#normally its a little subtler but

[maginnmauvaise]

he takes nothing seriously man

vamp dia, vamp hunter luci

vers under cut has a dribble of blood and dialuci implications

[seancekitsch]

How about Lucifer and one of Angel or Cherri's wild party friends?

If it blows up in your face, you can always say it was a dare.

Cherri’s words ricochet in your head like a pinball as you look down at the hand next to yours. The gloved hand so close that if you were to twitch, you’d touch fingers. Normally by this time of night you’d be at the club, or at some party, but instead here you were behind the bar at the Hazbin Hotel; a structure dedicated to a redemption you weren’t sure you believed in. And here you are, full of nerves, teaching the King of Hell himself how to make a cocktail. He’s done pretty good at it, which is expected, because you’re pretty sure he’s lied about not knowing how to make an Appletini. He’s like ten thousand fucking years old, of course he knows how to make an Appletini; he probably invented them.

But now that there’s drinks in front of the two of you, and Husk away from his normal post to have a night with Angel, the two of you take up the space to people watch. Its impressive, really, how much Charlie’s gotten-

A gloved finger curling over your pinky stops any thought, and you look down to where Lucifer has just made a move. Well, a move way subtler than you’re used to.

“Sorry if this is ah- a slow night for you,” Lucifer sounds a little guilty as he turns his face towards yours, his eyes following a couple that had recently checking into the hotel instead of meeting yours though.

“Oh! no,” you chuckle as you nudge your joined fingers, “slow is okay, really.”

“Well, I- I just figure you’re used to something more fun than this,” he tilts his head down, averting your attention now fully on him, “Like I know you turned down Cherri’s invitation tonight to hang out with me, and I really appreciate that, but I know-“

“Lucifer,” you interrupt, “Do you want to go to a club or something?”

You chuckle at the confusion on his face.

“You know, if you’re so worried about tonight being slow.”

You should have quit while you were ahead, you think as you lead a disguised Lucifer by the hand through a club in the Vee’s turf. He looks so wildly out of place trailing behind you. You’re lucky enough that you have a standing reservation for a couch at this particular club, and you quickly gesture to Lucifer to sit once you’ve reached it. A waitress appears immediately and brings two glasses with ice and a bottle of Velvette’s custom vanilla vodka as you usually get.

“Is it normally-“ Lucifer shouts over the music, “always this loud?”

You nod enthusiastically as you pour up for both of you, eyes surveying the crowd. No one has seemed to notice you or your guest, which is ideal right now. A scandal for Lucifer would absolutely ruin anything between the two of you.

You lean in, flirtatiously close until your lips almost touch the shell of his ear.

“This is my booth,” you explain, “Nobody can sit unless I let them, so we can people watch uninterrupted.”

He seems to relax at your words, and clinks his glass against yours before taking a big swig.

Lucifer almost immediately sputters, coughing most of the vodka back into the glass.

“Oh wow! That is! Oh!” he exclaims, not even hiding his disgust as you laugh sympathetically.

“Not a fan?” you joke, before reassuring him, “Don’t worry, me neither.”

“Why do you drink it then?” he asks, gesturing at how easily you’re sipping at it.

“Comes with the booth,” you explain, taking his glass from him, pouring his contents into yours, spit and all.

He eyes you up at that move, not exactly hiding the fact that he’s taking in the sight of your body. You practically shiver under his gaze, feeling bashful now because of him. Butterflies swarm in your stomach, and maybe if he wasn’t the literal King of Hell you’d lean over and kiss him.

Instead you chicken out.

“Let me grab you something you will like,” you offer, gesturing to the bar at the wall to the left of the couch. You stand up before he can protest, taking a big sip of the glass now containing his drink and yours, and place it down on the little table in front of the couch before you head away.

Lucifer wishes he had played it cooler with the vodka. If he had, maybe you’d be on the couch right now, your hip oh so close to his, and his nerves dissolving enough to maybe try to grab your hand again. Or ask you to get on the dance floor. Or fuck it, kiss you. He stares fixated at the drink, trying and failing to not read too much into it. You’d drank from it even after you’d watched him make an ass of himself and spit into it. You willingly drank his spit, and, was that flirting? It was weird to him, thats for sure. But you’re one of Cherri and Angel’s friends, wild and barely tamed by his daughter’s redemption program, and maybe this is modern flirting in hell. Lilith never did anything like that, but then again, she took off without a word a decade ago. Maybe thats what flirting looks like these days; maybe Lilith does this now too. Maybe he should stop thinking of his ex-wife when the curve of your ass and the promise of your attention has him glued to his seat and waiting for your return. Why had he even suggested this club? He wonders, and then remembers the brittle coldness of insecurity that crept up on him in the lobby, seeing such a carefree woman like yourself cooped up with him on a night he knows you cancelled plans for. He thinks back to the drink, and counts it as a bizarre, one way, first kiss, and lets himself feel the rhythm of the music bumping around him, one song bleeding into the next, until a familiar raised voice breaks the thrum of noise.

You tap your card on the bar absentmindedly as you wait for the bottle of wine you ordered for Lucifer, something you’ve known he drinks and that the bar cannot screw up. This bartender was from Sloth, so of course you expected slow service, but this was something else. Why had you even offered to leave instead of waving over a waitress? You were finally getting somewhere with Lucifer before the vodka incident, and maybe you’d be dancing or making out or even just having a very good conversation while sat in his lap.

An arm around your waist shakes you from your thoughts, and you turn, ready to excitedly greet the man and explain the hold up, but that doesn’t happen. A bull like sinner has decided to grab you, something that maybe a few years ago might flatter you, but the thought churns your stomach now to be touched by anyone but Lucifer like this. Damn, you’ve really gone soft for him, huh?

You shake the man off, glaring as you make your disinterest known, but he just puts his hand back, now on your hip. Bold! You tap your card harder, hoping if you get this wine you can scurry back to the table quickly and this will be over.

“Put that card away,” the sinner says, “I’ve got something for you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, drugged no doubt,” you sneer, and the sheepish look on his face tells you that your assumption was correct. Bold and disgusting!

“Listen I’ll-“

“I’m with someone!” you practically shout, but that doesn’t make the sinner back off.

“Well I don’t see-“

You spin on your heels, pulling yourself from his grasp.

“I do not care who you are, I do not want whatever you have, I do not want whatever you want from me!” you are shouting now, not caring about a scene because finally the fucking wine is being placed on the bar so you can get out of this area. Lucifer can get his own drinks for the rest of the night, or better yet, you can go back to the hotel.

The sinner bares his teeth, and you’re certain he’s growling under the throbbing beat of the music. You back up, grabbing the wine with you and ready to run until you back into another person. You sigh, not really ready for an ambush and not really wanting to break this bottle over someone’s head without letting Lucifer drink at least a little bit of it. You turn, ready to fight, but you’re greeted by Lucifer’s disguise. Immediately you calm down. Lucifer won’t let anything bad happen to you.

“The lady said she’s with someone,” he explains, voice even and deadly, before he leads you away quicker than the other sinner can really retaliate.

