :]

[simpingwriter]

Jerome Valeska

x

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.3

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Playing 20 Questions, what better way is there to bond with each other!

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 4.706 Words

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"I don't know what the fuck you mean, Carrotboy." Was that really the best your stupid fucking brain came up with?! Bruce would be disappointed hearing your pathetic attempt at talking yourself out of this situation.

Almost as bad as the day Gordon deduced you as being the girl behind Phoenix and all you said was: "Wha? Me? Phoenix? Nah, old man." All while standing right next to Batman as casual as you unfortunately could be for an apparently all normal Gothamite. But today was really one of the days you could've used your brain to work for you and not against you.

Sometimes it felt like your brain was a mini version of Jason, throwing a set of Tim's DnD dice every morning just to decide whether or not it would be helpful or a menace/bother to you.

"Sure. And I am blonde." Yeah yeah, you get it, you really weren't good at lying sometimes, shut up buddy-boy. "Why do you care if I am or not?" You ask back instead, without explicitly confirming or denying his question either way, coughing a bit from the dust on the floor you disturbed by letting yourself fall onto your knees. All other cells beside yours and his were empty once more…the guard really decided to lock you two away. This felt like a less terrible Solidary.

You really shouldn't have thought too soon when you saw that Solidary Holding Sign last time…this is all dragging your time for this investigation out. This is going to take foreverrrrrrrr. You feel yourself go insane already, alone at the fact that you're here already for one and a half days and you hadn't made ANY progress.

"I just…it's weird. I have been here since a whole hellish month now and no one gave a fuck about me, except if they could steal my lunch or push my head into it." It's not like the food here is very missable, you bet. But it would explain why he looked a bit…thin…for his age and height. "Hungry then, I'm guessing?" "Fuckin' starving, girly."

You hum at that, placing your forehead against the rough gray bricks of the wall that was between you two. "If they at least wouldn't have locked me in here as well – after all its not like I can't stand up for myself –, I could have gotten us something. Doubt it's worth it though? Tastes like dog food?" The ginger on the other side chuckles, wincing out audibly due to some of his healing facial wounds though, "You betcha, but if it's the only thing you get here and you got no connections to the guards, it's gonna taste at least mediocre very soon."

Let's hope you're not here for too long to test out his assumptions on the food.

"So if you're not an inmate��who are you? A guard they snuck in? To hear us out? Are they perhaps suspecting a breach?" Guessing you as a guard wasn't too far off. You didn't know him, you didn't know if one of your siblings or even Bruce caught him and threw him in here, so you would definitely not reveal your identity as Phoenix to him. That would be so fucking stupid either damn way, you didn't reveal that to even your best friends. After all it was an incredibly important rule next to the "Do not kill your enemy." Rule. A rule you and Jason regularly acted like it doesn't exist. Oops.

Never reveal your identity to ANYONE without Bruce's explicit permission. Not just for the protection of the Family's secret and their safety but also for the safety of the people you're all close to, both those that knew you all as the masked heroes/vigilantes or as the normal citizens you're outside of Patrols or missions.

"Not a guard. Don't you think you would've seen me before then?" While you continued talking to him, your eyes scanned the surroundings a second time, hoping you missed something but you got the sense you would have to use some of the things you sneaked into the Asylum. The positives of being a female "Inmate" while only men were on shift for registration? They couldn't legally frisk you, even at Arkham. "I don't know. As said, been here for a month only now…you could've been on vacation beforehand." "Trust me, what I actually …my job doesn't even know what month-long vacations are. A weekend...maybe." You stand up from your dusty, dirty spot on the floor, brushing your now cement-dusted hands off on your already nasty looking prisoner uniform before slipping a small black plastic object from your cleavage. Big tits had their various perks on various occasions, like great hiding spots for small tools. Like your trusty, assorted lockpicks in the form similar to a pocket knife. Never going anywhere without it.

"...Are you still-" He stops himself when he hears a small click from the side of your cell, then the "quiet" sliding of a metal door. And when he turned his head, you were already outside his own cell, crouching over to work on the lock of his cell door. His eyes widened at how quiet your footwork seemed to be that he didn't even hear you walk out of yours and over to his cell. "How did…how are you not afr- " "Shhh, I watched their pattern yesterday, that of the guards. They periodically take 20 minute breaks while the cells are empty and are usually gone for another extra 15 because why the hell should they watch empty cells after all, right?"

He watches you pick the lock with no sweat caused, nodding a bit unsure at your explanation, not knowing any better himself as he crawls backwards slowly once you slid his cell door open as well, not shutting it fully behind you as well to get out again more quickly once you had to.

"Yeah no…you're definitely not a guard. Fucking hell…who are you!?" You squint at his defensive position, looking up at you from his small, almost curled up spot on the ground. His black eye was healing better than you expected for the fact that he seems to be missing the important minerals and vitamins to have his body heal his wounds at a normal rate. Depending on how long you're stuck here as well, you had to somehow get him something to eat…perhaps you could bribe a guard to get him actual food. Not the other…"food". Eh, disgusting.

"Fine, I'll tell ya. But first of all, get off the damn floor, you look at me like you think I would stomp your head in. Why should I beat you up after I stopped that SUV-build of a man from taking care of that job? Makes no sense at all." He must've realized so too, looking to the side in embarrassment before using the wall next to him to stand up and move over to the "bed" in the left corner of the room, next to the wall of your cell.

