#that's WHY i'm trying to present a different perspective

[ursula-legun]

very much could be wrong about this, but IIRC much of the benefits for deer (and, I'm assuming for now, similarly positioned cervids) in this situation apply at a population level, rather than an individual level.

For areas where natural predators are present at a level that effects deer behavior - while individual deer may experience fear, death, injury, etcetera, deer in general are more mobile, less prone towards certain (extremely dense) levels of congregation, and have a smaller population per area.

This stabilizes the availability of browsable/foragable food, and diminishes the prevalence of some diseases which propagate more readily through dense populations. For example, the growing prevalence of chronic wasting disease is thought to be bolstered by a lack of anxiety in deer; that lack of anxiety is allowing deer to socialize in larger groups and for longer periods of time, as well as spend more time in one area (CWD spreads at least partially via feces and saliva.) This increases the number of transmission vectors as well as the duration of exposure for each vector; so while the emotional experience of each deer may be more dramatic, and likely much more frightening, the health of the deer overall is significantly improved by that fear.

From a philosophical perspective - or ethological, take your pick - I also don't think we should assume that the human experiences surrounding anxiety and pursuit necessarily map well onto the internal experiences of nonhuman animals. Some naturalists/ecologists I was studying with a few years specifically highlighted this very context when talking about the importance of, and difficulties pertaining to, trying to not project human decisionmaking on nonhuman life.

To paraphrase, at length, one of the lessons they taught - we can't directly see the motivations of deer, let alone the interiority of their experience. All we can see is the decisions they make, and we try our best to infer from there. We often see deer flee from mild stimuli, and we therefore assume that deer live in a state of constant terror and anxiety, the conditions that would create a similar sort of behavior in us. But we are not deer! Our bodies are not predisposed towards flight in the way deer are; deer are suited to run far faster, and more frequently, than humans, and it seems safer to assume that they flee at a different threshold of internal motivation, if not an entirely different quality of motivation altogether.

This first sort of assumption is the exact kind of thinking that is warned against when people talk about the dangers of anthropomorphization. There's also the influence of societal views on violence and predation; violence in humans is often framed as something that's a guilty pleasure, a base desire that needs to be abstained from for the good of society, except when it's "unfortunately necessary" (for whatever conditions any group considers to be necessary.) This is frequently projected wholesale onto nonhuman, and especially interspecies, depictions of violence; to give a slightly exaggerated description of this current context as an example, it is presumed that the natural inclination of deer is to be grazing restfully, and that this is both pleasurable and right. It is then presumed that the Violent Predator, due to their unconscionable desires, intrudes upon this restful state by pursuing the deer; we consider this to be offensive from the deer's perspective, and vaguely immoral - if, at best, "unfortunately necessary" - when we judge the actions of the predator.

However....there are other ways of looking at this. Deer run at the slightest provocation, often "spooking" at stimuli as minimal as e.g. a falling branch. Why do we assume that this is unpleasant to them? What if they're constantly waiting around for something to happen, so that they have a reason to get going? What if being chased actually feels good as fuck, to a deer? After all, we assume that the act of hunting - as an obligate predator - is, experientially, indulgent. Something that "shouldn't" be done, but is excused regardless. Is this not dismissive of the circumstances the predator is in, and how that might feel? Or the agency and ability that the prey can bring into play?

(An earlier version of this reply was oversimplifying stuff in this part to the point of just being wrong, and had me saying some things about deer behavior [especially herd dynamics] that I'm not actually sure of, which I've edited out.)

Undoubtedly, running for your life is terrifying, and we can be certain that prey animals in these situations are activated - stressed, displaying agitation, etc. None of the above is meant to imply that elk or deer would voluntarily choose to be pursued by wolves. Rather, I just want to highlight that the interaction between predator and prey is not necessarily as emotionally - or morally - lopsided as it is often portrayed as being. Being pursued by a wolf is terrifying, yes, but if you are a pursuit animal, and if you get away....could it not also be fun? And chasing another animal as a predator seems like a powerful, exciting position to be in, at first brush - but in the long run, the lives of the predators are also at stake in the pursuit. Genuinely, I don't want to replace one anthropomorphic projection with another, but I think we can be confident that the dynamics of predator/prey relationships are at the very least interesting to both parties - engaging, maybe even enriching.

All this is to say that the "cost" of predator reintroduction - in terms of stress on individual prey - is most likely not going to be accurately framed in terms of human emotional valence; moreover, cultural assumptions in the interpretation of pleasure, violence, and morality are a strong bias in untangling the emotional framework that is projected onto these relationships. From my perspective, it seems that most consideration given to the experiences of prey animals in these situations is based in just substituting what we, as humans, would expect to feel in that situation; which seems to be both more and less than what can actually be said.

So, yeah, I do think that people should be proud of ecological shifts that generate these large changes in behavior - human hunters have obviously done a poor job of emulating the dynamics created by these predators; and at the bare minimum, I wouldn't assume that the difference in emotional landscape is worth the ongoing ecological harm of not having these dynamics in play.

(Also worthy of consideration are things like the predator's right to exist, diversity of interior experience as a value unto itself, the fundamental right of all species to a life that has "meaning" and what that could actually entail, cross-species modeling of stress as enrichment, microecological effects of pursuit and predation, etc....but. I think I've rambled enough lol.)

Around the same time as the wolves were released, the mountain lion population, once hunted to local extinction, was becoming re-established as well – having crept back in from wilderness areas in central Idaho. Under these twin pressures, over a period of about 15 years, elk numbers halved.

Those that did survive behaved differently, too: when the wolves were on the prowl, they retreated to the dimly lit comfort of the woods, where they might wander in clandestine bands. They avoided the cougars, most active at night, by steering clear of landmarks where they might be trapped or surprised from above in the dark – ravines, outcrops, embankments. No longer did they live in an environment defined by its waterholes and pastures, or even by its ridgelines and ravines, but by areas now suffused with danger and relief. A psychological topology, this – one marked with hillocks of anxiety and peaks of alarm. Ecologists know this as “the landscape of fear”.

proudly talking about reintroducing carnivores has made the herbivores really anxious really drives home the question of whether it’s moral to torture other creatures for our convenience.

you might oppose farming, but make the farm really big and remove the visible fences have the prey harried to death instead of quickly stunned and that’s… better?

[rollercoasterwords]

Yes yes yes to all of your points about jegulus and the capitalism of fandom as a whole. I find the whole thing so interesting in a mildly terrifying way lmao

One thing I’ve noticed with jegulus on TikTok that I’ve never really registered seeing with another ship (tho I could obviously be wrong, thx algorithm) is that people advertise their fics in a way I’ve not really seen before in forms of countdowns and trailers pre posting. And yes be proud of what you’ve created, I am the biggest supporter of tooting your own horn but sometimes it feels a little… off to me. Like almost like people are viewing fic writing as becoming ‘content creators’ and trying to go viral with these pieces of work in the same way that art and TikToks goes viral. And with the marauders and jegulus in particular being such a TikTok heavy fandom (as you pointed out in your essay) maybe that’s why it’s more apparent, because a lot more people interacting with this subsection of the fandom have been ‘raised’ (for lack of a better word) to view the internet as a place where the point is to go viral and become well known, so to create art for the sake of creation is an entirely alien concept. So why would you not make a trailer for your story and post it half a dozen times to TikTok?

And then pair that with jegulus having fewer works than bigger ships which means that the ‘bigger’ fics are known and read by the majority, which ultimately means that people have a better chance of going ‘viral’ if they post a story with that pairing compared to wolfstar where the competition is higher.

I’ve never really kept a track of these fics that are advertised and hyped up before chapters are posted, but I would be interested in how many are abandoned if and when the author doesn’t get a barrage of kudos and comments, and the subsequent serotonin boost with it.

Sorry this ask doesn’t really have much of a point or direction, (and I’m not even sure if it even made much sense ☠️) it’s just something I’ve been noticing with increasing frequency recently and I was wondering if you had any thoughts, as you write your points and arguments so well!!

anon i literally want to kiss u on the mouth u brought up sooooo many good points!! yes i have so so so many thoughts about this maybe i need to make a separate post bc like....ive talked so much about the way that like. people interact as readers with the like tiktok/social media/influencer mindset but ive definitely seen it crop up with people who write fanfic too. and the thing is bc there aren't really cleanly delineated boundaries between readers + writers of fanfic (like....most of the writers are also readers, and many of the readers are also writers) it definitely comes from both sides.

i think for anyone who has like. internalized this mentality that art must be validated by an audience to be worthwhile and that you can only be Seen by turning urself into content for consumption it's very easy to approach fanfiction with a mindset stuck in a consumer economy. and like. that isn't a moral failing, because we are literally all being conditioned to think of any creative pursuit as something that is only worthwhile if it can be turned into Profitable Content. but i DO think it's important to recognize when we're falling into that mindset, because fanfiction is so antithetical to it. and also just like....i don't think any of these people who are approaching fanfiction with this underlying idea that they need to curate an audience for validation will be able to find deep or lasting joy, because if your primary motivation in writing is just to get as many eyes on it as possible, then like....idk. it will never be enough. there will always be someone with a more popular story, with more people reading it.

and like. i actually mentioned this in my little tiktokification essay that escaped confinement, and i got a bunch of responses of people in the tags or reblogs going "there is NOTHING WRONG with wanting to share your work and wanting people to read it!!!" and i was like...i didn't say there was anything wrong with it?? i said if your primary motivation in creating art is just to get as many eyes on it as possible, you probably will not find lasting joy in the creation of that art. so :/

anyway now i think i want to write another essay so thank u for that anon lmao

[nezz-cringe-crib]

growing up is realizing that dipcifica was actually a pretty damn good ship and holy shit i totally misjudged this pairing.