Lucifer guides you back to the couch, but you walk straight past it, heading for the door. He follows quickly, grabbing your hand not unlike before. You walk until you reach the heavy steel door, pushing it open with your shoulder and letting the cool air of the alley hit you in the face.

“What about your section?” Lucifer asks, genuine concern in his voice. You motion at your other hand, the one not interlaced in his at the full bottle of wine you held onto as you walked out.

“Fuck the section, I wanna go back to the hotel,” you say, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. Why did that have to happen? The night was nice, albeit awkward, and that guy had to go and ruin it, and Lucifer had to get involved. You can handle yourself, and Lucifer doesn’t get out much, and that place must have seemed so… so.

You hold out the wine for him, and he takes it and sips from it, wine spilling out onto his lips. Fucking hot, even in disguise.

“I was enjoying our quiet night, I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t,” you admit, inspecting your boots now as if they were immensely interesting.

“No! I just didn’t want to— to bore you,” Lucifer steps into your space, the toes of his shoes resting barely an inch from yours, and then a portal opens and his disguise fades, familiar red and gold on the other side.

You both step through, and find yourselves in the hallway that leads to his observatory.

Lucifer’s hand doesn’t leave yours though, not until you’re in the window covered room and staring out at all of Pentagram city. It’s almost beautiful from up here.

“I guess this was kind of a disaster, huh?” Lucifer tries to joke, but he cannot hide the way he winces at his own words.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you reply, but yes you fucking could. It was awkward and uncomfortable and neither of you had fun. But still…

“I got to spend time with you, I accidentally stole that bottle of wine so I saved money, and I got to hold your hand,” you listed out all the good things, all the things that made you want the night to last eternally.

“And we’re still hanging out!” Lucifer points out, and you cannot help but gravitate towards him again. He holds up the bottle to you, and you drink from it. The bottle his lips were just on. If you try hard enough, you could probably make out his taste from it.

He smiles brightly at you, and you cannot chicken out this time.

“Can I hold your hand again?” you ask, and his hand eagerly reaches for yours.

“Is that all you want to do?” he asks, leaning into you.

“Oh, I wanna do a lot to you,” you admit, smile growing as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“But I wanna take it slow tonight.”

[jerreeeeeee]

i don't think taako's voice is really all that high most of the time. it's higher than justin's normal voice a little, but idk, the defining quality of it isn't its pitch to me, there's something else that i don't really have the words for. but anyway i do notice that his voice gets lower and less exaggerated when he's being serious. which is interesting bc it sort of implies that the usual "taako voice" is something he puts on.

i don't really think of taako as a habitual performer. his charisma modifier is a -1, he's not this ultra smooth charming actor, and although he does tend to hide behind humor and is slow to build connections, he's also very frank with what he's about and what he wants. he goes on an entire tirade about wanting to talk about his feelings (he's multidimensional!), he never acts embarrassed or hesitant about big moments of vulnerability and caring for others (arms outstretched, "i'm not going fucking anywhere," admitting a deep fear to kravitz on their first date, spilling his tragic backstory to angus, not to mention several serious moments with lup) (and not all of these can be chalked up to "forgotten connections," either. he does have a foundation of growth with magnus and merle, even forgotten, and his conversations with lup are of course all with memories intact, but he does not have that with kravitz and angus). he's just slow to reveal all of his hidden depths, because of (understandable) trust issues. but all in all he's not nearly as closed off as i think fandom tends to portray him (which is not to say he's open, either), nor is he someone who wears a lot of masks and obscures himself. i don't think he hides his "true self."

sizzle it up was successful because of his intelligence, not his charisma. he's a natural teacher who's knowledgeable and passionate, and that was what made the show great, not his personality or performance (though i don't think those were bad. just not the primary appeal of the show. the only fan we see is ren, and she loved sizzle it up because it inspired her and taught her to cook, not because she thought taako was awesome or whatever). bc that's the thing, he's not a performer, but he is extremely adaptable. so when he's set up with a stagecoach and a show lined up, sure, he'll have a TV persona, he'll learn to be charming, he'll learn to be showy, when he's on stage. when he gets famous, he learns to like being famous, but i don't think it was really a dream of his before then. or at least not in the way people think of it. i don't think he ever wanted to be a celebrity as much as a celebrity chef or celebrity wizard. he doesn't care if people think he's pretty. he doesn't want people to adore him (before the voidfish, anyway. afterwards is a different story. there's a void where love used to be that he's desperate to fill, and adoration almost feels like it works). really what he wants is for people to appreciate his skill and intelligence and depth (and he's also very afraid of actually displaying those things. he's multidimensional).

but most of the time, when he's not literally performing for an audience, i just don't think he's putting on a show, desperate for people to like him and think he's charming. he'll do what he needs to do, say what he needs to say, be who he needs to be in any given circumstance, with strangers and antagonists, but he also drops the act when it's not necessary. or at least his performance is subtler. he performs stupidity, he performs nonchalance, he makes efforts to be funny (because he is always funny, but that's something you have to work for and always be thinking about, even when the humor is dry), he carefully does just enough to be useful, but not enough to raise expectations. he's very aware of how other people view him, but he's also perfectly okay with people thinking negatively about him—as long as they're the negative traits he wants people to see. but, he only does all those things in the beginning of the show; after a little while with magnus and merle, after a little while with the bob, he drops the act. so i guess that's the difference to me. he's adaptable out of necessity, it doesn't bleed into his entire life. i don't even really think i'd qualify it as a performance. it's more of an invisibility. he's not performing charisma to get people to like him, he's trying to lay low. but then when he actually wants people to like him, he's himself, fairly unapologetically. with the people who matter, lup, magnus and merle, kravitz, the other bob members, the other ipre crew, he's pretty comfortable with himself.

one last interesting point is that while he doesn’t seem to hesitate when it comes to actions, he does shy away from verbal displays of affection, trust, vulnerability. and the best two scenes to show that play out almost exactly the same: lup’s best day ever dinner, and dropping his disguise self with kravitz. in each, taako does something meaningful for both npcs, who then verbalize their affection for him, which taako immediately deflects with a joke.

taako drops his disguise spell for kravitz, totally honest with him, (although… i don’t tend to think the beauty sacrifice was as meaningful to taako as fandom tends to portray, i think most of his vanity is an exaggeration he intentionally cultivates, but still, it’s a vulnerable moment, he clearly cares what kravitz thinks), and kravitz tells him he loves him. to which taako replies with a joke. he does not return the words.

taako doesn’t hesitate to construct the best day ever for lup, never even questions why she’d ask. he puts it all together, cooks for her, shows her he knows her, he loves her—and then when she bears her heart to him, tells him he is her heart, all he says is, “i know,” and pulls out a bottle of vodka. of course lup knows he loves her, the whole day was an elaborate demonstration of it, but he doesn’t say anything. to be fair, it’s not exactly a typical interaction between them, taako is textually scared shitless, lup did just tell him she’s going to turn herself into an undead abomination, so he’s not exactly at his best here. but anyway.

i don’t really have anything to add to this observation, it’s just very consistent and interesting to me. taako is fairly comfortable with grand gestures, but sidesteps around words. which ties in perfectly with his identity as a chef, to me. cooking is an action, work, intention, cooking for people is an act of love, an act of connection, an act of caring, and taako’s character doesn’t fit the bill for that—except, he kinda really does.