After one night on them already, your comfort-spoiled back cracked like a nightlight stick this morning, you were way too used to the comfy, perfect mattress of your bed at home…hmm, not too soft, not too hard…

You snap out of your daydream when you see the confused tilt of his head, waiting for your reveal and your explanation. First though, you had to make something sure. "How are the wounds?" He frowns a bit, yet shrugs, "Nothing I didn't have to deal with before…" Was he a street kid before he was taken here? You then would expect him to be just slightly better at defending himself, or at least at avoiding the grudge of others.

"Street kid?" "...Well, no. I was able to avoid that at least. I uh…nevermind." "Fine, then I'll keep my secret as well." You claim boldly, throwing yourself next to him onto the hard bed, nearly touching him at how close you came by accident.

Sitting this close, you were able to look at his bandaged face much better, his suddenly wide open eyes revealing what a beautiful shade of dark green they were. What a shame that he was probably absolutely nuts, the slight sign of usually probably very obvious freckles on his face would almost melt away your first opinion of him: Inmate in Arkham, hands off.

"W-what? No! I wanna know…" "How 'bout a game then? 20 Questions." "That...is not a game."

It was to you and your adoptive siblings, well, when you all were still younger at least. It was the best game next to 'I spy with my little eye' to pass the time with on Patrol and to you it was the early bonding time you often missed out on with them back then in your own opinion. It was a good trick to make them be a bit more open about themselves, maybe it worked with the Ginger too. "It is, you just don't have enough imagination i guess. 20 Questions, no lying. Deal?" Stretching your hand out towards the pale one in his lap, you smile sweetly at him. If all of Arkham already hates you two, why shouldn't you two team up at least?

"...Deal. But I ask the first one." Sure, why shouldn't he, if it makes him happy.

"If you're not a guard, who are you then?" Didn't expect any other question, to be fair. But you made the rules yourself, no lying. Well, to a degree with this question, you definitely wouldn't reveal your identity THIS easily, to an Arkham inmate even less. "A Detective Aide." It wasn't a complete lie, you're technically under questionable contract with Jim, in case the media ever wondered how you, a normal citizen, ended up at so many of the crime scenes, seemingly helping the real Detectives with their jobs.

"...wait. You're with the GCPD??" Seems like you struck a sensitive spot with that already, even his bruised eye opening a bit alongside his other one from the shock as he scoots away from you by a few inches. "I'm guessing the GCPD then caught you for whomever you killed?" His green eye caught your dark blue ones, he looked like a deer in headlights, "Y-you could say that. Yeah…I was finally free and they threw me back into a new cage…"

Finally free?

"My turn. What the hell is your name anyway, I don't want to keep calling you Ginger or Carrotboy for all eternity." "Well, unlike me, if you're working with these corrupt dickwads, you aren't exactly stuck an eternity here, are ya?" Well, it heavily depends on how long they would let you simmer in the cells and nothing else. Might as well become an eternity with your usual amount of luck.

"...oh…and it's Jerome. Jerome Valeska. Yours?" Huh. You swore you heard that name somewhere before, you just didn't know exactly where. If he killed someone, he might've been in the news that day? Though this was Gotham's newspapers you're thinking about here, if they'd waste even an inch of paper for one measly murder case, it'd be really fucking odd.

But a mass murder caused by the Joker's Laughing Gas? Yeah. That would probably manage to find a spot. Somewhere.

"I take that as your second question, Jerome. My name…well, first I need you to promise to not utter it to anyone in here." "Do you realize that they'd punch my teeth out before I could even mention it?" Point taken at that, yeah, who even knew if they would believe him if they already wanted him dead for some reason.

"My undercover name is Magdalena…but my real name is Faith Wayne."

Till now, all your answers already sent some kind of fresh shock anew through him, so once more he stared at you in disbelief, "Faith…Wayne?! You're a-" "Wayne isn't an uncommon surname, mind you." He pulls his brows up, having a hard time believing you, not that 'Wayne' is common for a surname. But that you're not A Wayne.

"But are-" "Yeah." "Damn. …How did a Wayne end up as an Aide? I would expect you to someday get your father's company…or at least work there by now." And be hated by all of Gotham, not just its mass of criminals!? HA. NO!

"I...would rather not…too much work, which I already got enough of on most days." Cleary your answer only spawned more fresh question marks in Jerome's head as he kept looking at you just as lost as before. "Adopted or…"

"Biological."

"So…with you knowing that I am a Wayne, yay, you basically know where I live alread-" "Some extremely extravagant old-money house I am guessing." Nail on the head, yeah. You nod at that, in a 'More or less' way before you pick your interrupted sentence back up, "Where did you live before your address was changed into Arkham?" He had started picking at his fingers, especially the dry skin around his nails as he pulls his lips into a grimace. His home didn't give him good memories then, like most people that were here now. You doubt there is even one Inmate in Arkham that didn't have at least one bad or even terrible memory of their old homes.