i never really liked dipcifica mainly because of how it got represented by the fandom, but looking back on it, it would've made a lot of sense and it would've been beneficial for both of them to date each other. and even in a completely platonic sense, their dynamic worked well enough that they could've done a lot more together.

dipper is a very nerdy awkward guy, clearly. he likes solving mysteries and sometimes he gets a little in over his head because of it. and his silly little awkward teenage love life reflects all of these things. that little shrimp was disney's #1 simp, it's actually insane. whenever he'd start to fall for a girl it'd end up going pretty terribly because he'd have no idea how to just act like himself and he'd also become a little bit of a jerk. (i'm not trying to like dog on dipper btw. he's just a kid and these are all understandable flaws, especially at his age and at the time period gravity falls took place in). however, with pacifica, a lot of these flaws are manageable solely because of how they're introduced to each other. dipper hates pacifica at first and wants nothing to do with her, but eventually they're forced to work together and realize "huh. we actually make a really good team." for dipper, this gradual building of a relationship is really beneficial to him. he wouldn't just go head-first into simping for some random girl and he'd also learn to respect her as a person and realize when he's being a little bit of a dick. being with pacifica, platonically or romantically (though personally i think romantically would strengthen their pros more but thats just my personal taste), would've helped dipper become a better person.

this goes for pacifica as well. pacifica's homelife is extremely controlling and it's what groomed her into becoming the mean girl that she's first presented as. as the show continues though, it's clear that she doesn't really want to be mean to anybody. she only acts spoiled because she doesn't know what else she can act like. she wants to connect to people but she's been so forced into this fake rich life that she has no idea how to be genuine with anybody. that's why her having a connection to dipper is so important. dipper is a little blunt, and he especially won't hide that from pacifica because he initially hates her and her family's lifestyle, so this'll eventually help pacifica realize "oh shit. i'm kind of a dick. my family are kind of huge dicks." and we do end up seeing this from her in "Northwest Mansion Mystery". she learns how to be herself, learns who "herself" even means, and learns to stand up for who she is when she figures that out. also pacifica's pretty damn smart???? especially socially???? she could absolutely help dipper do a lot of things when it comes to mystery solving, and with her status it'll most likely be things that dipper could never pull off and never even thought about because that's just what he's used to. they'd both end up learning a lot from each other because they'd be dragged into environments that they're not familiar with, but the other is. and their different perspectives/lifestyles would help the other view their environment in a new light.

not only is their relationship genuinely really beneficial to the both of them, but i also just know that their dialogue and scenes with each other would be so damn silly i can't not say yes to it anymore. i also just personally like headcanoning them both as bisexual so that's a plus for me.

anyways, tldr: i was wrong about dipcifica and its actually really good, i just think people should really analyze their relationship more since the way the fandom presents it (or how ive personally seen the fandom present it) is a little icky and shallow at least in my opinion. yay for dipcifica being silly little goobers :3

[asstrolo]

PISCES PLACEMENTS.

one thing you need to know about Pisces is that they always look aloof and are extremely observant.

✦ Pisces Risings have a very good intuition to situations involved with emotions and other people's feelings, they can read them very well, but should always be careful as they can appear to think they know what a person is feeling when it could be something completely different.

✦ People with a Pisces stellium deal with very difficult mental health problems, like any other water stellium (or any stellium) their emotions are at an all time high and can make it hard to put things into perspective when it's all just one energy. To add that Pisces are mutable energy and that energy is very volatile, balance is not something that comes easily to them, unlike fixed signs like Aquarius, Pisces stelliums get trapped inside a thought or a scenario in their head a lot, it's really hard to make them come back to reality unless they are aware of what they are doing. This does not mean they are unstable or untrustworthy, they are wise and can with frequency have prophetic dreams

✦ One thing about Pisces mercury is that they will lie unprovoked, they often lie for their peace of mind so people would leave them alone, but other times they just lie because they can and I can confirm this as a Pisces mercury I lie a lot about things that don't matter like when I buy something and I tell my family that the person that sold it to me recommended it because it's really good, that's a lie nobody recommended me anything

✦ I do believe Pisces like to be sad more than they liked to admit, as the sign is known for not being present and you can always see them not wanting to be in the real world, sometimes they can use their moods to escape real life issues or responsibilities

✦ Jupiter in Pisces generation are really good at spotting a person's energy, they tend to have luck in everything esoteric but can shield on that a little too much, have an over positive or negative view of life as they have a strong intuition sometimes they will fool themselves into believing something just because of the ~vibes~ thy feel, a little too delusional sometimes ngl

✦ Pisces in anything but specially Pisces sun people are very addictive, is the Neptunian force, when people talk about Pisces have addictions to escape reality that is valid, I do believe they are super intoxicating to be around, is something about them that leaves people wanting more. Watch Pisces people that are famous, Hozier and Rihanna, Maddison Beer or Justin Bieber, Olivia Rodrigo, and the most Pisces of them all was Kurt Cobain with a extremely present Pisces stellium and a Water dominance with a Cancer moon and Scorpio mars, he looked almost like a cult leader and that's the magic of Pisces, they can draw people in so easily it's hard to know where you start and they end, but that's the magic of mutable signs

✦ Pisces men why are you like that? I'm not a mind reader don't make me kill you

✦ As Saturn is transitioning Pisces people with this placements can feel like it's just one thing after another, they can never really be calm because Saturn is not about calm at all, it's about responsibility and maturing in the blink of an eye, they will be confronting things they used to sweep under the rug, which is something difficult to do for Pisces placements as they can be too n their own world to see certain things surrounding them

✦ Continuing the Pisces/Saturn transit, this can obviously be felt more on where you have Pisces in planets or house. Venus in Pisces will be dealing with a lot of hard lessons in love, if you have unhealthy patterns that follow you through all your relationships and it can feel very overwhelming when you try to connect with somebody but is impossible because there is something you must learn, or you view of love could be very different when you start your first healthy relationship or stay single for your mental health. It really does depend on the person as Saturn has lessons in all shapes and forms . Pisces in the 9th house could mean responsibilities outside their home or comfort zone, or the impossibility of traveling due to these responsibilities. College or School can take a significant time in your daily life as someone who is starting to take it more seriously, or the sudden decision to leave a career to chase other dreams. Either way, it's a challenging time for the dreamers

✦ Pisces placements and always looking like they don't know where they are

✦ Since Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac they do encapsulate a tiny part of all the signs and that's why they can be so changing, Pisces Sun and Risings are known to be really good actors like Anya Taylor-Joy having a Pisces rising or Oscar Isaac. They can mold into a different personality very well and that's part of their empathetic tendencies too

✦ to me pisces placements embody the forever I hate it here I want to be inside my mind palace ALL THE TIME there's a reason a lot of pisces placements are actors or writers, they continuously try to run away from real life!!

a pisces placements song in my opinion

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft / Life Series Fic Recs

Because I love so many of them...

I'll split the fics into completed and updating fics, and try to only recommend currently updating fics (i.e., not abandoned). I'm going to write a little about why I like each fic and what the general vibes are - so this is also a kind of review I guess?

I've tried to @ the authors if they have a public tumblr. Sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged, I can remove any @ if you ask (or if I have embarrassingly tagged the wrong person). Anyway, enjoy, and I appreciate reblogs because I want as many people to see these fics as possible!!

This ended up being incredibly long so I'm putting a divider here. Click to keep reading!!! Also, fair warning: shipping ahead! Some fics will have mild sexual content, please read the tags if you are unsure <3

Updating Fics

I have already recommended Help Me To Breathe, lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart), and There Are Monsters Nearby in this post, so I won't explain why I like them a second time, but definitely check them out!!

Death's A Good Gig by @mawofthemagnetar is probably going to be finished by the time this post gets to you, reader, but I'm putting it here anyway. It's short and sweet, one of my favourite representations of Zedaph (or, Zedeath) I've read, and just a joy to experience. If you like grim reapers and discussions of unions, this one is for you. Also I need more Zedaph in my life.

Look, I'm Sorry, Please Stop Scaring Everyone by @cat-in-the-desert reminds me a lot of a particular TV drama I liked when I was younger, which followed a similar premise. This fic follows Mumbo (vampire) and Grian (ghost) as they get up to various housemate shenanigans and meet their local magic-expert and salesman Scar. This fic is fun, but still includes a nice amount of Feelings and hinted-at Angst which I really love. It's lighthearted, but never boring.

It Hurts To Hope by Inquillitory is my favourite of the "Grian crash lands into Hermitcraft and causes problems for everyone" genre. Seeing how many fics there are with that premise, I think that says a lot. It handles Grian's weird Watcher stuff really well. Honestly, I just want to know what happens next!

killing the boy in the tv by @raspberrystruck is like a sickfic on steroids. If you want Grian with so much past trauma he forgets how to function in society, this is basically the fic for you. I really love how hybrid traits affect the characters' interactions in this fic, and how everyone is kind of messed up because of the imbalance Grian brings. It is wonderfully descriptive in all the right places!

Love Me Like I'm Dead by @daniofcrows is such a gem. You know how hard it is to find good Xisuma whump? It's impossible. I absolutely love how Xisuma and Evil X are characterised in this, and I am obsessed with the unique take on hanahaki disease which I have never seen handled in this way before. The balance between flashbacks and present day is maintained wonderfully and I cannot wait to continue reading this one. Wow.