[heartstringsduet]

It's a not-happy Wednesday but I thought not sharing art of any kind wouldn't be a solution to this. Instead have an extra long snippet of A Few Moons Ago. Open tag today though because I can't gage whether some people would mind. But I would love to be tagged back if you shared something you've created of any kind. 💓

The man huffs. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I know you’re a lot more lucid now, so unless there’s a reason, it would be a little easier if you shifted too so we could communicate properly.” They did communicate. Last night, as wolves, everything had seemed so easy. Nothing to misinterpret. He knew the gray wolf liked his scent, his company. Knew he liked to play and nudge his head against Carlos’. Even with a hazy memory, he feels like they spent the last night talking endlessly, despite no words exchanged.

“Carlitos, you can’t stay like this forever,” his mother used to say when he kid, small enough shifted into a cub to curl up in the lowest shelf of her cupboard. It smelled so much of her there, so comforting, that he whined whenever she pulled him out by the scruff on his neck. “Don’t you want to be a kid too? Play out with your human friends?”

Carlos would be back in her cupboard as soon as she turned her head.

Most days, this was easier. Being an alpha, transforming into a wolf whenever he wanted made talking less relevant. When life was complicated, fur was warm, gestures more forgiving with words lost to him. Right now, he finds himself wanting nothing more than to connect with this man on all levels though. Carlos extracts himself from the makeshift nest, feeling colder outside the cocooning scent of it, until he sits back in the corner of the truck bed.

“Wait!” The man says, but Carlos is already shifting before the word is finished.

Even if the sun had washed some of the moon lure away from Carlos’ brain, there is an extra set of clarity to his thoughts as he blinks his human eyes open. The world explodes back in color -- the one thing more vivid when other senses are dulled -- and the first thing Carlos eyes focus on instantly is the man in front of him.

He has the eyes of the forest - no, a forest creek - the hair the color of oak bark. Seashell pink lips, a hint of a stubble a lot of werewolves grow much quicker after a transformation. Sitting up, he covers his lap with the edge of the sleeping bag, before throwing a pillow at Carlos.

Carlos, who sits frog-legged from the position he was in as a wolf, is completely bared to him. Despite the much subtler scent after shifting, their arousal spills out between them, mingling in the air as its own scent. Carlos knows the man smells it too by the way his pupils widen and his tongue darts out.

He covers himself with a pillow anyway, because as much as nudity is more accepted in their culture, it’s not exactly normal to sit spread naked in a truck bed with a stranger. 

“Hi,” Carlos says, rolling back his shoulders to fold them out strong behind him. He likes the way the guys’ eyes flick down to look at the way his chest pops out for it. 

“Hey,” the man returns, his voice making Carlos’ heartbeat spike.

Silence falls between them, leaving the nightingales to greet this morning. Carlos decides to be the one to take the first step, see if the man follows.

“I’m Carlos.”

“TK.”

TK. Two letters that feel oddly too short to be filled with the grandeur he feels wafting off of him. He may be an omega, but he carries himself like an alpha. It’s the reason he stopped Carlos in his tracks last night.

“Nice to meet you,” says Carlos. “Hope you’re not too disappointed I’m not…who was it? I can’t really remember words too clearly, but I remember you asking me if I was someone famous?”

TK visibly swallows. “Brad Pitt.”

“Yeah, well…sorry?” Again: OPEN TAG. But please if you have something you created, of any kind, tag me and share some creativity and color with this world 💓 Thanks for tagging me @ironheartwriter

[blackjackkent]

So, I thought I'd already explored this whole place, pretty much, on Hector's run, and was just having Rakha go through all the motions in a different order, but @rhysintherain has informed me that there's a whole area down on the lower level that I didn't know you could reach at all, down by the feet of the giant Shar statue in the center of the temple!

Rakha wasn't really expecting to find the library with the Spear down here, and she's correct; in truth what led her down here, rather to her shame, is the lingering smell of the blood that stains the floor. There are long streaks of it, deep sticky puddles, and - most curiously - a small circle painted into the dirt by Shar's feet.

Rakha's heart clenches in her chest. She remembers another such circle painted in the dirt beneath Alfira's dead body. This one is smaller, though; considerably less elaborate, and surrounded by dark and unlit candles. The Shadowfell magic swirls around it in uneasy ripples.

A book lies on the floor at the circle's edge. One Becomes Many reads the title, almost obscured by dust, on the front page.

Rakha squints at these words in abject bewilderment. Only one word sticks out to her, dramatic and familiar - Raphael. She cannot tell if it it is a signature, an invocation, a warning...

The rest is subtler. The words are rhythmic, poetic, cryptic - but there is a spell at the center of them. Itori mustag.

She does not know what it means, but she can visualize the way those words would resonate through the Weave. She can imagine the spell even if she has never seen it. A splitting, a rending apart...

"This speaks of magic that can divide someone into many... but many what?"

A flicker of suspicion touches the back of her mind.

She crouches to examine the brazier nearby, which is filled with dried gore and the bones of some indeterminate animal.

As she reaches out and places a hand carefully on the brazier's edge, there's a shimmer of magic next to her and yet another rat appears out of the darkness, almost into the circle's center.

Narrator: The rat stares at you. It almost seems like it wants your attention.

The creature is much smaller than Scratch and Buddy - but nevertheless Rakha can see similarities in the rat's expression (such as it is) to the moments when Scratch wishes to beg for something - a piece of sausage from Rakha's dinner, or a scratch under his jaw, or a run through the woods.

She turns and squints more closely at the little animal, trying to parse the details of its behavior.

[ANIMAL HANDLING] Study the rat. Try to figure out what it wants.

Narrator: It wants you to leave it and its fellow rats in peace.

(A/N: I know there's more content here if you speak with animals; however as mentioned, I'm saving that for my stream playthrough. We have the option of backing up and leaving the rat in peace, at which point it just runs off. However, what follows if you attack it is FAR more interesting, and also has the added benefit of tying into the Dark Urge and making Rakha feel miserable yet again. So we'll go with that. ^_^ )

Pain spasms through Rakha's head. The beast's mocking laugh in the back of her mind - Peace? Hah. Kill it. The crunch of innocent bones under a boot; you know the song, how sweet it sounds. Her vision whites out.

"Rakha!" she hears Wyll shout. He knows the signs by now, and he has sworn to help her fight the urge... but she's too quick. Her boot stomps down on the creature's head and there's a light spray of blood in all directions.

Suddenly the cavern echoes with a cacophany of angry squeals, and around them the shadows come alive. From every corner surges a tide, a wave, of angry rats bearing down with teeth and claws.

------

This fight is WILD.

We get a series of increasingly large waves of rats coming in from all directions. They start out normal, but start to incorporate more "Necrotic Rats" (which have more health and do extra damage) and "Soporific Rats" (which explode on death and put the attacker to sleep).