"A…a traveling Circus. Does Haly's Circus ring a bell?" Ring a bell?! It was etched into your mind from your brother's childhood stories. Of course you did. "I…I actually know very well what Circus you mean…one of my adopted brothers lived and worked there with his parents as well." His mouth formed an O at that, surprise even more evident even with his still aching wounds keeping his facial expressions on the low pretty much, but he definitely didn't look like he wanted to be left in the dark about your Brother now. "Does the name Grayson ring a bell to you then?"

He was unsurprisingly quick to nod at that, "The flying Graysons. I heard of the "incident" that killed them back then from some talk I overheard while working, I was only 3 then yet though, when they died. So I fortunately didn't witness it, even if, I wouldn’t remember I guess…" You couldn't believe it, of course they most likely never met, but Dick was in the same Circus as the ginger next to you. It was shocking how small the world sometimes really was, but not all that weird if your own whole life circled around nothing but Gotham and the surrounding area…

For a few moments, both of you sat quietly, working on digesting and processing the new information: For you it was the Circus that connected you to two people now, for Jerome the fact that your a Wayne.

He would've expected anything but that.

He was first to continue though, turning more towards you so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side the whole time, leaning against the wall as he pulled his legs against his chest, mustering you more thoroughly, "So…how is it living with a billionaire dad?" Yeah, how was such a life?

"Pretty damn boring sometimes. Not even because I can have or do have everything I would possibly want, nah, he didn't raise us like that must I add. But…the fucking events, the gala about every. second. month. They make us want to bash our heads in, to put it bluntly but honest. My second oldest brother was close to making it a reality once because he hates formal suits like the plague." It was something you rarely confessed to other people, as you promised to keep a somewhat good impression in front of strangers for Bruce, so it felt a bit weird feeling so at ease with sharing your distaste for your boring ass rich kid life with the boy in front of you.

Maybe because there was an incredibly low chance he would ever see the world beyond the gates of Arkham again to talk about your deeply personal feelings…

Why did that idea sound so…terrible to you? He killed someone for God's sake! ...He still didn't look the part either way, his ginger hair, crusted over even now with his own blood, one stray, unruly lock of it hanging away and over his forehead, the dimmed freckles on his face, nose and even going down his neck, probably continuing on his shoulders...and the rest of his body. The deep interest buried into his unbruised eye at all the things he got to know about you and all it made him want to know more about you.

Had you met him outside of Arkham, he would've never come to your mind as the subject of probably cold blooded murder. And from all of Batman's "Robins", you're the one that could see through the many masks of your fellow humans the best. So why, if there was one, could you not see through his? "Do...do I have something on my face?" Wait, have you been staring at his face the whole time of your stupid inner monologue!? Oh great, not weird at all, Faith. But you're literally here as a crazy person, undercover, but either way: you were allowed to stare.

"A few freckles are saying hi. But other than that, no."

"Don't start with them now…I can't even count as far for how often I was bullied for them at that stupid fucking shithole of a Circus before! I hate them!" He hates his...freckles? Why? They aren't even that prominent on him, which might be due to the current lack of daily sunlight in Arkham. But how can anybody bully someone for them, you wished you had freckles but noooo, your Dad's stupid genes made you look so damn basic, black hair, blue eyes, wohoo baby... "I think they look really nice on you, though I think you need to get out into the sun a bit more again…" "...Nice!? I doubt anyone ever even thought about complimenting them…" Jerome laments, first caught off guard, then in thought, brushing with his non-bandaged hand over said few still visible patches of them on his cheeks. It was very obvious that he was badly self-conscious about them, a random girl telling him that she liked them wouldn't be able to fix years of negative comments about them like magic.

Sometimes you wished insecurities worked that way though, that all a person needs is ONE compliment and everything is forgotten. But nothing is ever that easy.

"Well, you were surrounded by cunts then. I doubt you will ever have to see any of these people again though, so forget what they said about you. The past is the past, live in the present, and always keep planning ahead for the future." A short, melancholic chuckle shook his body for a moment as he also shook his head, letting the hand fall back onto his knees as he toyed with the pillow in his other hand. As much as the bandage let him at least. "What future…this cell is my only future, where they will let me rot and decay if need be. I will die in here, either from malnutrition, the other nutcases here…or myself. Whoever or whatever is quicker." He tried to hide it, but you saw his eyes both glaze over, quick to soak the threatening tears up with the bandage around his right hand.

He knew his most likely fate. So did you.

So why did you tell him about all this, knowing it would only hurt him further? Were you that detached from reality sometimes?

"I'm sorr-" "It's okay." "No it isn't, I…I forget my manners or to think through my words, especially now. I can't help it..." The last time you took your medication was two days ago now, the afternoon before this Undercover Mission began. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, had the accident yesterday not happened – would you be able to investigate now instead of being stuck in the cell blocks because otherwise your head would be attempted to be smashed into pancake batter – you could've managed with the steady decline of the meds missing in your system.

"Why?" Asks the actual inmate, yeah thanks. "Impulsivity Disorder, a bit like ADHD but without all the other shtick connected to that. So even if I am not a real Inmate…I have a bit of a crack running through my noggin too. Ha…ironic sometimes…" Phoenix, a vigilante hunting down the insane and crazy of Gotham…is one of them. Well, your condition is still much more mild than whatever is wrong with some of the women and men in here, you don't violently rip the head of Squirrels off to eat them like Cocoa Puffs, for a quite brutal but unfortunately not made-up and gruesome example. "And you? Has anyone ever told you what made you…you?" He shook his head yes, but didn't immediately come out with the words, instead he felt his eyes wander up to the ceiling of the cell. Just as boring and plain as everything else around the two of you – the only interesting aspects right now.