Oh, you wanted me to do a verse? by @bugbbear is... kind of indescribable. It's horror. It's comedy. It's the apocalypse. It's boatem. Scar eats someone. One of the most interesting and unique apocalypse stories I have read. Slowly updating but worth the wait, in my opinion. This one NEEDS more attention.

So Much For Stardust by @a-plethora-of-peters is basically one of my all-time favourites. Which is a damn good achievement seeing as I don't usually read ZITS fics. Like, ever. In this fic, Skizz is a human abducted and hurt badly by aliens, now recovering in the care of good aliens who don't know how 'sentient' he is. Every update of this one makes me smile, it is wonderful. I love how the characters are written and how the different perspectives are shown. It is just great.

Solar Waltz by @raspberrystruck and aroundtheclock is a brilliant and very very sad regression fic. I love fluffy regression fics as much as the next guy, but this one just... hits different. The hurt/comfort levels are off the charts. Grian is so damn cute the whole time, while also being harrowingly complicated and sad. I am so ready for whatever comes next.

Tango's Castle of Cards by @evilrat-sabre is the one where Tango is a BUG. He's just a little guy (horror). This one is so beautifully written, with poetry-type interludes and perspective changes that really make everything feel so much more impactful. Finding out your buddy is a murder bug isn't the easiest thing in the world. I love this so much.

Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU} (series) by @amethystfairy1 is basically one of the series of all time. I know I keep saying that but it really really is. I love a good fantasy au, and I love an au with hybrids even more. In this world, hybrids are treated like slaves, but it isn't all doom and gloom for the main characters of each installment. There is a lot of hurt/comfort and the different stories feed into each other in really interesting ways. I try to read as much as I can, though I've missed a few because my emails are buggy. Definitely worth reading these fics, especially since now they're all starting to come together!

Completed Fics

Solving Counting Sheep by @theminecraftbee might have rearranged my brain chemistry a little. Another strong contender for 'fics that inspire me to kill Grian', this time with a more concrete notion of "replacement". Three is my favourite fucked up living weapon. It's so rare to find Evo fics in this day and age, too. This fic had me immediately clicking on every update as soon as I got the emails.

Rescue Fire by @imaginethat0327 is one of the most unique takes on a fictionalised life series game that I have ever read. The whole concept is explained in a realistic and easy-to-follow way, as we learn what's happening with the characters. There are several brilliant storylines happening in this one, but my particular favourites are Jimmy & Tango, Joel, and of course Scar & Grian. This fic is full of whump and, well, read the tags, it isn't always pleasant, but those are my favourite things ever. Definitely worth checking out this fic and its currently updating sequel.

don't you know about me? by takenbadgering is a wonderful comedy of errors with just the right amount of angst for a realistic setting type of fic. If you enjoy polyamory miscommunications, rave aesthetics, kandi, school teacher dynamics, and a lovely blend between grumbo, cubscar, and mumscar, this is the one.

Eventually the Birds Must Land by @milo-hypno follows a polyam ship I would have never thought of, and I cannot believe how much I loved it. This married-as-friends fic premise is wonderful, and captures the main trio (Grian, Mumbo, Impulse)'s personalities so well, while balancing them with the incredibly terrifying descriptions of the Watchers and their power. There's a lot of angst here, but it is ultimately hurt/comfort to the maximum degree. I loved reading it as it updated. Yay for gay marriage!

From The Archives (series) by @sixteenth-days was the absolute inspiration for my own Comms AU, and I will never forget its influence on me. As someone basically unfamiliar with TMA, I thought this series might be hard to follow, but it was not! I read all 57 parts in the span of two days, and I think it altered my brain chemistry. Please read it, even if (especially if) you don't know anything about TMA. The Cleo and Grian storyline lives in my head rent free. I mean it. This is horror at its finest. Also there's an audio series of this fic being released rn, which is very cool.

SUPERCRITICAL by @masque-of-plague hits different. It is such a wonderful take on the superhero/HotGuy trope, and it gets so super dark at some points! This one really takes swings at it's fictional government, which of course I love, while at the same time building this brilliantly emotional relationship between Scar and Grian. I do enjoy a bit of enemies to lovers, but the actual plot mixed into the story makes this one extra special. It is thrilling, with action that I don't get to see too often! Great work.

I am weary with contending! is one of the mumscarian fics of all time. From 'this house has people in it'-type horror, to magic gone wrong, to childhood trauma, to attempted assassination, to gender fuckery, this fic has it all. Usually I don't go for convex siblings, but this one is good enough to get a pass from me. Amazingly detailed worldbuilding alongside a brilliantly creative story.

It Spreads by @foxxology may not count as a fic, actually. It's a comic. But it's posted on ao3 so it counts. I was obsessed with this one as it was updating, honestly. It rocked me to my core. The art is phenomenal. The writing is brilliant. I love sculk.

Luck of the sea by Sleepy_Duck is a lovely take on mermaid and human interactions, with Grian as a marine life conservator and Scar as a very neglected mer. This one takes us emotionally in all sorts of directions, and offers lots of hope for the future of the characters. I heavily enjoyed this fic - if you like mermaids and marine biology, check it out.

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag is another mermaid fic but with a pretty different vibe. First of all, it follows what I would consider a rarepair Doc/Martyn. Second of all, reading this as it updated was a thrilling experience that nearly made me cry at certain points. I love how the relationship builds in this fic. It is honestly amazing. The whole idea of experimenting on a sentient sea creature, learning that he can communicate, then losing funding and having to save him from being dissected?!?! It's crazy. I love it.

Thus concludes my fic recommendations. I hope you enjoy at least some of these, and consider reblogging to spread these wonderful fics around <3

[queeraliensposts]

I've seen people calling Aiden Thomas a transmed author (mostly cause some transmeds like to claim his books), but if you followed Aiden Thomas on social media you'll see this not the case, also I think the reason why a lot of white transmeds resonate with his novels like Cemetery Boys and The Sunbearer Trials, has nothing to do with Aiden Thomas's writing and more to do with the fact that Aiden Thomas writes stories about LATINO trans men, and for a lot of white transmascs the message went way over their head.

In my own personal experience as a latino trans guy I relate much more to Aiden Thomas's work then to most other transmasc authors, because Aiden knows that it's a lot easier for us to internalize those toxic ideas of gender. Toxic masculinity is prevalent in latine culture it has it's own damm name "machismo". Therefore it's a lot harder for us to come to the realization that there's nothing wrong with our bodies and the problem stems from the way society views them. To add to that just as toxic masculinity is so over enforced in latine culture so is toxic feminity, so many of us feel the need to present very femininely before we finally decide to start presenting as ourselves. So once we actually come out and start presenting as male we try to compensate for that. On top of that growing up latine and afab means you and your body gets sexualized a lot more often. Mostly by the white supremacist stereotype of the curvy spicy Latina.

With all of that I can easily explain why when I read The Witch King, a novel about a white trans guy, when Wyatt said that he doesn't have a problem with his body and it was the way that people saw him as female, I personally couldn't relate.

But now going on the the actual content of Aiden Thomas's work (I will only be touching on Cemetery Boys because I haven't finished the Sunbearer Trials 😅).

Yadriel starts the novel with a lot of internalized transphobia which he's not even aware of. This is because at this point, he is the only queer person he knows, and he's surrounded by people who see him as different for who he is. It's not until he meets Julian, another queer person who has interacted with many other queer people. It's not until Yadriel starts talking to Julian and his friends that he starts realizing that everything he was taught about what it means to be a man is bullshit by the end of the book while I'm sure Yadriel hasn't 100% gotten over his internalized transphobia, he set on a path to unlearn it.

Aiden Thomas isn't a transmed author he just writes about the trans experience from a perspective that is often overlooked.

Closing off I would like to set the record cause as a latino trans author that's currently working on a novel about a latino trans boy mc. For any transmeds who wanna claim my work, it's not for you.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Top 10 Things I Love About the QL Tumblr Community 2023

I'm loving everyone's end of year lists, and decided to make up one of my own.

I haven't been on Tumblr for very long and was originally just lurking. 2023 marks the year where I finally started posting, after I read a take that made me feel compelled to come to a fictional character's defense. (Saengtai, my poor little blorbo).

So in commemoration of my first proper year of active tumblring, I present what I love about this community (in no particular order).

(Side note - Technically I know this is still primarily a BL community, but I like to say QL because I am trying to manifest more lesbians for us.)

1) The Gifmakers

Y'all are a good 70% of the reason I joined Tumblr in the first place. There are so many show moments that I want to relive, but without having to search through videos. Sometimes I want to appreciate the aesthetics. Sometimes I want to remember adorable or goofy moments. Sometimes I just want to see cute boys eating each other's faces. Our gifmakers give all of that to us, with the addition of so much creativity and style.

There's too many amazing ones to mention everyone, but I have to shout out @sparklyeyedhimbo, because the way your brain works makes me so happy.

2) The expertise

The other part of why I joined Tumblr was to learn more about what BLs were out there and what I might be missing. And holy hell. Y'all are putting in the work. Not only lists and resources for finding all kinds of QLs, like these fabulous monthly breakdowns by @gunsatthaphan, but also amazing posts that add additional context, like @absolutebl's incredibly helpful breakdown of Asian honorifics. There is so much research people do, for fun! And then they share it!