You might also notice that there are several cats and dogs in the combatant list in this screenshot; that's because Rakha had to use Tides of Chaos to pass the animal handling check, and thus this happened when she cast her first fireball on the rat horde:

She transformed herself into a dog, Wyll into a cat, and several of the rats also into cats and dogs - which gave them more health and enhanced their combat options while severely limiting her own. Never let it be said wild magic doesn't keep things interesting, but to say Rakha was miserable during this whole process would be putting it VERY mildly.

She knows perfectly well what she did and why and she hates it, and now her magic has turned her into a dog to add insult to injury. It's not as bad as the sheep, at least.

The whole team was never really in danger of dying per se, at least not on easy mode, but nevertheless it definitely got a little hairy in the latter rounds when about fifteen rats were spawning onto the field at once.

Eventually, though, the waves slow, and then stop as they manage to finish off the last of the rats. And as the last one falls... its dead body begins to shiver and shake and tremble... and transform.

A form in Justiciar armor, similar to the empty armors they fought in front of Balthazar's lab. This one, though, is fleshed; there's a man inside it, and he is trembling violently as he staggers to his feet.

"These hands... too big..." he mumbles frantically. "Where are the others? Where's the rest of me?!"

His head lifts and his eyes fix on Rakha from behind the blank stare of his mask.

"You!" he howls. "Why did you have to keep prying? WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST LEAVE?"

She was right. That spell - itori mustag - a spell of splitting, of rending. It turned this man into all the rats that she has seen scurrying around the temple. Has he been here since Ketheric's Sharran forces were driven out? Has he been here, housed in all the rats, for a century?

"Hold on," she says. "Who are you?"

"Lyrthindor. Last Dark Justiciar," the man hisses. His voice has a skittering, hectic quality to it, very akin to the chittering beasts he inhabited. "I kept watch over Lady Shar's temple. Kept the faith alive, after all the others were killed."

He fumbles unsteadily for the sword at his belt. "But you ruined it!" he yelps. "Trespassed! Spoiled our-- my-- secret. Now you'll rot in the dark!"

(A/N: There are a few dialogue options here, but none of them are Rakha-ish - one apology, one assertion that there's no need for violence, and one claim that all Sharrans are better off dead. The other option is to attack, and all of the dialogue leads to violence at this point anyway, so...)

Attack.

Rakha sees him move, sees the blade halfway out of its sheathe-- and she moves first, swinging her quarterstaff around to clock him at the hinge of his skull. His head snaps sideways with a loud crack and he falls into a still pile at her feet without a sound.

-----

(Annoyingly, we don't have the option to talk to Shadowheart about this at all; this seems like something she should have a reaction to. But that's FINE, I'll do it myself. XD )

As soon as the Justiciar is dead, Rakha's arms fall to her sides and she scowls, turning away sharply. "Damn," she mutters, and stalks away to begin clambering back up the slope that led them here. "Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn..."

Wyll has no love in particular for the Dark Justiciars, but he does nevertheless look at Shadowheart with an apologetic expression. "Sorry," he says.

"It's not your fault," she answers. She is looking at the corpse with great intensity. "We all saw what happened. Rakha--"

"Let her be," Lae'zel says abruptly, tone rough. "We saw indeed. And we know that was not her."

She glances at Wyll, who nods. "I should have been watching for it," he mutters. "I told her I would..."

Silence. Shadowheart sighs heavily. "He said he was the last Justiciar. All the more reason I must be strong. I must find the Spear and complete the trials and be a new hand for the Dark Lady." But in spite of the confidence of the words, she doesn't move for a long time, just stares down at the dead man's body with a troubled expression playing around her lips.

[tanadrin]

The invention of the basic BCI was revolutionary, though it did not seem so at the time. Developing implantable electronics that could detect impulses from, and provide feedback to, the body's motor and sensory neurons was a natural outgrowth of assistive technologies in the 21st century. The Collapse slowed the development of this technology, but did not stall it completely; the first full BCI suite capable of routing around serious spinal cord damage, and even reducing the symptoms of some kinds of brain injury, was developed in the 2070s. By the middle of the 22nd century, this technology was widely available. By the end, it was commonplace.

But we must distinguish, as more careful technologists did even then, between simpler BCI--brain-computer interfaces--and the subtler MMI, the mind-machine interface. BCI technology, especially in the form of assistive devices, was a terrific accomplishment. But the human sensory and motor systems, at least as accessed by that technology, are comparatively straightforward. Despite the name, a 22nd century BCI barely intrudes into the brain at all, with most of its physical connections being in the spine or peripheral nervous system. It does communicate *with* the brain, and it does so much faster and more reliably than normal sensory input or neuronal output, but there nevertheless still existed in that period a kind of technological barrier between more central cognitive functions, like memory, language, and attention, and the peripheral functions that the BCI was capable of augmenting or replacing.

*That* breakthrough came in the first decades of the 23rd century, again primarily from the medical field: the subarachnoid lace or neural lace, which could be grown from a seed created from the patient's own stem cells, and which found its first use in helping stroke patients recover cognitive function and suppressing seizures. The lace is a delicate web of sensors and chemical-electrical signalling terminals that spreads out over, and carefully penetrats certain parts of the brain; in its modern form, its function and design can be altered even after it is implanted. Most humans raised in an area with access to modern medical facilities have at least a diagnostic lace in place; and, in most contexts, they are regarded as little more than a medical tool.

But of course some of the scientists who developed the lace were interested in pushing the applications of the device further, and in this, they were inspired by the long history of attempts to develop immersive virtual reality that had bedevilled futurists since the 20th century. Since we have had computers capable of manipuating symbolic metaphors for space, we have dreamed of creating a virtual space we can shape to our hearts' content: worlds to escape to, in which we are freed from the tyranny of physical limitations that we labor under in this one. The earliest fiction on this subject imagined a kind of alternate dimension, which we could forsake our mundane existence for entirely, but outside of large multiplayer games that acted rather like amusement parks, the 21st century could only offer a hollow ghost of the Web, bogged down by a cumbersome 3D metaphor users could only crudely manipulate.

The BCI did little to improve the latter--for better or worse, the public Web as we created it in the 20th century is in its essential format (if not its scale) the public Web we have today, a vast library of linked documents we traverse for the most part in two dimensions. It feeds into and draws from the larger Internet, including more specialized software and communications systems that span the whole Solar System (and which, at its margins, interfaces with the Internet of other stars via slow tightbeam and packet ships), but the metaphor of physical space was always going to be insufficient for so complex and sprawling a medium.

What BCI really revolutionized was the massively multiplayer online game. By overriding sensory input and capturing motor output before it can reach the limbs, a BCI allows a player to totally inhabit a virtual world, limited only by the fidelity of the experience the software can offer. Some setups nowadays even forgo overriding the motor output, having the player instead stand in a haptic feedback enclosure where their body can be scanned in real time, with only audio and visual information being channeled through the BCI--this is a popular way to combine physical exercise and entertainment, especially in environments like space stations without a great deal of extra space.