"..."Diagnosed" as a psychopath…if they only knew how long it took for me to get pushed this far…too far." Air quotes added to the word 'Diagnosed' woke your curiosity anew as you used the fact of the beds being slightly wider than a normal single bed format to lie down with your head at the opposite end of it, slightly tilted to position your now propped up legs, one folded over the other, next to his. He looked caught off guard how even after, especially after, he confessed his own condition, his reason for being in Arkham and not a normal prison, you kept being so close to him on your own free will. Hell, you even got more comfortable.

...Psychopathy.

Psychopaths are good at hiding their true selves, but as you mentioned earlier, you were uncannily good at seeing through such masks as well. And yes, that included those of Psychopaths and Sociopaths. So when your first thought of "Shit, he is probably only acting shy, he might be manipulating you." crossed your mind, moments after you heard of his diagnosis, "diagnosis", it was just as quickly rubbed away again by that comically large mental eraser when you realized that you would've most certainly noticed if that werethe damn case. If he would've had lied till now.

But he took this game of questions as serious as you hoped he would. Unlike your unruly siblings sometimes, especially your youngest brother, that little Garden Gnome with an attitude.

"Why the air quotes?" You ask the question that burned you the most of all he just said, wanting to know how it came to said diagnosis. "You're gonna laugh…a Detective just wrote it down. Arkham accepted it as a real diagnosis, didn't question it at all. They didn't even call for a "second assessment". Air quotes this time because there wasn't a first one in the first place of fucking course…" So…it might be some other mental problem…or none at all. But the GCPD wanted to make their job easier, or that one Detective at least…

Even after everything you and your family are trying to do, everything the Commissioner is trying to do…corruption is eating up even the Police to this very day. Will Gotham ever see the day that the innocent and the rightful, the law abiding citizens win? Well, Jerome still killed someone, he wasn't really all that innocent. But he had been helpless either way in that moment, his fate was left in the hands of the Detectives and Officers taking care of his file, his case. In the hands one was supposed to be able to trust.

"...You mentioned that you were…pushed too far. If it's not too personal, who…was your victim? One of your bullies?" The pillow was gripped very tightly suddenly at your question, a dark look overshadowing his own curiosity as you realized he was about to lose to his tears again, angry ones this time. "No." "Then-" "I killed my mother." Oh. Oh damn.

And that was the same thing and only thing that you managed to form with your IQ of impressive 160. "Oh. Oh damn."

"Yeah, I doubt you want to hear that. They didn't listen either."

Because they don't care. All they saw was a crazy, probably insane boy that killed his poor mother, they didn't care to dig any further, you don't doubt that with these underpaid fuckwits sometimes. As often as you had to work with them, you wished you didn't have to, but it was a deal made with Jim. As your Patrols didn't often end all that calmly, much like Jason's. The two of you were only "Robins" not turned off by the idea of "accidentally" dragging a criminal across the asphalt with your cars or motorcycles. And Jim knew that. Being the closest to you of all of Batman's Sidekicks, he also was much more lenient.

Help the GCPD every once in a while with something too difficult for their normal Detectives and your own "crimes" don't make it into the files. Sometimes you could throw in a good word for Jason as well.

You had to work with people whose work ethics made you question even the system you were supposed to protect with your family. If anything, it needed to be reformed, not the people alone. Desperately.

"No. I do. I'm not the police, I do want to know." "Didn't you just say you're an Aide for them?" Well... yeah. You did. So what.

You lift your head to lock eyes with him, eyebrows knitted together at him in some way or another for calling out your one half-lie between all your truthfulness until now. You definitely wouldn't acknowledge it this time, he would have to believe either the first or the latter version. But only you knew that both are right in a way. "You have the chance to tell your side of the story to someone who promises to listen and you begin questioning that person's occupation?"

He returned the same irritated expression, as much as he could without wincing out again, holding the bandage over his cheek before grumbling out at you, since not only you knew that you're right. "...all…all of it?" "If it is needed to explain your reasoning of going with such a brutal decision of killing your own mother, yes. All of it."

His mother forced him to take care of nearly all chores around their small, crammed trailer that 3 people had to live in. If he wasn't fast enough or she found the smallest something to complain about in how he did it, and he told you that she found a reason basically every damn time, Lila, he said was her name, would beat him. Often, regularly and routinely even, to the point he wouldn't just bruise but also bleed or have to limp for weeks from how hard she would hit him, naturally with help of other objects than her hands as well.

The last ten minutes of your sneaked in stay in his own bleak cell were spent with him telling you about his childhood, of growing up at Haly's ever since he could remember. Of course all that while you made sure to analyze every twitch of a muscle and any non present one, the movements of his hands. Everything. He begins with the fact that he even had a twin brother, named Jeremiah. Of the cruel way the other residents and workers of the Circus treated him as a kid. All he was used for by the Circus was to dispose of the dung and shit all the Circus' animals left behind after the shows and feeding or cleaning routines.