3) The meta analysis

I frickin love reading people's takes and analyses on series. I love learning, I love seeing perspectives from people with different cultural backgrounds to my own, it's all so fascinating! There's so much context we can miss due to our own privileges, or lack of knowing about various cultures, or due to whatever bubbles we've been living in. People here are just so smart, and nuanced, and willing to reflect and think about things, and also push back at each other, but generally with respect (except when you call out the dumb shit you see, usually on Twitter or TikTok, where people are being reductive and dumb about gender and sexuality).

And I've seen a few takes where people complain about analyses, and say that the director/production doesn't do everything deliberately, and we're all reading too much into it. To which I say, eh, lighten up. How people connect to and relate to media has relevance beyond what was intended. The point is we get to think and discuss and learn and grow. That doesn't happen if we don't analyze.

Special shout out here to @respectthepetty because colors mean things!

4) The wild theories

The other side of the analysis coin, the clown cars y'all drive around in with the wildest of theories. I have happily climbed into an occasional clown car, and usually I am utterly wrong (*cough* Saifah *cough*). But it's a super fun ride. I love seeing how people's brains work. I love it when y'all are wrong. I love it when y'all are right. It's beautiful.

5) Immediate acceptance

I am one of those people who knows that I have a lot of good qualities, and also, always kind of expect rejection. Blame the childhood bullies, I guess. Anyway, whenever I delve into a new space, I still feel like a total dork that no one will want to talk to. It's kind of a fraught way to move through the world, but I manage.

Anyway, I started posting my thoughts as they came up, and people are just totally cool with it. People even follow me sometimes. Even my silliest thoughts and dumbest jokes get at least a couple likes. It's so validating.

And my very silly joke about gay mafia in Kiseki has over 800 likes. I feel very seen.

6) Mutuals

I still kind of can't believe I have any. This ties in to the dork feeling above, but seriously - they are soooo cooooool. They're smart and awesome and funny, and they somehow find me worth following back, which is baffling yet wonderful. I want to squish their faces and give them many kisses (if they're into that kind of thing).

7) The self-exploration

I really appreciate how it's become more talked about how a lot of people are discovering queerness through BL, because that is so the case for me. I think it's both that I was in a bit of a hetero bubble before, and also that I'm evolving a bit as I age. I had figured out I was demi, and maybe a little bit gay, before getting in to BL, but being in this community, and seeing so many of you share so openly and freely, has made me realize it might be more than a little bit.

Either it was a new realization, or being around y'all has made me more gay. Win win, either way.

8) The weirdness

I'm weird. Y'all are weird. I love it.

9) The thirst

So many in this community are thirsty as fuck, and as someone who is in that same condition, I love that it's not just me. There are not many places where I can freely admit how horny I am as a part of my general existence.

Here? I could post about wanting to lick some random BL actor's face, and it would get a bunch of likes and some tags like #lickable, and it's just not remotely a big deal.

Also the gifmakers understand this, and give us beautiful cuts of our spicy scenes. They are genuinely too good for us.

10) The communal watching experience

There is absolutely nothing like watching along with people in the community. It is so worth the torture of having to wait week to week for new episodes. Seeing the show trend, watching the theories fly fast and furious, or the way everyone collectively loses their minds over particular moments. In a world that can feel very isolating, it's a very warm experience.

So there you go. Thank you all for being you. Here's to another year of QL shenanigans and losing our collective minds!

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most. 

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars. 

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times. 

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

[solid-white]

Character analysis of Engineer but I'm heavily assuming things:

Majority of people assume Engineer takes on a fatherly role for the team, and it makes sense! He calls people son and even cares for the Administrator when she's sick, he also heavily supports the team when they need it.

But the thing that people get wrong is that they think he's sane when I'd argue he's the MOST insane person on the team, and incredibly intimidating at that.

Medic can be easily assumed to be the most insane person on the team, he's obsessed with scientific progress, has the intelligence to think outside the box, and he's also strong when compared to the rest of the mercs physicality. But he also has moments where he clearly cares for everyone in his own way, he wouldn't have made the rest of the team invincible nor would he have played the long con with the classic mercs if he didn't care. He also doesn't have ANY taunt voice lines.

Pyro is also one of the more insane mercs; they're fully aware that they're killing people; why would they close the present box and just blow bubbles at it? Medic wouldn't see it happen and it doesn't make sense when put into Pyro's perspective.

But again, they don't have any voice lines that involve mocking someone, they also deeply care for the mercs AND despite how they're introduced, everyone knows they don't mean TOO much harm.

So with all of that out of the way, I'll get straight into the analysis. The reason why I claim Engineer to be the most insane and intimidating one is because of his voice lines and his introduction in meet the engineer.

At first we assume he's calm and chilled out because of the way he speaks, he's soft-spoken and doesn't yell as much as the rest of the mercs. But then there's moments like this, where he smiles when someone's arm is shot off by his sentry.

And this when it zooms out and the campfire is actually Sniper on fire.

His voice lines also give way to just how intimidating he can be towards the team. At least with the rest of the team their taunts are for the most part tame/playful in a way that makes it seem like they're playing around, but with Engineer? You have lines like these:

Unlike Soldier who isn't fully aware of himself most of the time and kills because of his militaristic values, Engineer's arguably the one in the team who gets the MOST joy out of killing people (and is fully AWARE of it), he's a """loose""" cannon when compared to everyone else. Add his god complex and intelligence on top of that and if TF2 were a different genre, he'd be a terrifying slasher serial killer.

That isn't to say he doesn't care, he acts serious when it comes down to it:

Spy gets praise for trying to give everyone their last dream they wish to fulfill, but Engineer was the one who brought it up. Respectfully at that.

So while he gets the most joy out of killing, is intimidating, and has a severe god complex, he's also the most caring one and wants the best for everyone.

So no, he isn't the most sane merc, but he IS a """good""" man (I'm using good loosely since he's a serial killer). Although not as """good""" as Heavy when compared.

[song-of-baldy-ron]

I'm honestly not Anti-Prime Deities but I do get frustrated when I see how hard Matt and the Players try to present this new perspective in C3- that of people who've lived their lives mostly ignored by the gods- only to have their backstories get brushed aside by a lot of the fandom with excuses of "well you didn't try/pray hard enough to get an answer!" Because no matter how much of a good force they've been on Exandria, there are absolutely some things they need to answer for.

Before the Predathos threat was even at large, why didn't any of the gods reach out to Ruidusborn to try and explain what they were? Why is Imogen only hearing from the Stormlord now that he needs her help? Why was Laudna being chased out of towns by clerics for most of her life post-Sun Tree? Why hasn't Ashton received even a hint of the gods listening to their prayers? Maybe all three of them rolled super low on religion/perception checks their entire lives but at some point you'd think one of the gods would answer for one of them.

There isn't a black and white answer to this question but that doesn't mean the question isn't a valid one to ask.

It gets even worse when viewers don't even want to engage with the various perspectives Exandrians have with the Primes, and how they can't all be positive or Ludinus wouldn't have anyone to manipulate/bring to his side. Cults rely on charismatic/convincing leaders but they also need to tap into societal tensions that those leaders can twist in their favor.

This doesn't even touch on the Colonialism of it all (as sympathetically presented as it's been) of the Gods just rocking up on Exandria and changing things to their liking (as ignorant to the consequences as I assume they were).

I get that C1 and to some extent C2 presented very different views on the gods than what C3 is telling us, but it really feels like people are writing off the C3 characters' views on divinity and their relationships with the gods as "Matt retconning the lore he established"/ setting up for some nebulous post-WOTC world where none of the gods exist even though literally no one has mentioned that would be the next step.

Again- I would be upset if Exandria got rid of their gods because I love how complicated they can be especially given what we know now.

But please be willing to engage with the narratives that C3 is bringing to life without relying on what was established in C1 or C2 (when the gods' existence wasn't directly being threatened) as the "true lore" of Critical Role.

[askinkiskarma]

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ: ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ 'ᴛɪʟ ɪ'ᴍ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴ' ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋʙᴜʀɴᴇʀ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: Jake struggles to adapt with the way being next to you is making him feel.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), (a little) smut at the end

wc: 6.1k words

a/n: umm, hi there?? do you remember me? i know it's been such a long time and I am so so sorry, but I am backkk besties!!! i am so happy to finally be able to complete chapter two and I hope you enjoy because it's quickly picking up pace. i really hope this isn't garbage, i'm so so out of practice and so insecure about my writing, but i still hope you are able to understand and enjoy this, because i am so excited to finally be back writing.

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, paskalin - sweet berry (term of endearment)

series masterlist (x)

Maybe I'm just not better than this, I haven't tried Maybe life's less romantic when I don't wanna die You'd think I'd be a fast learner But guess I won't ever mind crisping up on your backburner

Jake has always felt comfortable in nature. Even back on Earth, the comfort of a bed was a luxury mostly lost on him throughout his life. It was peaceful, and comforting, feeling the ground beneath his feet, beneath his skin, malleable and nurturing, like a warm embrace. It was a given here, with the connection the Na’vi had with the world around them, with the forest surrounding them, that he would become one with it, too, that he would find solace in it. He did, most days. Just not tonight, as he lay on the slightly damp surface with an arm underneath his head for support, trying to find meaning in the stars that were still so beautiful and bright they took his breath away, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and his wandering thoughts. 

What was that? This whole day, that conversation that was still ringing in his ears like an insipid echo, making sweat bead on his forehead and trickle down his temples, until they were one with the soil. Why would you say that? What possessed him to confide in you about parts of his life he forsook, he gave up what felt like eternities ago?