Ultra-immersive games led directly, I argue, to the rise of the Sodalities, which were, if you recall, originally MMO guilds with persistent legal identities. They also influenced the development of the Moon, not just by inspiring the Sodalities, but by providing a channel, through virtual worlds, for socialization and competition that kept the Moon's political fragmentation from devolving into relentless zero-sum competition or war. And for most people, even for the most ardent players of these games, the BCI of the late 22nd century was sufficient. There would always be improvements in sensory fidelity to be made, and new innovations in the games themselves eagerly anticipated every few years, but it seemed, even for those who spent virtually all their waking hours in these spaces, that there was little more that could be accomplished.

But some dreamers are never satisfied; and, occasionally, such dreamers carry us forward and show us new possibilities. The Mogadishu Group began experimenting with pushing the boundaries of MMI and the ways in which MMI could augment and alter virtual spaces in the 2370s. Mare Moscoviensis Industries (the name is not a coincidence) allied with them in the 2380s to release a new kind of VR interface that was meant to revolutionize science and industry by allowing for more intuitive traversal of higher-dimensional spaces, to overcome some of the limits of three-dimensional VR. Their device, the Manifold, was a commercial disaster, with users generally reporting horrible and heretofore unimagined kinds of motion-sickness. MMI went bankrupt in 2387, and was bought by a group of former Mogadishu developers, who added to their number a handful of neuroscientists and transhumanists. They relocated to Plato City, and languished in obscurity for about twenty years.

The next anybody ever heard of the Plato Group (as they were then called), they had bought an old interplanetary freighter and headed for the Outer Solar System. They converted their freighter into a cramped-but-servicable station around Jupiter, and despite occasionally submitting papers to various neuroscience journals and MMI working groups, little was heard from them. This prompted, in 2410, a reporter from the Lunar News Service to hire a private craft to visit the Jupiter outpost; she returned four years later to describe what she found, to general astonishment.

The Plato Group had taken their name more seriously, perhaps, than anyone expected: they had come to regard the mundane, real, three-dimensional world as a second-rate illusion, as shadows on cave walls. But rather than believing there already existed a true realm of forms which they might access by reason, they aspired to create one. MMI was to be the basis, allowing them to free themselves not only of the constraints of the real world (as generations of game-players had already done), but to free themselves of the constraints imposed on those worlds by the evolutionary legacy of the structures of their mind.

They decided early on, for instance, that the human visual cortex was of little use to them. It was constrained to apprehending three-dimensional space, and the reliance of the mind on sight as a primary sense made higher-dimensional spaces difficult or impossible to navigate. Thus, their interface used visual cues only for secondary information--as weak and nondirectional a sense as smell. They focused on using the neural lace to control the firing patterns of the parts of the brain concerned with spatial perception: the place cells, neurons which periodically fire to map spaces to fractal grides of familiar places, and the grid cells, which help construct a two-dimensional sense of location. Via external manipulation, they found they could quickly accommodate these systems to much more complex spaces--not just higher dimensions, but non-Euclidean geometries, and vast hierarchies of scale from the Planck length to many times the size of the observable universe.

The goal of the Plato Group was not simply to make a virtual space to inhabit, however transcendent; into that space they mapped as much information they could, from the Web, the publicly available internet, and any other database they could access, or library that would send them scans of its collection. They reveled in the possibilities of their invented environment, creating new kinds of incomprehensible spatial and sensory art. When asked what the purpose of all this was--were they evangelists for this new mode of being, were they a new kind of Sodality, were they secessionists protesting the limits of the rest of the Solar System's imagination?--they simply replied, "We are happy."

I do not think anyone, on the Moon or elsewhere, really knew what to make of that. Perhaps it is simply that the world they inhabit, however pleasant, is so incomprehensible to us that we cannot appreciate it. Perhaps we do not want to admit there are other modes of being as real and moving to those who inhabit them as our own. Perhaps we simply have a touch of chauvanism about the mundane. If you wish to try to understand yourself, you may--unlike many other utopian endeavors, the Plato Group is still there. Their station--sometimes called the Academy by outsiders, though they simply call it "home"--has expanded considerably over the years. It hangs in the flux tube between Jupiter and Io, drawing its power from Jupiter's magnetic field, and is, I am told, quite impressive if a bit cramped. You can glimpse a little of what they have built using an ordinary BCI-based VR interface; a little more if your neural lace is up to spec. But of course to really understand, to really see their world as they see it, you must be willing to move beyond those things, to forsake--if only temporarily--the world you have been bound to for your entire life, and the shape of the mind you have thus inherited. That is perhaps quite daunting to some. But if we desire to look upon new worlds, must we not always risk that we shall be transformed?

--Tjungdiawain’s Historical Reader, 3rd edition

[bugcatcherwill]

hi again. I CAN'T STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT THEM TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME [DON'T]

ohhhhh it feels like it's been so long since I've drawn monsters but I FINALLY FIGURED OUT A COMFORTABLE WAY TO DRAW THEM even if they're CATACLYSMICALLY STYLIZED it's easier to draw them like that so,,,,

PLUS I love the idea for ratc specifically where you wrote that the blins would start growing hair/fur and stuff and it's been all in my head and just generally I love drawing monsters with fur/feathers and whatever,,

how I draw them I think I've said before but I love giving bokoblins and moblins short coarse hair/fur like hogs/boars BUT WHEN I WAS COMING UP WITH A DESIGN FOR WIZZROBES I think I maybe possibly could have cooked,,, I like to imagine wizzrobes have feathers instead of fur or whatever but NOT AT ALL like how birds or rito have feathers. they mostly have downy feathers which are more like soft fur and "flight" feathers only in places like their lower legs, sides, necks, and under their ears to make them more like,,, 'aerodynamic' or whatever since they spend a lot of time goofing off on the air,, idk though HCJDJJCDHJF

I swear I tried to resist the urge to draw the little imp tail since there was a whole bit at the beginning where there was a WHOLE POINT about rezek NOT having a tail but THE VOICES GOT ME AND I COULDN'T HELP IT,,, EUAHHFDHF

anyways excuse the whole ramble I'm just. NOT normal about these two [and wizzrobes/bokoblins in general they're literally my favorites and I'm blaming you for that] and I need to let the voices out

OOOOOOOOOOOO YES YES I LOVE THE FUZZY BOKOBLIN AND THE SLIGHTLY-FEATHERY WIZZROBE DESIGNS

Literally the first thing I considered when thinking about eventually turning RATC into its own original novel (when its finished whenever that happens lol) is to give the Wizzrobes those types of shorter subtler feathers. Where you could only tell they're feathers by running your hand across.