All the while, she fucked a new man every second day, right in the next room or trailer, depending on who the newest man was. Clowns, Acrobats, Lion-Tamers…everything.

Then he told you about what his brother did to him, how their mother only turned her punishments and beating up a notch of extreme…because his twin told their mother that Jerome wanted to kill him in his sleep. Jerome was adamant towards you about that having been a blatant lie, as he couldn't have even done so, he was locked in a literal animal's travel cage that winter night, by his own mother as well, so she could've denied it too.

And one night, Jerome confessed, he could no longer hold onto his rage, his anger that build for all these years…he just couldn't hold it back any longer. He let his vile, dark thoughts become real and he killed her, but he waited until she touched him again, when she came in to beat him for forgetting to clean the beer cans up. With an axe, he explained, his eyes unfocused as he stared at his hands, those that held the murder weapon. His uncle, he said that fact with a sour tone, helped him try to cover it up but as he was here now, it clearly didn't work.

But she didn't, she simply used that event as an incentive to "discipline" the "black sheep of her family" even further.

You could only imagine the amount of nights Jerome spent trying to find any spot of his body he cpuld lie on without putting pressure on his bruised skin. The tears that must've fallen in all these hellish nights...

And then you were all caught up to his situation, eyes wide the whole time, your continuous follow up questions, for everything he told you with a knot in throat, just as choked out as his answers. You simply couldn't or didn't want to believe that he went through all these things…and he defended himself…he wanted…freedom.

And Arkham is what he got in return…

"Jerome, I-" you just wanted to give him your honest opinion on it all when you hear it in the distance: the jingling of two heavy key rings. The guards are coming back! "What?" Your hearing seems to be better than his as you hushed him, quickly sitting up on the bed to push a finger against his lips, getting incredibly close to the now unhindered crying boy. Again, an action from your side that happened without much thought from your end as you motioned him to either be quiet or to whisper now.

You didn’t want to leave his side already, especially not now! He looked like he was about to fall in on himself like an old building with you causing him to dig back up all of this past trauma, having given up to hold back the tears. His eyes puffy, they look into yours like a kicked puppy,

"Please don't leave me now…"

In that moment you realize that you're probably the first person he told about his abuse, about everything…a stranger he met yesterday was kinder and more understanding than any adult or other person he came across in his poor excuse of a life. He deserves to have at least one person to listen to him.

To hear him out.

But you had to leave for now, get back to your own cell before the guard saw that you had the tools to open them yourself. With a bitter, apologetic smile, you slowly get off his bed, nodding slowly at him when he keeps silent. But you couldn't give a promise without words either way, so, when you slide the cell door open as quietly as even possible, you turn towards the now absolutely miserable looking ginger one last time for today it seemed.

"We will talk more…I promise, just have some Faith."

[emmebearpaw]

I love making posts. I get responses and then want to talk more. Anyways this post deviates away from gliding and more so discusses Tengu and Yokai culture. Or a lack thereof.

Let’s just throw this out as a first point. My OC, who I have temp named/sort of final named Kotori, has opinions on being a Tengu and on being a Yokai that are her own and are not necessarily representative of literally anyone else’s opinion. How she chooses to cope with a feeling of otherness is unfortunately her problem, and she should probably stop projecting it onto any other tengu around her but. Ok okay let's actually cite some sources, because despite how little tengus are discussed in canon I do actually have one notable source about tengu self identification. Would you believe me if I said it is a wind glider. Because the Wings of the Stormstrider, Inazuma's reputation wings is actually basically exclusively about tengu. You can read the full lore here.

Short version:

"The 'tengu' are first and foremost ones who have received great divine endowment to fly freely in the skies"

Tengus have wings

the term tengu is a title used to refer to those who are agile

the title of tengu can also be used to refer to great swordsmen

the title of tengu can also be used to refer to those with control over anemo and/or electro.

Sara is standing there and is not the one telling you all this about tengus.

Other bits of tengu lore not from the glider but are important:

they all have a mask and that mask is significant in someway to them in that taking one as a prize after defeating one has occurred.