He’s never truly noticed you before. The shy, timid girl who was far too attuned to others’ feelings to be able to overlook the disdain still present in some members’ of the clan when it came to anything human, always holed up in that lab he hated, that was at odds with everything he’s come to known and too much like everything he was trying his best to leave behind. It used to be different back then, when you were young, just a child craving connection and companionship, always tied to the hip to his eldest son, Neteyam, where Spider always took more to his two middle children. Par for the course, he thought. You and Neteyam were much alike, and somehow still managed to complement each other well, at the same time. He used to think you’d be good for him, back then. Not that he’d ever tell Neytiri that, the seemingly blasphemous idea, but yes - he thought that, even before you got an Avatar. But now, the thought made him uneasy - queasy, even. It wouldn’t be right. Your relationship would be frowned upon, and the Omaticaya would never look at you and see the future Tsa’hik that’s meant to lead them, to interpret their deity’s way. You were too fragile, too tuned in to your own and others’ emotions to be able to overcome it, and it would break you. Being with Neteyam would break you. 

The night was torturous and slow, so many thoughts eating away at him like a disease. By the time Eclipse passed, he was ready for this trip to be over. Being here with you alone wasn’t good, he realises now. It was a mistake, to talk to you, to look into your eyes, to notice you. Because now that he did, he couldn’t stop. The way your Avatar body twitched in sleep, the way he couldn’t help wonder what you were doing in your human body - were you sleeping, like you should be? Was this on your mind, this night, the same way it was his? Were you cramming everything you once used to do in a day in the few hours you had in your now secondary body?

“Oh, kid. You better know how to fix this better than I do.” 

“Is the Avatar safe?”

Norm trusted Jake with his life, and still, he knew he had to ask. The scientist in him, the Avatar program leader de facto, he’s always taken every responsibility, every chance to prove himself to the Na’vi and to his late mentor, Grace Augustine, very seriously. And that included taking care of you. You were not his blood, but you were his family, and he wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be alright. And so when Jake suggested getting some much needed tutelage, he was happy to wait until the night to hear all about it. 

“You know it is.”

“How did it go?”

“Well, I think. He was right, I guess. I definitely feel a bit more comfortable outside of the village, of all the prying eyes.” 

“Amazing. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I’m… not sure. I think… I overstepped.” The blush in your cheeks and eyes glued to your fiddling feet made Norm’s brown eyebrow rise, a small grimace mirroring the one marring your beautiful, soft features. Still, he placed a hand on your head, gently brushing the stray hairs that were raised from the hours of being in the cryocapsule.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He… told me about his life on earth. About his father, and I… made a comment. I have no idea how he reacted to it, but now that I’m here, I have no chance to fix it.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not as bad as you think. We always tend to overthink in our heads, and, as humans, we always tend to see the worst in ourselves. You, more than most.”

After helping you out, making sure you were settled on your wobbly, weak knees, he gave your shoulder a small squeeze and left to his quarters, but not before telling you one last thing.

“I think someone overstepping once in a while is exactly what a man who’s always obeyed needs. Go to sleep, love.” 

The next morning, you felt dizzy as you woke up in the forest, slight groan audible with every stretch that allowed your sore muscles to loosen. You weren’t surprised to see Jake already up, busying himself with gutting a fish which would most likely constitute your breakfast. You gulped at the sight of him, veiny arms expertly handling the animal, his relaxed postured at odds with the slight frown on his face. Was that because of you? Was he mad at you? What possessed you to talk to him like he was a friend and not the Toruk Makto, the mighty Olo’eyktan? What possessed you to confess about an old crush, that died with your innocence about the world, about the same time you finally started to notice how the Omatikaya, particularly Neytiri, have looked at you all your life. 

“Um, good morning.” 

His eyes flickered over to you, lingering for a second longer than they needed to on your golden eyes before turning back swiftly, and the expression he adorned, a mixed between shame, guilt and desire, would have been obvious to anyone with more life experience, but not to you. Still, you noticed the blush in his cheeks, and couldn’t help the anxiety bubbling in your chest at what… or whom, might be the cause of it. 

“‘Morning, kid. D’you sleep well?” 

“I guess. You?” 

“One of us have to stay up and keep an eye out for predators, you know. Can’t have you get eaten before I’m done teaching you how to defend yourself.” His smile was teasing, and if it was an effort to put your mind at ease, you did appreciate it. It made what you had to say next come out easier.

“Listen, Jake… what I said last night… it was none of m-“

“It’s alright, kid. It’s been a while since anyone’s contradicted me, apart from my wife, so…” his laugh was rugged and unforced, and you couldn’t help join in at the sonorous melody that rang in your ears and all of a sudden couldn’t imagine being without. 

“So you don’t hate me?” 

Jake’s eyes settled on your own, but not before flickering to your parted lips, so focused and eager, you were clinging on to his every word, waiting desperately to be put out of your misery. 

“No, kid. I don’t hate you.” 

Jake didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he did know one thing: it was just a stupid conundrum, nothing more. He didn’t feel anything for you, he was just taken aback by someone who seemed to be a lot more intuitive and incisive about someone’s inner workings than he gave you credit for. But that’s it. Just because you talked about something he cared about, that nobody asked him about, just because he confessed to you feelings he hasn’t said out loud in more than 24 years… that didn’t mean anything. He had a mate. A mate he loved, a mate he was sworn to forever. He had a family, children, a life. It was nothing. So he did his duty and helped you, keeping a safe distance and the conversation to a minimum, outside of instructions he ought to give you. Still, despite his apprehensions, being with you was easy. You were docile and listened well, you were quiet and kept to yourself, and, in the moments you did talk, there was a pureness, a light to your heart that made his own feel lighter. 

“Good form. Now focus on the target and, when you’re ready…”

He watched as the arrow flew at high speed and travelled the length of the forest until it hit the ground next to a tree marked with an X - a makeshift target, but it did the job. 

“Release.” 

“Sorry.” Your ashamed disposition was as clear as day on your face and in your body language, and the purple twinge in your cheeks brought forth the luminosity of your tanhi and he hated himself for noticing it to begin with. 

“Don’t be. You did well. Just make sure you draw all the way back before releasing. The target’s a bit narrower than you’re used to, so you’re doing well.” 

His eyes softened taking you in. A sigh reverberated from deep within his chest and he said the words before he could stop himself, fully knowing he might regret them later. 

“Let’s focus on your tracking instead for a little while. A change of scenery might do you well.”

He knew he should leave the tracking skills for back to the village, for someone else to teach you. He should just hurry back home - to his life, to his wife, to the normalcy he’s both craving and desperately afraid of. Any extra time spent with you is time where he could talk and say something, confess something else that is better left unsaid, fall prey to your uncanny ability to see through him, to will out words he hasn’t even realised he’s been dying to say out loud. 

The ground was wet and cold, accentuated by the heavy moisture surrounding you. it still took getting used to, the air, breathing it in and out, like you were born to do so, such a colossal departure from the mask that covered your face for most of 23 years of your life. Still, it was a blessing, and one you made sure to appreciate with every breath you took. You forgot a little about it, all the gratitude, as the air felt particularly dense and thick as you took it in, as the man you now called mentor crawled skilfully like a steady, stealthy apex predator, little to no evidence of his presence other than the hand that was rested carefully on the small of your back, sending bouts of electricity all throughout your body. His voice was quiet as he spoke it near your ear, a velvet shroud that enveloped you and stirred something in you, something primal and carnal, something you’ve never felt before. What was happening to you? What was he doing to you?

“Lower, kid. The lower you are to the ground, the fainter your scent, the easier to hide.” 

“I-it’s… hard.” 

You could hear his smirk as he answered your quiet protestation, and you wondered whether he found it endearing or irksome, praying and hoping with as much power as you still had left in you that it was the former. 

“I know, girl. Guess we’ll have to train those abs for more core strength, huh?” 

You were happy your back was to him so he couldn’t see the violent blush haunting your cheeks, but even so, there was little you could do about your rampant heart or your heaving breath.

“I can hear your heartbeat like it’s echoing through the whole forest. And if I can, every other animal on a half a click radius can, too. You have to learn to calm your mind. Can you do that for me?”

Although what he was asking of you seemed impossible, considering his touch set your body and soul ablaze and your mind’s already erratic rumination seemed to reach an incandescent high, you tried, and although every muscle in your body hurt and ached, much like the first few times you allowed yourself to train in this body, you did as you were told, and, by early afternoon, you managed to track a pack of Yarik without even as much of a perk of the ear to give you away. You remember still, those early days, like they were happening to you now, as you stood here, in your bedroom, as the tears blurred the familiar space, the rock you were holding so tightly in your hand that it was cutting through your palm until all that inundated your sight was a watercolour red stain. You should have known then. What would follow. When he touched you, how it made you feel, you should have known to stay away. Norm once told you life, especially in your 20s, was about the joys and miseries of growing pains, but if you knew, how the journey was full of polarising extremes that pulled at every fibre of your being, how the high was insurmountable, but the pain was unbearable, maybe you would have thought twice before jumping in. 

You wonder if he knew, then. If he felt it, too. You wonder if he realised that this was the beginning of the end, if the pull you felt was the same one that drove him to what came after, to all he ended up putting on the line. You wondered if it was all a ploy, getting you alone, or if he truly just wanted to help, innocent and undiscerning, just a dutiful Olo’eyktan. You thought you knew his heart, and how much it hid and how much it hurt, you thought you came to know it all through all this time, but as the bleeding in your heart mirrored your gashing palm, you weren’t sure anymore. 

“Come.”

The Yarik were all gone now, unfrightened by your unassuming presence, which you took as a win. Still, you almost flinched when his now much louder voice rang above the quiet murmur of the forest. 

“Where?”