AND ALSO THIS POSE IS SO,,,,,,THE TAIL THUMPING???? I'm going insane

I LOVE THE WAY U DO BOKOBLINS THEYRE SO PIGGY,,,

[juniperhillpatient]

ok I finished episode one of the incest cannibalism satan worshipping game & I have to say I really do like it so far. its very fun in a homestuck kind of way & the best part is definitely the characterizations. I was worried for a second there they’d lean too hard into ashley as some kind of deranged yandere who was always crazy & just looking for a chance & I’d be put off by the 1 dimensionality but it’s actually really neat the way flashbacks show that yes she’s always had violent side & been a little too possessive of andrew but in ways that could be discounted in their regular lives.

the slow descent into feeling there was NO other choice but to start making these depraved decisions is really the thing I love about stories like this & I feel like I’ve only talked about ashley so far but andrew is really interesting in a subtler way. ashley copes with humor but andrew copes with…. denial? he refuses to face the truth of what he’s done - what he keeps doing. he pretends he’s more normal & well adjusted than he is while continuing down this dark path & feigning disgust in his demeanor while showing otherwise with his actions. which says everything about the main relationship actually because these two aren’t tied together by pretty promises - they’re talk of a romantic joint suicide mangling their copses together is played off as a dark joke & they’re typically bickering or talking about action rather than how much they love each other when they have conversations - but they’re still consistently killing & maiming together & for each other.

I think it’s pretty telling that episode 1 ended with ashley joking that andrew is stuck with her & him saying that’s nothing new followed by a rare quiet moment where she asks if that’s how he really feels. then we get him pulling her closer physically with action (the thing that means everything between these 2) & joking with his words (something that means very little) that yeah he’s totally stuck. it’s a scene that I feel like is supposed to tell us everything we need to know about these characters & the journey they’re on. I can’t wait to see what insanity they get up to next….

[biomorphic-beast]

After using the new desktop layout for a while I can safely say it sucks.

Not because it very similar to how Twitter looks but because it is took the twitter layout and made it worse.

Lets look at both and compare.. There is the old version of twitter. (I refuse to acknowledge X)

And here is the current tumblr layout. Though I would like to note that I use Firefox.

Note everything I am gonna say others have already said and done by other users so nothing here is new. Just that these are the things that made the most sense to me. 1. It's cramped. Everything has been squashed into the center when it really doesn't need to be. It might be done in order to look closer to the app. However, the app has its own set up and isn't just using shrunken down version of the desktop as far I can tell. Yet this empty space couldn't be used for ads since ads take the form of sponsored posts. Also I have my adblocker turned off for Tumblr so I would likely know if it was being used for banner ads.

Dispite all of this there is somehow more empty space of tumblr that there was on twitter.

2. Its hard to read.

When the new layout was put into action I found myself really struggling to read the posts as my eyes would glide over to the left. At first I thought is was because of the sidebar yet I found other websites with a sidebar don't have this problem for me. However one user, whom I can't find the orignal post, pointed out that by having everything near the center goes against how the eye normally flows when reading. they noted that depending on the native language most will eithe read from left to right or right to left. Considering most of tumblr users seem to speak English in one way or another the eye is used to starting from the left side. With everything being centered to makes tricky for the eye to follow the text that little bit more.

This is where the principle of "eye flow" which refers to the way the eyes will navigate a website.

Twitter also has a similarly awful layout but at the very least looks like it has given more space the the main posts. I guess.

3. The activity tab. The activity tab when opened covers up whatever post you are looking at which just looks awful and only really adds to this claustrophilic feeling.

4. The notifications.

A lot of people including myself find the design of the too distracting of even overwhelming. I am not sure how this could be fixed other than going for a subtler design or having some sort of ablity to turn of nofications.

I am sure there is more that I am not aware off or just don't bother me. I don't thing this layout is doomed but right now it just feels like the first draft.

Remember that you can give feedback via tumblrs own help center. @ing staff will only do so much.

[sasukimimochi]

Making a post cuz i'm bothered by this and i see this kind of cringe-control type behavior around a lot. i don't think people are doing it maliciously half the time but when you don't know something you don't know and i think people should understand how it's actually quite controlling/hurtful.

Putting it under read more cuz i'm going to talk about pg-13 and above topics.

(there isn't anything explicit, just words are mentioned, thus why the keep reading line.)

This hasn't happened to me like, i haven't been told these words are cringe to my face but i see many posts about it.

but... i do use "cringe" typical words.

people will say don't call +18/explicit content "lewd/spicy/lemon"

people will say don't use "length/member/shaft" etc and these are just two categories i'm referencing here cuz i can't think of more off the top of my head. the abundance of examples here though isn't important.

now as you probably know i already use at least two of the words mentioned. i'm not saying my reasons are the same for others, but i hate seeing the posts saying that it's because you're too ashamed of what you're talking/reading etc about and then ranting about how cringe it is.

i can talk in explicit detail about +18 topics, but i personally cringe at the words sex/cock/balls/hot/sexy/dick etc like...my reasoning isn't that i'm ashamed of what i'm talking about, its that the words make me uncomfortable and i think they're words that aren't for me due to the vulgar vibe i get from them. you can like those words all you want though, just like how i can like my words all i want!

judging people for using specific words is the dumbest thing i've seen lately in my opinion (other than obvious important things going on in the world, let's not get that specific). i can understand if it's like, genuinely offensive or something. But this is different, these words are just straight up harmless- when did spicy even get put in the cringe category? you allergic to someone saying a picture/piece of writing is spicy?

tbh i have two reasons for using the subtler words like spicy, which i tend to actually use most often along with the word "length/erection" instead of "cock/dick". one of the reasons is a very simple one: tumblr does some weird shit if you put the abbreviation for not safe for work in your post (i did once and it scared me cuz something popped up saying something about changing my content and i was like asdfs??? but anyway i'm not trying it again), and second, i have some type of aversion to certain words. it has nothing to do with the conversation i'm having and all to do with the word.

I use the word "explicit" most often to replace n*fw, because of tumblrs issues with the content, but i have and will still call such content all three: you won't catch me calling it sex/porn etc because i find it personally a lot to mentally handle. I imagine a lot of these other words being used aren't only because of someone wanting to come up with other ways to write the terms, but for reasons like mine, where the words are disconcerting.

i get a similar feeling whenever someone says a character/person is "hot/sexy", i hate it, idk how to feel about it, it feels uncomfortable, but i absolutely agree that the person/character looks good! but you won't catch me ever calling anyone/anything by those.

like, there's a long list of terms i hate but are completely normal for the average person. You will not see me using them, but i don't judge you for it. i know its normal and i'm not out here to control your lives.

however i see so many people getting annoyed at these "cringier" word choices and i gotta say, live a little. embrace some cringe. it's not gonna kill you to see them just as it doesn't kill me to see descriptions in writing going on about cock and balls like its some elegant poetry.

let people live. enjoy your own life. i'll stick to saying slit, you stick to saying vagina. i'll stick to saying length, you say cock.

but stop making fun of people for it.

stop telling people they're doing it for no good reason.

obviously, you will never know if someone else identifies with what i've said.

so you shouldn't judge strangers and say they're ashamed and/or what they're saying is cringe- i fucking love explicit content. i get happy/excited about it too. i just do it differently in the way that makes me comfortable.

If you're uncomfortable with me using words that make me comfortable, then that's a you problem, i'd say.

[the-hem]

"Nobility and Beauty." From the Maha Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Atman.

The Upanishads teach the creation is steady in its radiation and perception of its own graces. There are no flaws in the manner in which the universe operates. We are the only flaw. When we act with the heightened intelligences we are capable of, very little goes wrong.