Ok. Fascinating. Besides the Yougou tengu of Mt. Yougou (which is like a lineage or perhaps a clan), tengu seems to be a... title. Which is fascinating to me. Because it does not actually tell us jack shit about what a tengu actually is, because meeting some of these categories does not make someone a tengu. For instance, Kazuha could probably be described as a great swordsman, being one of the last of his clan practicing his art, he also has control over anemo and had control over electro that one time. I think I would start a fight if I called him a tengu. Are some qualities more important than others? Is just having wings and a mask enough to be a tengu? Do tengus have to earn the title of tengu? Where the fuck do the masks come from? Presumably they are bestowed upon tengus by other tengus but at what point? The question of Tengu identity is just one (albeit a more complicated one) of the many types of yokai! Honestly, Oni seem to be one of the simplest questions, being treated more as an ethnic or perhaps racial identity that a child can claim if at least one of their parents is an oni. And then they just don't give us any fucking hints for the rest of them. Like yeah we are using our real world knowledge to go "japanese fox woman is a kitsune" but like... why isn't Gorou a yokai. If Diona was Inazuman.. would she be a nekomata, or would she not be one since she can't transform? I want genshin to do another yokai event so bad. i want a yokai event not about yokai joining the human world but about those that don't want to, or just simply about what it means to be a yokai, a minority group being encouraged to integrate with the majority by a political and spiritual leader of the majority who is a minority. I know illuminated beasts are very similar but the politics of inazuma are more fascinating to me so I want to go there. But also. Building a mobility aid as a way to include a loved on in an activity you feel is essential to your shared identity. Spending your time and energy learning the skills needed and also finally being able to try out a skill you've always been fascinated with as another way to put even more of yourself into this. I don't know if wing prosthetics are a thing tengu typically do. We... we just haven't seen enough of them to establish how the community treats the disabled. We do know that as a young child Sara was alone enough she was found by random human merchants after she fell off the mountain, and not by any other tengu concerned about the child alone in the woods and falling off a mountain. Is it a thing Kotori is reinventing due to her isolation from tengu community or is this a thing she is inventing to extend the tengu identity to another who would be excluded from it by typical definitions, because she love him. How does she fit into her own cultural identity, as someone fairly uninterested by swordsmanship and other combat training and who followed after her elder brother as he left to marry a human woman (I presume that this would be fairly frowned upon in tengu culture because of their mentioned isolationism and no mention of any half tengu or anything like the Oni). After his death, how does she feel about being the only tengu in her little brother's life (she calls him her little brother, but he is her nephew). She loves being a tengu dearly and wants him to experience that, but feels disconnected from being a tengu due to not meeting cultural expectations of martial prowess and most of her time being spent with humans.

How does she feel upon meeting other youkai who each have their own view of themself in relationship to their humanity. Kirara chooses to foray into the human world due to her love of it, but is also very insistent upon marking herself as an other. Itto inhabits the same place as humanity and seems to love the simpler aspects of it but also balks at the rigidity of it. Miko has played it like a game and has won! She's a respected political/spiritual leader and for the most part lives as human, her being a kitsune is a very minor aspect of her identity and is more so tied into being Ei's familiar. Sara has probably been othered due to her tengu nature. In my view she feels connected to it but probably not out of actual connection to being a tengu, but more so a connection to not being human, to being an other. With Sara in particular, I think the differences are interesting. Sara is a general in the Shogun's army, her martial prowess is well known, would that not elevate her to being one of the greatest tengus, similar to Sasayuri. And yet she is connected to being a tengu only in that she is not a human. Comparing her to Kotori who loves being a tengu and yet views herself as only barely one due to her preferring to watch the village elders paint and do crafts rather than attend sword practice. One can fly the other can not. Like I said, one should craft OCs that interact with canon to interact with the parts of canon you are most interested in.

…. Oops I’m back with a whole second post/probably soon to be thread because the windglider one was getting very long and now I’m talking about Tengus and Gliders together. Putting in a read more for length.

This post is in response to reblog from @canonical-transformation and asks from @followfire and @beingatoaster

Chapter 1) How the hell does a Tengu Work?

ok that might seem like a strange place to start but I think it’s important to start off with the fact that Tengu wing anatomy is wack as hell. Typically I am the sort of person who likes to do research while thinking about my silly silly headcanons. I have learned a lot about old fabric skinned aircraft and have an appreciation for early heavier than air gliders now because of the (Wikipedia) research I’ve done to think about gliders in genshin. So I figured we’ll look up animals with 4 wings and figure out how they would fly and okay yup, early birds and flying insects. Do any of them have shorter front wings and larger back wings? No? No they are all either larger front or equal size? Excellent. Sounds great. It does seem to be a design feature used in certain types of military jets and missiles to uh… help with turning? I don’t 100% know. It’s called Canard configuration. It’s specifically for fixed wing aircraft and not… birds….

ok so I don’t actually know the motion a tengu’s wings would probably be making. It’s not like we ever get to see them fly in game. Hell, we barely get to see Sara’s wings because the game magically puts them away so they don’t have to animate them except in her idle. This is stupid and we are going to pretend she can’t put her wings away in her inventory and simply just keeps them folded a majority of the time. Anyways enough about Sara for now (don’t worry man. We’ll be back), it’s time for assumption #1: tengus fly in a mostly horizontal position and flap their wings in a rhythm similar to dragonflies (front and back set flap with off timing), but with more elbow in it like a bird. There is a flapping motion, the wings work independently of one another, and a tengu can not hover or fly backwards.

Assumption 2: the larger bottom set is likely responsible for most of the lift. The smaller top set is likely responsible for steering? Especially sharper turns and maneuvers? I don’t 100% know. I really feel like they should be reversed so I can take inspiration from proto-birds like micro raptor but instead we have that. So we are going to work with it.

assumption 3: the human form isn’t really meant to sustain flight? But we know they can fly, and it’s described as flight and not as gliding in lore, and thus they must be able to, for some amount of time, generate enough lift to gain elevation. In order to help reach that goal, a few other things I presume about tengus are that they have extra musculature in and around their wings to support them, they have bones that are more hollow than the average human, both to reduce weight and to store oxygen so that anaerobic metabolism is delayed and thus lactic acid production, allowing tengus to perform athletic feats for longer without exhaustion than an equivalent human, and that their builds tend towards lean and muscular without excessive weight. Sara is a decent example of a tengu build I think! Sort of lanky and isn’t muscular like Itto, where it’s very obvious, but she is muscular and very strong.

those assumptions are going to form the backbone of what a theoretical prosthetic glider may need to accomplish. It needs to be able to move independently from the other wing on the same side, and flap! Either to provide lift or to help steer. Now, let’s get onto

Chapter 2: Construction of a Second Wing.