“You worked hard today, so you deserve a break. And I know just the spot.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, what he was about to do, but he knew you needed something to break apart the times of pain and struggle. It was something he’s learnt, being here, on Pandora, as one of the people, that there was more to life than duty, than sacrifice and pain, then the daily struggle of fitting in, of pitching in, of simply existing. You had to live life, face it, enjoy it. And he wanted you to have that, especially now. He understood, more than most, what it was like to be inhibited and trapped to a space or a time, paralysed, literally or figuratively to your immutable circumstance. For him, it was his legs, trapping him in a body he hated and couldn’t recognise, in habits he took on just like the soldier he’s always been, because there was nothing else he could do. For you, it was your human body, that confined you to the lab, to a mask, to a life that could never be experienced fully, until now. So, despite a small part, probably the logical part of his mind, telling him he should just keep the training going or go home, he decided to share with you a place he found while hunting for food last night. And when he saw your face as you took it in, all doe-eyed and bushy tailed, ears twitching enthusiastically and a beautiful, innocent smile taking over your whole face, he knew he made the right call. He found his own smile brewing without being able to contain it, your joy so contagious, it was like the whole world shone just a little brighter than it had a few minutes ago.

“Jake… I love it. Thank you.”

The roar of the waterfall crashing on the otherwise peaceful lake almost drowned your words, and he laughed at the way you were tentatively approaching the water, as if scared that the caress of it on your skin might hurt your already aching muscles. 

“Good. Let’s see how you like it up close.” 

And with that, and a gentle tap on your shoulder, a loud splash ensued where you hit the water. He laughed yet again at the way you emerged from it, wet and startled and almost as if you could not believe what just happened. 

“I-I… you… I cannot believe you did that!” 

He couldn’t help how much fun it was, doing this, being with you - it was as if for the first time in ages, in decades, being alive was fun again. It was as if this forest was completely separated from his own, from what was waiting for him back home, the unsurmountable pressure that plagued him every second of every day, especially since the humans returned. 

“Believe it, kid. You need to learn to let loose once in a while, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, but seemed intrigued by his preposition. 

“I will if you will.” 

And so he did. And for the next few hours, life was easygoing and fun, and spending time in your presence felt like coming out for a deep breath when it felt like he’d been drowning. He’s learnt you didn’t really know how to swim, and that the first song you’ve ever learnt on piano was one you deeply related to, that he’s made you promise you’d sing to him, and he found out plenty of small things, but nothing important, or of substance. It was clear to him more and more you loved being the one asking the questions and never the one answering them, and, soon enough, here you were again, curious as a cat about things nobody else was when it came to him.

“Did you ever expect it?” the sun was still shining brightly upon you both, warming your strong, supple bodies as you floated in the otherwise cold water. Eclipse wasn’t too far behind, but right now, neither of you particularly seemed to care. 

“What’s that?” You continued floating, looking intently at the sky - focused or too embarrassed to look at him, Jake couldn’t really tell. 

“Everything. What you did, what happened. Did you ever expect it, when you were offered a place on a shuttle to Pandora?” Once again, Jake was taken aback by your propensity of asking deep, profound, intimate questions like you were asking about the weather. He wondered briefly if you realised that that’s not how most people talked.

“No… I didn’t. I didn’t care, about the job or the mission. I cared about the money. And later, about the chance to get my legs back.” 

“Do you ever miss it? Being… normal.” 

“I was given a second chance - a purpose bigger than me, bigger than the measly life I left behind. I -“ this finally got your attention, and for the first time since your first question, you adjusted your position in the water so that you were fully facing him, inquiring eyes like beads of light and focus, intent on taking in every expression, every shift in mood, every slight adjustment of his face. You tried again, this time more forceful and intense, this time almost demanding of his full attention.

“That wasn’t my question. It’s a privilege, and an honour, to be who you are…”

He struggled as he always did to stifle a roll of his eyes and the speech he’s heard a million times before, from his wife, or his Tsa’hik, from every villager of the Omatikaya, from every other tribe leader he’s ever met through diplomatic missions. The answer he always kept at the ready was caught in his throat, because you kept going.

“…but I’m sure it’s also tiring, and hard. And lonely. So do you ever miss it? Do you ever wish things could go back to the way they were? Do you ever wish you didn’t have to be there for everybody all the time?”

He looked at you, pleading, not knowing whether he needed you to stop or keep going, only knowing it hurt, being torn at the seams like that between two choices that both led to heartbreak and epiphanies he wasn’t ready to face nor strong enough to deal with on his own, especially right now.

“Kid…” 

“I went too far again, didn’t I? What is wrong with me?” 

The attempt to get out of the lake was swiftly overthrown by his much stronger physique keeping you in place, caging you in between the edge of the lake and his muscular arms. Jake wasn’t an emotional man, he wasn’t one to be overcome with feelings that could cloud his judgement, that could interfere with a plan of action and yet, standing there, in that moment, your wide golden eyes looking fearfully and surprisedly up at him, the rapid pulse of your heart clearly visible in your carotid artery running up your neck, he felt his mind clouded and his own heart trembling with the overwhelming, unexpected urge to taste you, to feel those lips crashing over his, your tongues intertwined, his fingers wander in wondrous places he was sure no one else had before. He needed you, like he’s scarcely ever needed anything else, like he rarely ever allowed himself to. But you weren’t his, you never would be. And this was wrong and immoral, and it didn’t matter - that you seemed to be able to see right through him, that everything you said cut like a knife through all the bullshit and pretence, that your pupils were so wide they were swallowing the golden of your irises, that he could feel that you wanted it too. None of it mattered. 

“You didn’t go too far. You just… see things. And ask things, no one else ever does. And it scares me, kid. You scare the shit out of me.” 

“Me? I’m nothing. I’m… just a girl.”

“You’re everything.”

It was then you knew, that the crush was not a crush, it was so much more, too much more. It was then you knew you were heading for a potentially life-altering, life-ending fall that would break all your bones and leave you tethered on the ground, shattered and broken, unable to ever be put back together the same. And so you tried. You broke the moment that felt eternal, even though it pained you, to know at some point he wouldn’t be looking at you the way he had been then, and asked him to go home. You were quiet and compliant all the way back, and he made it easier on you by a performance of the same caliber. You didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse, that the moment clearly affected him too, enough that both of you looked like dogs with their tails between their tails as you arrived back in the village, without having spoken another word to the other, without as much as risking a glance in the other’s direction.

It was for the best. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could come of entertaining this little troubled happenstance, and truth be told, you couldn’t wait for your life to get back to normal, where he barely spoke to you and you were free to withdraw within yourself the way you knew you had to in order to heal. You were able to get over your mindless crush once before, and you were certain to be able to do it again, especially given you would had the perfect opportunity in the annual clan celebration that you had come just in time for. 

“How was it?” Neteyam was quietly hopeful about your trip with his dad, eager to be able to call you one of the People as soon as he possible could. Any effort to aid that, to allow you closer to a life he knew you deserve and knew you could make your own, was beneficial and encouraged in his mind. You loved Neteyam, and appreciate him for who he was and what he meant to you - a brother, a best friend, a confidant. You told him most things and yet, some things were just too ugly to share, and so you didn’t. Some things were better off swept under the rug, praying the lump they made was not big enough to trip on. 

“Great. I think he was right, being away from all the prying eyes helped. Guess I’ll just have to show you tomorrow. Who knows? I might even be better than the mighty warrior soon, eh?” 

He threw his head back and laughed, and you joined in his joy, already feeling better just being away from him, leisurely walking trough the village and helping out with anyone who needed a hands for tonight’s celebration. 

“Dream on, paskalin. Although, you could show me what you learnt tonight, and maybe even win a prize in the knife throwing contest. Better than sulk all night in a corner the way I know you’re itching to do.” 

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on doing that. Not tonight.” 

“Oh?” You wish you hadn’t said that, because you should have realised Neteyam would be curious and it was a subject you didn’t feel ready to talk to anyone about, especially a man, a beautiful, glorious, obviously-experienced one, such as your best friend. 

“I just mean, it’s time, you know? To try to live my life. Maybe even find someone with whom to share it with.” 

“Y-you mean… like a mate?” 

Neteyam looked taken aback by your confession, so much so that he stopped in the middle of the path, making two children bump into his legs and fall down behind him. It took a lot to make Neteyam flustered, and so you couldn’t understand why your words affected him so much. Was it so unsettling to people, the thought of an Avatar finding love on the planet that wasn’t quite home, but was the only chance at home you would ever get? Were you so repulsive as a person that the one who knew you the best thought it hard to digest that you could ever be loved by a man? 

“Forget about it, Neteyam. I’ll be at the celebration, alright? I should go get ready.” 

You left before you could hear his excuses or explanations - you knew you were sensitive, probably too sensitive. You knew you were probably overreacting, and his words didn’t have any malintent, and you knew he was most likely just taking a second to adjust to a new stage of your life you’ve never shared with him before. You knew all of these and more, and yet, your heart was tired and bruised, your mind a tumultuous whirlwind of doubt and misery. You needed time, time to heal, time to think. Time you didn't have, when the celebration was upon you.