It is true there are natural disasters, but we have ways of anticipating and overcoming even these. The real troubles on this planet stem from an unwillingness to become detached from the causes of unnatural disasters all which come from warfare.

Humanity has started acting, once again as if a new world war is inevitable. Instead of queling this fear, we are fanning it to a new level of tension as if there were no other way of dealing with our problems.

The Maha Upanishad has a few good suggestions:

IV-58-63. O great sage, of the three kinds of ether (space) namely the mental, spiritual and gross, know the spiritual one to be (emptier) subtler than the other two.

When the perception passes from one place to another, the interval is to be known as the spiritual region in a moment when you reach the stage where all ideations are rejected, then surely you will reach the state of All Quiet.

 That condition (state) is Samadhi which excludes bliss and contains the essence of detachment of Nobility and Beauty – when joy arises strongly by the realization of the falseness of the visible world and like and dislike thin away. This realization is indeed the knowledge and its object, spiritual in nature – only that is the sole state – all else is false.

Every delusion we treat as fact has to be rejected. This is the only way to implore the Spirit of God to the side of mankind and help it grow our levels of humanity. The planet is being marred, we barely recovered from the corona virus and every nation on this planet is either making weapons or their victims.

The Heat Belt that is killing life on this world is barely a concern and this is a mistake. The first thing meditation, which teaches the mind how to grow still and achieve what is called Samadhi, "a state of complete stillness" teaches us is that we are mortal. Life is a fragile figment of our imagination if we do not handle it properly.

We can and will die, it is possible any second and no one said it has to be pretty when it happens. This is why every single day must be as still as possible so we can add the things that matter to the mind and absorb them into the meditation which is normally used to reject the riddles of life instead.

[purgemarchlockdown]

pleae tell us about the advertisement quality of Cat and This Is How To Be In Love With You @tsuwmya replied.

Im glad I have followers who enable me, anyway:

So This is How to Be In Love With You and Cat have this advertisement sales-like quality to them that I fixate on whenever I think about them. I'll talk TIHTBILWY first cause its much easier to explain, it's a magazine!

While it's portrayed in a sort of personal diary way, it's Undeniably a magazine. This panel shows the front and the back, with little listings of the clothing and what they add to your look and outfit. TIHTBILWY is Selling you the idea of a perfect romantic relationship between two people. One that we know was Not At All Perfect.

It's designed to be mass-market appealing and desirable. You could have this too! All you have to do is these simple things! This translation of this frame has the stuff in parenthesis translated as:

How to be someone anyone can fall in love with! A 16 day memorial Produced by Mahiru Shiina

But since it's an ad, it loses that sense of sincerity and honesty. It's manufactured beauty. Something that's manufactures for Us the audience (and for society as whole.) So that Mahiru and her boyfriend are seen as the Normal Heterosexual Relationship.

Cat on the other hand is a bit subtler about this but it's still Present, for one It abides by KISS (Keep it simple, stupid)

I'm familiar with this being used in animation, but it is also used in advertisements, since clarity and visual communication is Super important. It's why companies have made their logos simpler and simpler and why Corporate Memphis is a plague on this earth.

Not only that but it utilizes halftones and typography! Making it feel more printed and like something you would find in a newspaper advertising a new product. Plus the major colors used (yellow, cyan, magenta) are also ink printing colors!

Cat is Extremely performative, it's clean, it's Safe.

This is just Kazui trying to sell the perfect happy marriage to the rest of society. Heck he even poses like a salesman presenting something to you in this shot!

Again, there is not Honesty here. It's selling you an idea. But the advertisement breaks down over time before falling apart into a bloody mess.

EXCEPT THIS IS ITS OWN PERFORMANCE! KAZUI FEELS GUILTY AND IS TRYING TO SELL YOU THE IDEA THAT HE IS A BRUTAL HORRIBLE MAN! THAT HE IS A VIOLENT PERPETRATOR!

There's Two scenes where this border isn't on screen and I firmly believe those are the only scenes where Kazui isn't trying to sell us on an idea. Or at least isn't performing.

Love as something that needs to be performed and sold to wider society is a FANTASTIC visual and I LOVE IT DEARLY

*grips table* someone please ask me about the advertisement quality of Cat and This Is How To Be In Love With You......sanitized ad of love and romance delivered to you for $1.99! It makes me go insane.....

[silverflame2724]

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere. 

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking. 

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking. 

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly. 

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family. 

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan. 

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen. 

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction. 

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.  

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means. 

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible. 

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life. 

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face. 

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world. 

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes. 

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

.

.

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods. 

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down. 

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint.  “But.....this......how?” 

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

[mishervellous]

One thing I particularly don’t love about the portrayal of bipolar in Shameless is the lack of nuance. Both when Ian is depressed or manic. There’s so much more to that, so many little things that may come acrosss as indicators that don’t necessarily mean he’s too far gone. I wish they had explored that

i absolutely agree! i do also understand why those first few months they would let it escalate to the point where it did, nobody knew what was really going on and i think they wanted his disorder to come across as clear as possible to make the audience understand. but yeah, not enough nuance after that

like don’t get me wrong, i do like how they let Ian lead a normal life, but i also don’t trust the writers enough to say with certainty it was intentional on their part dnsksnsj if they had acknowledged its subtler aspects then maybe yes, but it was either none or full speed so i don’t think it was purposeful lmao

it would’ve been nice to see Mickey learn his cues, you know? they almost gave us that but not really dnsksnsj like if they’re fighting and Ian seems a bit too invested or angry Mickey notices, sits down with him after and asks him if everything is ok. something healthier for the both of them! if he runs too much, wakes up too early, goes to bed too late he notices.

not to say that you can’t do those things and still be perfectly stable, but it would’ve been nice to see Mickey checking up on his husband, making sure he’s safe and happy

but hey, that’s what fanfictions are for 😌

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

The "weird" thing

The most difficult aspect of "weird" is to remain aware at all times that the story is "weird" in that way, that the reader's sense of normalcy will at some point fail in its duty.

This is the paradox of a "weird" story. A "weird" story isn't normal by default; it challenges the reader to keep up with it.

Of course, it's always easier to say "I can't relate to this story, and in some sense that is an intrinsic quality of the story that makes it so different."

In which case, why not just call it a "weird story," in the way that you'd call it a "weird story" if it had any other qualities at all? What's so special about that one?

At any rate, if you're writing your own fiction and you're using "weird" to mean something other than a technical lack of plausibility, you might start with the words "I can't relate to this story, but also it's totally unique and different from anything you've ever read, it's really weird, I love it!"

There are certain sorts of readers who are very excited about being able to relate to what they call "weird" things, and others who are bored or irritated by them. These different sorts of people often read things with very different expectations about whether a given work will challenge their sense of normalcy.

"Weirdness" has nothing to do with how strange or strange-looking the content is -- if a reader can see the plot points in the text and find them comprehensible, what more is there to understand? A sense that something is "weird" is that of some gap in the world perceived through a gap in one's own perceptual apparatus. If a person says "I can't relate to this story, but it was very interesting," that isn't saying "it wasn't interesting," that's saying "I can't imagine how I would have any sense of interest if I hadn't made a gap in myself that made the story comprehensible."