I say as if there would be one construction. Because. You know. It’s a mobility aid. There would be varying levels of need and thus varying types made so let’s go through them in rough order of least involved to most involved. Anyways I’m still not an engineer so uh fuck.

but first we have to start with the common elements. While I tend to think normal gliders for people without wings are unframed devices, I firmly believe that tengu wing prosthetics (which I’m going to call second wings I guess. I made up that name for the chapter title but do like it) are articulated framed constructions. Realistically I think bamboo would grow in Inazuma despite it not being there in game because trees can’t appear in two regions if they don’t have fruit, but, I think bamboo frames are the most common material due to its lightness.

I was originally going to draw pictures depicting the framing but it’s too late and I’m comfy cozy in bed, because past midnight is the only time I write insanely long tumblr posts. Diagrams may be added later but please use your imagination for now.

ideally I think the frame would follow the leading edge of the wing, acting almost as a second skeleton in order to minimize motions the wing is incapable of, and to provide a way to attach these things to the body harness. Realistically a frame on just one side of the wing may be impractical, and if that is the case then the wing is probably fully surrounded by a light bamboo frame. This probably depends on the needs of the user.

My general thought on the design of these would be a wing by wing approach. The trailing edge of the wings are not sewn close all the way, allowing the user to slide their wing in from the bottom before closing it with snaps, buttons, knots, etc. The wing would then be connected at the… shoulder I guess? The back? By an attachment to a harness. This prevents the wing cover from loosening or moving mid flight and secures the wooden framing against the skeletal structure. The idea would then be that a user could flap their wing normally, but with a larger impact than their wing could usually provide. The wing by wing nature of this general design allows for users to only have 1/4 wings be a second wing, or as many as they need in whichever combo. A more permanent harness attachment would likely be used in those who need both wings in a pair or both pairs, though the single wing approach may also be more practical for those with mobility issues in their wings. Basically, if the problem is lift generation, you can retrofit a wing over top and have a new wing! User cases: those with problems to wing shape (caused by injury or congenital) that hampers flight potential. Tengu with any other problem that does not limit range of motion below what one would typically need to fly with. See chapter 3 for more detail, because I do have a reason why this is the version I have thought about the most.

But speaking of those with mobility problems. What about people who can’t move their wings to the extent needed to fly typically. This is a much harder problem to solve with a second wing obviously, but I have had a few thoughts. To begin, these ones are definitely probably closer in framing to a full frame, because the frame will likely have to act as a brace. This is also the time to tell you I’m not a physical therapist. Anyways I don’t know how to solve this problem but there are a few options

A) the glider acts more like a brace and solid wing. The tengu’s wing(s) is still inside but does not bend, and is likely supported by more internal straps to fasten their wings tighter to the bamboo framing . This likely limits the ability to fly as flapping would not be an option. Though in individuals with upper wing injuries that limit mobility, I really do thing external control with strings controlled by arms or other body parts may be an option for sharp steering that is hard to do by body position alone.

B) Single wing injuries may be able to have rigging of some sort to have the motion of the opposite wing move the injured wing. This would likely be better if the injured wing was tucked away somewhere else and a new wooden boned wing was created.

use cases: those with atrophied ring muscles (though they may be able to move to previous one over time. Those with injuries limiting range of motion.

The last category is for those missing parts of or entire wings. These prosthetics would be the most intense, and would involve not only rigging wings to be able to flap and move via strings or whatever but also a different attachment system custom made to the user’s body. This… I don’t have enough engineering knowledge to imagine this I’m gonna be honest.

Chapter 3: hey why have you even thought about this and how does it pertain to characters (you can stop I’m just oc rambling. But also Kujou Sara)

So I’m gonna be honest and say I have a genshin OC who is a tengu. She is learning to make second wings because her nephew (who is like her little brother!) is a half tengu, and thus his wings are too small and aren’t growing primary feathers at quite the rate to support flight. She thinks that flight is one of the essential qualities that makes a tengu a tengu and not just a human with wings. She thinks he should get to be a tengu, and is thus making prosthetics from scratch even though she is very much not educated to do so.

This would eventually also lead her to talking with Kujou Sara. Thinking about Kujou Sara is a large part of why I have the oc, and also why I basically made her to be a foil to Sara. I don’t think Sara can fly, due to combination atrophy from not using them since I doubt Takayuki would let her go flying really, and injury (from falling off a mountain and whatever else she may have accumulated). Now. I don’t think Sara would like the concept of a mobility aid but also, like, I think it would be good for her to get her feet off the ground and to not have anything bad happen. Kujou Sara should have nice things and maybe one of those things can be talking to someone more immersed in the culture you are disconnected from and discovering things about it. And getting a second opinion on the things that mark you as obviously non human despite your effort to be one.