You almost wanted to laugh now, months after that night happened, at how stupid you had been that night, how desperate and pathetic. You knew about some Na'vi, certain warriors who loved the idea of humans, of experimenting with them, of using them. You've heard the stories, you've seen the scientists coming back to the lab with them, you've been around when they talked about how good it was, how necessary the release, how passionate and life-changing the experience. In your head, that was exactly what you needed then: some sex with some random Na'vi who wanted to show you a good time, help you forget about the one you really wanted. It wasn't hard enough to find one that night, especially after you won your prize in the knife throwing competition, when the warmth of liquid courage was still embedded deep within your throat and soul, much to Neteyam's dismay. Still, the performance attracted attention, of one man in particular you cared about. Strong, 10 feet tall and muscular, he was looking at you like a meal and right then, you wanted nothing more to be devoured. You wondered what your life would have been like if that night went differently than it did. You wondered...

He barely noticed it, his wife’s touches or his clan members’ words of admiration or respect, not when the only thing his mind could focus on was the way his hand was caressing your shoulder and down your arm in gentle and intimate touches that felt too familiar for two people who have seemingly barely ever interacted before. His skin crawled at the sweet, shy smile you were sending his way and at the slight tint of purple he could see in your cheeks. You were too pure for this, Jake knew. Too pure for the intentions clear on his face that he didn’t think you fully understood, how this was all a game, a conquest, how you were a prize to be won, a trophy to be paraded around to the Na’vi who loved to brag about fucking the Avatars, the humans, the aliens. It was a game to him, and you… you weren’t a game to be played, not to Jake. 

To his surprise, he realised he was angry with you. Angry that you were humouring him, that you were giving into it, that you were enjoying it. That guy was not good enough for you, and you should know that. You should know that for your first time being touched, being someone else’s, you needed someone who knew how to handle you, how to make you feel good, show you what it feels like to give in to your wildest dreams and fantasies. You needed someone to teach you. The fury bubbling just beneath the surface worried him.

You weren’t his. You were free to do as you wished, and the thoughts that plagued him as the mother of his children was sitting in his lap, perfectly unaware, were enough to pool other feelings, like guilt and shame, and form a heady concoction of emotions that he knew sooner or later would explode all around him. None of the feelings trumped the relief that washed over him as soon as he saw Lo’ak approach the two of you and break apart the scene, and right then, in that moment, Jake never felt more grateful for his troublemaker son and his propensity for meddling in other people’s business.

You looked disappointed with the interruption, slightly irked at his son and at the way the hand that was running up and down your thigh was now vacant from the spot you obviously thought it belonged on. The boy was clearly annoyed at Lo’ak, and a smirk breeched the carefully constructed expression resting on the Olo’eyktan’s face - annoyed or not, everyone knew better than to challenge one of his sons. So, with a careful goodbye, he was gone, leaving you gesticulating widely in his direction and clearly despondent with the outcome. It wasn’t long before you left for your tent, and Jake knew that if he was to survive this night, he’d have to be careful not to give in to the one thing he wished for the most in the world. 

Your shower was hotter than what you were used to, hot enough to hopefully scald away the shame and embarrassment you felt now that you were sober once more. Your life seemed to be comprised mostly of those, recently, and while it was somewhat easy to forget how badly you fared in training your Avatar body once you got back to your bedroom and the safe confines of the labs, this new, fresh development lingered like a cold sore, painful whenever you remembered it. Did anyone else apart from Lo’ak see you, shamelessly flirting and allowing a Na’vi warrior to feel you up? Did everyone know how desperately you wanted someone to take you away and make you forget about the one man you actually wanted, the man who made all the other ones pale in comparison, the one man who you couldn’t have? You knew it was so wrong, how badly you craved his touch, what effect even a fleeting image of him in the back of your mind had on you, how your slick was running down your legs, how your brain couldn’t stop conjuring all the ways he could teach you how to be, how to love, how to live. How you knew his touch would ruin you and put you back together, kill you and finally bring you to life. 

As you fastened your towel onto your body and opened the door to your bedroom, you were startled to find the one man you couldn't shake from your mind sitting on your bed, eyes wandering over your barely dry body.

“God, Jake, you scared me!”

You couldn't believe he was in your room, as if by thinking about him hard enough you manifested him here. He was so tall, so much bigger than you as you stood now, in your human body, frail and delicate and so easy to break. He barely fit on your bed and in your room, taking most of the walking space, so much so you struggled to adjust your position to face him properly.

“…What are you doing here?” 

“What were you doing with that grunt at the party?”

You couldn't believe your ears, settling on a double take as you considered his question carefully, mulling over every word in your mind, as if doing so will finally reveal a secret meaning to it that you couldn't quite understand yet.

“Pardon?” 

“You heard me, kid.”

His words were dry and humourless. There was no levity to them, or to the situation, the room filled with thick tension, and for the first time in your life, you were almost...scared of him. Why did he care?

“I… he… we…”

“That’s what I thought. Why him? If you want someone to mate, I’m sure there’s better options out there.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jake.”

You started turning around, dizzy from the way his presence was making you feel and tired of giving him so much power to do so. You didn't manage to, though, as his large hand caught your forearm and held you in place, and when you were forcefully turned back to look at him, you saw it all. The hurt. The anger. The... betrayal. The jealousy.

“No, this isn’t how this works. You always ask questions and get me talking about shit I haven’t said out loud in decades, or ever. You’re not going shy on me now, not anymore. So why him?” 

Fuck it.

“Because it’s not you, ok?! Because it can’t be you! And I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but it’s not like I have a line of men willing to mate or even be seen with a human, an alien, a sky demon. So it has to be him! That’s why.” 

“Kid…”

The tears were pooling in your eyes like beaded pearls making your vision blurry, and the struggle with which you've been trying to remove yourself from his grasp finally paid off because you did it, you finally manage to break free, but it was too late. You were exhausted, and you knew it was time to lay it all on the table, once and for all, for him to know, and to disprove, for him to break your heart so you could finally move on.

“No, Jake! You’re in my head, all the time. It’s messing with my mind, the deluded reality I’ve been living in. You talk to me, and you notice me, and you give me attention. You touch me, and you look at me like…”

Soft sobs broke your words apart and let their meaning linger all around you, sounding like infinite echoes in the room. It would all be over soon.

“...Like you want me. And I know you don’t, and I know it’s not real, and it hurts me! So I need something else, I need someone else, I need someone to show me there’s other men out there, to pull me out of this nightm-“

His lips, soft and needy, not at all like you imagined them to be, ceased your pleading words before you got a chance to speak them. It took a second, just one second, for you to understand what was happening, to process the way the kiss was everything you've ever wanted and more than you've ever dreamed about, the way he was desperate and hungry for your touch, for you to reciprocate his feelings... so you did. And you melted under his touch, and before long, the whole world disappeared from view, and there were no consequences to your actions, and all you knew, all you needed... was him.

You were both panting when you finally came up for air, and all you wanted was more. More. A little more. Always more.

“Fuck, kid. You’ve got no idea how much I want you. But I’ll show you.” His hand wandered down your much smaller body, until his large fingers found the knot of your bathrobe, that he skilfully undoes, before sliding them over your soaked folds. “Shit. Look how wet you are for me. Let me show you, please.” 

With a nod, you dropped your head backwards and knew, in your heart, whatever was next would be the beginning of the end, of you, of him, of everything you’ve both worked so hard for and yet, all you felt was unadulterated, heavenly, euphoric bliss. 

Maybe I blame my mother bleeding into my stride Maybe it was my father and his wandering eyes (It's their fault that) I'll always be in your corner 'Cause I don't feel alive 'til I'm burnin' on your backburner

taglist:@yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm@childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl@analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower @the-mourning-moon @pandoraslxna @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @kingjulian0o9 @erenjaegerwifee @babyduk213 @@toocoldoutsideforyou

[angellic-critique]

EDIT: *Disclaimer, if you see the original posting with crude/first impressions I take full responsibility of my hostility. I'm just a disappointed and upset ex-fan. Tweaked typos, fixed Bugs Bunny Ref, and curses to be erased for accurate viewpoints as of 8/18/2024 --- Oh god, please don't get me started on how passive and surface level Blitz' """representation""" of drag/[genderswapping akin to what it feels like] alongside Moxxie are just used for eye candy/gags and NOT actual reasoning for the characters to genuinely try to show some gender expressionism! What do I mean by this? Due to Brandon Rodgers' ever present role in the show and projecting his past drag type stereotypes onto Blitz just like previous characters, without any thought and keeping it at a basis of a joke. Hence, the eye candy passive 'progressive' lack of genuine queerness is really hard to take seriously when both seasons of Helluva are like this.

Alongside Moxxie, the both of them are used as gags and jokes around/about the two cis[?] demon men reduced to visual jokes and walking punchlines rather then actually letting the characters be characters. Moxxie does not contain good or better drag considering most instances are for the plot rather then the character wanting to be drag or explore outside of their assigned genders. Before you try to bring up:

"Oh but Moxxie dressed up four different times surely that mea-"

He was the butt of the joke in all instances. Even the first time they performed drag was for a joke of a 'human disguise' that was quickly dropped post Unhappy Campers, examples being--

He was forced into drag as a disguise twice [thrice?], Forced into a wedding dress AGAINST HIS WILL MIND YOU

*Hallucination not actually the real moxxie a projection of Blitz' harboring feelings projecting moxxie to be drag- vs how he actually performs """drag"""

Spot the differences! No offense to bugs bunny of course at least he has substance and purpose to his drags for LOONEY purposes! He's saying the joke to always move the cartoon plot forward at least!

Blitz has only openly dressed in drag once and the fans applauded viv like it was a big deal. [Even though I personally believe Brandon is homophobic accidentally :/]

Even in merchandising moxxie seems uncomfortable to even perform outside of his gender role....???

I get the anxiousness is the appeal of the character but really put it into perspective why the valentines merch is like this !!!!!