This gap is not unique, but there are different kinds of gaps one can make.

1. The space gap

There are readers who become very excited about fiction that has no gap at all -- it's all consistent. The story's lack of "weirdness" can seem, to them, like a quality. The very "weird" character of "weird fiction" is its lack of space.

I've never experienced this myself -- I guess it's possible, I don't know -- but one imagines that it would be very draining, perhaps even impossible. Like trying to keep one's self in the world.

This is what frustrates some people, that people can tell a story and it has a sense of being "weird" in a way that isn't space. The "weird" feeling is very distinct from "unrelatable." You could read a "weird" story that was just about the most ordinary things, for example, and it wouldn't give you this sense of missing space. That is one kind of "weird feeling."

Other readers may be looking for an experience very different from this. They might say "I can relate to stories in which there isn't any space; it is totally strange how ordinary things happen!"

This is the most obvious kind of the "weird feeling" and it's also the most basic, but there are some subtler kinds.

2. Space and scale

A sense of being challenged by space is one of the most natural kinds of the "weird feeling" but there are other kinds, too. These are more subtle and less natural.

For example, the sense of scale can be very large. If your world contains the Sun, you might feel like you're not in some sense "missing space" because there's plenty of space, right? But, of course, that's not what's going on.

I'm not saying the "weird feeling" is never connected to the quality of being "totally unique and different from anything you've ever read." These things do often go together and all I'm saying is that the nature of these connections is something that can take a little thought.

For example, I mentioned earlier that it's very common for "weird fiction" stories to take the form of "what if something was more than it is now?" But this kind of story -- where things change scale, where things become larger or smaller, where things are in a different position or time, where the "natural" thing is a tiny part of a much larger world, etc. -- can't be "weird," really. It's all "normal."

Maybe you're not sure if you see what I'm getting at here? I guess the "weird" feeling isn't so much that there's nothing in there, although that's certainly a part of it, but rather that there's space -- but of some size rather than any specific size. Space can be as large or small as the mind wants.

And there is also the sense that these stories are somehow not like "natural" things, where the elements go together. This sense can be more subtle than "space" and has to do with scale and time -- like there is "natural time" and then there is some "weird" time, that is outside of any notion of ordinary time and not connected to any notion of ordinary space.

Of course, it's not really that time has to be "weird" that makes it "weird" fiction. We also talk about time in this way, when we say "weird time" or "weird historical time" or whatever. It's not that there's nothing in the world to connect the time and space of "weird fiction."

Rather, it's more that there is a quality of "weirdness," as distinct from "relatability" and "consistency," of the kind that comes from a different space than usual -- and this space can be as big as one likes.

3. Internal sense of scale

Here is another kind of "weird feeling," not in space, but in the world. A sense that things are very large or very small, that there are very many things happening, that the world's space is very large compared to the space you've grown up in.

This is harder to describe.

Keep reading

[gensokyogarden]

Nazrin watched her partner's way through the laser gride with interest. It was a different approach than she'd taken but it was certainly effective. He had quite the talent for this, she was impressed. It seemed they'd both found a quite talented infiltrator to work with. Great! Neither would have to worry about the other slowing them down.

"Excellent use of your danmaku. Whatever architects worked on this castle were incredible trap makers, but they weren't ready for either of us."

A confident smile was on her face before she cracked into laughter. Normally when she worked with someone else they were playing a different role, the muscle, the face, a magical expert. It was a bit different to partner up with another master of stealth. They might just have to work another job together sometime.

"Lets just hope there's not much more like that. Showing off can be fun but sprinting like that is exhausting."

It'd taken most of Kurohebi's own journey across the hall for Nazrin to catch her breath. During that time her attention had turned towards the door at the hall's end. It was locked. The fairy that had been dusted midway through the hall must have come from the other direction. A shame she didn't think to check the dust pile for a set of keys. Not really worth the risk of stopping in the middle of the hall anyways, there were always other ways through.

While Kurohebi had run the hall, she chose to not fiddle with the door. The last thing that he needed was for it to trigger some other form of trap. Now that they were both safely on the same side there was no need for such caution. With a bit of time she could pick the lock and her youkai strength was likely enough to knock it off the hinges. Nazrin, however, favored a subtler option.

She gave a signal to the mouse kept in her little cup. The brave thing had managed the whole way across the hall with her. Now it leapt from its place and to the ground. With the talent that it was known for, the mouse squeezed beneath the door's frame. For a few moments there was silence but then a squeak from the other side of the door.

When Nazrin's hand met with the door handle, it easily twisted. The mouse had unlocked it from the other side. With gentle care Nazrin opened it and then gestured towards it.

"After you, partner."

Ignoring the flute playing, Kurohebi focuses on the currently more important matters. The hall in front of him seems the best bet, and a little dusty. No need to go up and feel the dust to know who produced it.

He is also quick to predict the attempted head grab, moving it away to avoid any use. Not one to loose his very precious clothing and all. Far more willing to let this cheese get thrown out to prove the ultimate point.

"Geeze, you're making me feel like an amateur here."

Even if it was partially just being a devil's advocate, her partner in crime still managed to be wrong about this. But the gist of this danmaku trap was quickly understood.

"So they managed to make a sort of laser grid? Rather impressive for a place so steeped in tradition. Still I can clearly see it's flaws. Maybe I could-"

And just then, he's stunned to silence.

If this was a laser maze, Nazrin was the expert mouse that could get through it in one go. And that's exactly what had happened in front of his glued to the action eyes. To say he was impressed was underestimating it.

"Wow."

The lightshow sure revealed her skill, and now he'll need to do his part to get through the gauntlet. But what would do it? He's not quite sure if his innate ability will fool the thing, so that's out of it. The other application seems to be too lazy. And...for pride's sake, he can't just copy her footsteps. Not for lack of shortness.

There's only one way here.

"Nah."

With that one word he gets to it. From his hands a set of glowing knives would suddenly appear, tossed out into the hall in a precise order and manner. These disposable danmaku weaved through already observed patterns in the system by Nazrin's run, until hitting a precise point as Kurohebi already broke into a run into it.

The defense grid quickly activates and starts attacking at the many targets now in front of it. The knives are quickly obliterated, not even enough to stop the lasers as they went along. Along enough to slam into one that almost blasted Kurohebi in the face.

Lasers are of course triggered by the passing of knifes, but not in any truly intended way. After all, the last thing an attacker would do stuck in the middle of a laser mess was to fire back at anything but the assumed source of the trap. Destruction, evasion, avoidance. Yet he'd found another action. Disruption.

Kurohebi was doing his best with the second as this went on, weaving and dodging by reflex more than one could assume of a human. He remained quick about it for sure, but there was an ever changing pace to it. One time he'd take a moment to throw in more decoys, another he'd suddenly go into a roll to blaze past one annoyingly placed laser blast.

He was almost like a machine at this point, though not perfect. Evident by his final timed jump over the last set of lasers slicing into the long part of his jacket. But he was good enough not to get hit.

"I'll do my own spin on it."