Anyways make your ocs to explore all the things in a game the game won’t cover, such as: long term ramifications of that war they just had, Yokai culture and self identification of the label, Kujou Sara having screen time and development and even some good things happening to her, Tengu, and wind gliders.

anyways that’s it for tonight my brain is starting to melt. Maybe more if I can think of more later.

[leviathanspain]

mi amor

namor x avenger!reader

synopsis: after a long time running away from the one man who had promised you the world, you realize your fears have come to fruition

disclaimer: i have NOT seen the movie yet lmaooo i work all the time + i’m a cheap ass waiting for the pirated websites to upload the HD versions for the movie so bear with me if none of this is remotely accurate— based off of fics and clips i’ve seen

mi amor - my love

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you could hear the clamor of the fight. you had stayed back, the look of disappointment on shuri’s face when she tried to tug on you to help was like salt in your deep wound. you knew exactly who it was, having caught glimpses of their blue skin and their clothing, you felt the bile rise in your throat as panic surged your body.

had he truly found you again? after all this time?

you had spent the months after leaving, destroying every piece of your identity, faking your death, selling your belongings and erasing yourself from existence. for a time, it was easy. half the world had been snapped so half the people who once knew you, were gone.

but it didn’t make the struggle of it all any less. the avengers had dissolved, especially considering that half of your teammates were gone, you were left with one option, one that you weren’t really sure was reliable anymore.

wakanda had once let you call it home, and you hoped it would once again.

nakia’s voice was like music to your ears as the call had finally been picked up on the third ring.

your head fell into your hand with a sigh of relief, “nakia!” you nearly cried, “nakia, thank the gods..”

you heard a faint whisper of a man in the background before nakia responded with your name, “y/n? what’s wrong?”

your unloading of the situation took a mere five minutes, but nakia was already on her way with a jet to retrieve you in less than.

being back on wakanda was jarring. you had been here before, happy and accompanying bucky as he healed from hydra’s touch. and it was here, that you saw him for the very first time.

legends that your mother had told you never measured to his. he was pure magic, a mystical being that had you bowing on your knees.

he rose from the water as you felt the tears prick from your eyes. the darkness casted a shadow over his face, and it wasn’t until he was breathing your air, that you finally saw the beauty of him.

you felt the gasp of air leave your lungs, and instead, filled with the pounding water from down below.

you wanted to scream, feeling the burning of your lungs, you clawed at your throat, and even more at him, for his beauty was a facade for the evil that sat within him.

as he set a hand on your shoulder, intent on watching you die within his wrath, you gripped his hand, and let the fire of your pain burn through onto his skin.

he pulled back, hissing as he looked down at his injury. you collapsed at the same time, the water that made your lungs burn now emptied out on the ground, gasping for air you heaved.

“what..” you coughed, still gulping at the left over sea water, “the fuck?!” you yelled.

“i have the same question to ask you..” his voice was accented, a twinge of spanish just at the brink of his tongue you could almost hear it.

he looked down at his burn and smirked softly, “you are the fire they’ve warned about..”

you sent yourself back to reality.

“enough dwelling in the past..” you muttered. you mustered up your strength and stepped out onto the scene. it was less horrifying as you imagined, considering his style.

all the words fell immediately as you revealed yourself. shuri and ramonda both turned and the reveal of your betrayal played in their eyes.

“y/n.” his voice was like forbidden music to your ears. you turned your gaze away from them and faced him.

you regretted your decision to show, but you understood that this was partly your fault.

“k'uk'ulkan.” his name was like honey on your tongue, a sound to him that left him buzzing. you looked at him and wanted to beg the question, wanted to ask why he would go to such lengths to find you.

“don’t think that i didn’t know. i can feel you move amongst them, your heart is aligned with mine..” namor moved closer to you, “i felt them, their heartbeat, their energy..” namor whispered now, his words ever so enchanting.

you mustered up the courage and pushed him back roughly, the sound of sizzling flesh was heard just as his soldiers, stepped in front of him with weapons pointed at your neck.

you scoffed, “i was once considered your queen, your ruler and you my subjects, and you dare forget me so soon..” you stepped back, and ignored their faces as you stared at namor, “there is not a corner on this earth that you will leave unsearched, but there is the fact that you will never find him.” your words were like knives to his heart, and he seethed.

as you prepared to step back, run away as you have always done, the emotion that tugged at your heartstrings made you stop, and gaze him in the eye once more.

“how could you have done this to me, mi amor?” he was murmuring the words, and you looked back to see the wakandians glaring at you with betrayal, “i promised to give you the world,” he opened his arms and turned with a grimace, “even if the world is undeserving of your beauty, your power can change it, change them.” he glowered at the wakandians.

you shook your head, “how could i have stayed knowing your were walking the narrow line between justice and tyranny?” you echoed, “i made my decision, and i live with it everyday that he asks who his father is.” you sniffled, “it is now your turn to live with the consequences of your actions, mi amor.” the last words felt antagonizing, like salt to another deep wound.

the pain of walking away, knowing you had just given up another place you could’ve called home eventually, was tough. your son was with nakia, the only one entrusted with the information regarding his parentage, you had him blended into society, a child who lived in ignorance filled bliss.

you would give up your life, if it meant namor would never see him.