I AM CRITICIZING A SHOW THAT I USED TO THINK WAS QUEER POSITIVE. I AM A QUEER YES.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Trapped between time and space

Today, I'm going to walk you through my new theory, which is about Cheng Xiaoshi going through the same ordeal than Lu Guang, except for longer, through more repeats.

I brushed the topic over my Curve Theory meta, stating that there was probably a sort of parallel universe or original unchangeable node around Lu Guang's death instead of Cheng Xiaoshi's.

The number of repeats from CXS' perspective is unknown for now, but my bet is on 10; X. 8 is also a repeated number in some official artworks, but never in the XIII format, so I'm ruling the hypothesis that it is related to time/timelines. (My guess is on the number of people with powers, because there are 8 seats on the promotional poster for season 2 and in the THE TIDES)

X marks the spot

Okay, one more time: this poster is a treasure hunt on its own. Beside the V clue, you'll notice 10 clocks. Cheng Xiaoshi underlights the biggest V with his silhouette but his entire body covers X on the smallest clock, while both hands point to X.

On both pictures, you'll find 10 candles on chandeliers (2 more candles are smaller but brighter than others). 8 glasses are on the spooky table while 10 glasses (8 wine glasses + 2 champagne glasses) are used for celebration on the second poster. I'm not the only one, someone else noticed the number 10.

X is often present, either in the background or near CXS specifically:

And I'm probably reading too much into this one but it's too perfect not to mention, since The Tides is mostly empty of clues to explore for now:

5+3 windows on the first floor (Lu Guang's perspective)

10 windows upstairs (Cheng Xiaoshi's perspective).

Anyway, what could it mean? As I argued before, Cheng Xiaoshi could be living through timelines where Lu Guang is dying while Lu Guang was diving from one picture to another to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life, except in two different universes; not inside the same Curve.

Paradox: is LEAVE possible?

Could there be more than two curves? Well, I think it's absolutely possible that the House of the Hothead, as the fandom call them, as a whole or individually, on purpose or by accident, could try and succeed to create yet another one; I'll mark them with VI (Liu Xiao is showing it to us in the artwork above).

I do believe that the Lu Guang we know and the stuck Cheng Xiaoshi are from the same timeline, originally, and keep "missing" each other somehow. They basically created a paradox, fracturing time in two intertwined curves.

Now, what did I say? Cheng Xiaoshi is stuck? Not dead? That's one interpretation of the signs, yes. What is interesting in this fandom is that clues are numbered. Cheng Xiaoshi, the original, is out of time right now, while we're witnesses to Lu Guang's struggles. And we know this... how?

First, LA!Lu Guang has different sets of rules than donghua!LG. It could be narrative error, or it could very much be on purpose. Supposely, the live action is the original timeline and the dongua is the 5th timeline of our Lu Guang's journey. Mistakes were made and rules changed accordingly. Lu Guang appears in the dongua as very composed, except when the timeline he's living in changes from what he knows had to happen.

Canon states: Cheng Xiaoshi keeps not listening to him, risking Lu Guang's hard work. This is what is stressing Lu Guang out the most. He is already changing things, but he needs Cheng Xiaoshi not to touch anything while he's diving. Why? Beside the obvious, if CXS erases one important node, there might be a rupture between then and now, making it impossible for Cheng Xiaoshi to return.

The original Cheng Xiaoshi could be lost in time. This meta suggests as much anyway: CXS's has no hands on some of his clocks, while LG's turn anticlockwise. Lu Guang is going back but Cheng Xiaoshi broke time and is stuck.

Beside clocks, Lu Guang's symbol is the hourglass and Cheng Xiaoshi's is cogs. A hourglass only stops when there is no time left, it's only a pause until it's turned over. Cogs stops when the mechanism stops working altogether. If truly broken, it won't work again. And most of all, one cog is part of a machine, can't function on its own, alone.

BREAK! could refer to Lu Guang's godlike nature and his goal to break CXS free:

I saw my fate flash through my own eyes Waitin' and watchin' for the sign Take control of all the timelines Lost in the dark, Lost in the rush

Go click the parallel line Fate's in control Play your role You ain't just a tool Clock's ticking though

Lu Guang is also pictured steady on a chair, against concrete, or as an safe anchor in the openings/endings.

While Cheng Xiaoshi is not anchored in his surroundings, though, except when holding frames or cameras. The things in contact with him hurts him.

In the Tides, he only interacts with a frame and the red cloth on the table, and with dust; arguably a proof of time, a way to print his presence in a place forgotten by time itself, it seems.

There's the mirror thematic, which might as well be called a glass prison. It shows Lu Guang on the other side, Cheng Xiaoshi seeming to be on "our" side, the side where the story we're following is unfolding. And that's true. Lu Guang is the addition in this universe we are witnessing, he's from outside of the current universe.

However, in Lu Guang's perspective, Cheng Xiaoshi is the one unknowingly prisonner. The artworks are still in Lu Guang's perspective though, his watch is purposely hidden from our view to keep us uncertain on the matter of which side is the "real" one.

Going full circle, I'd say this also can reflects two intertwined curves; never meeting. It wouldn't be about one of them diving in the past to save the other, it would be about both of them trying to find each other again.

Cheng Xiaoshi's and Lu Guang's are happening simultaneously, mirroring each other, trying to respect the timelines as much as possible except for the death of their best friend.

>>> In conclusion, there is actually three sides of a story: Lu Guang's, Cheng Xiaoshi's and the truth. I have no doubt the whole show is making the biggest diversion in history of tvshows by serving us everything but the actual plotline. Some "memory of the week" in season 1, then season 2 told us two can play this game of playing with fate, and now yingdu chapter is going to prepare us for the truth. What is amusing is that each season gives us a set of new "rules" for this universe. (I'll try to make a detailed post about it at some point, after some summer re-watch.) Each rule is usually a forshadowing on what happens next.

Liu Xiao's character is also a very interesting one. Some people suggested that he could be Cheng Xiaoshi or Lu Guang from the future. But he could be from another curve, with a different kind of unchangeable node. He could be a version a Cheng Xiaoshi who never met Lu Guang for example. His goal seems to melt everything into One True Timeline, I think? That alone rises some questions.

~

That's everything for today! I would like to dive even deeper about all the different timeline according to colors but it will probably be a whole other meta.

[salty-an-disco]

*thinks about how there's several different versions of Hero who acts a little different depending on which route you take him through–*

*thinks about how the Hero that appears in the middle of the final battle describes himself as being 'all of them'*

*thinks about how all those different Heroes might not have been able to completely integrate themselves into a single individual*

Conclusion: Hero would develop a system (a median system, to be more exact)

Yep. This was the main reason I started drawing different variants for Hero in different chapters and givin' them different names, everyone can go home now /lhj /silly

Anyway, since I already drew all the guys, might as well talk about them in the context of Hero being a system

(note: I've semi-recently found I, myself, am a system, so a lot of this is me processing this stuff and trying to puzzle things out through my blorbo. shout out to Hero for making this discovery a lot easier to digest. that means a lot of what I'm writing here comes from my own experience and perspectives. Also, I'll be calling the different Heroes 'facets', as that represents better what they are to him)

Since they all come from the exact same source (forms through Chapter I), they don't really see themselves as all that separate or different people. The different titles are more nicknames than anything, they're all 'Hero', just– from a slightly different angle and with different roles/priorities. Hero doesn't hear distinct voices in his head like Quiet, he's more like Shifty, in a way, having their feelings and different texture affect his behavior.

Hero is vaguely aware of these different facets, even giving them those titles as a way to organize and understand himself, but doesn't worry too much about it. That's just how he is.

As for the different facets and their role within the system–

– Hero: Host; front-stuck – Technically speaking, his route would be the Stranger one, as that's where he spent the least amount of time in Chapter I and didn't develop any other identity besides 'Hero'. Not necessarily the 'original', and would rather not worry about that lest it triggers another existential crisis, but is definitely the 'main one'. The main face that's always there. Behavior and thought-process can change depending on other facets present.

– Savior: Protector/Persecutor – Formed when his will power was broken and subdued by someone far stronger. Is intent on not letting that happen again. Very headstrong and certain of himself; he has to be, or else their willpower will break again. Mainly appears to help deal with threats much bigger than them. (Fun fact: in warped AU, he and Hero were fused together)

– Champion: Physical Protector – Formed by a desire to fight and persevere against an opponent that can kill you. Very strategy-minded, focused on better ways to get out of a confrontation alive. Will always try to get out of battles with the least amount of injuries to the body possible. Does not like confrontation, but will go through it if it means survival. Appears anytime there's a need to fight and/or survive. Often alongside Savior or Fledgling.

– Liar: Social Protector/Caretaker – Formed when forced to betray someone you previously intended on helping. Despite the title, Liar is very aversed to lying, and despises when others are being dishonest. Why play these weird games that just makes things more difficult? Can't we just be blunt with each other and makes things easier? Appears when the host feels judged or like he's being given an unfair assumption during a social encounter, or later on, when the host is thinkin' back to a certain social situation that didn't go to well. Helps process those leftover feelings and make sure the host is doing well emotionally and socially.

– Fledgling: Protector – Formed when made to feel cornered by a dangerous creature and clawed to death. Similar role to Champion, in theory, though he appears, more broadly, when the host starts feeling cornered in any way. Which doesn't happen solely in physical fights. Very helpful when appearing to deal with a physical threat, not so much when the threat is more emotional or social.

– Dashing: Emotion Holder/Uplifter – Formed from a desire to do nothing but good to someone else. Not as positive and optimistic as his paired voice during The Damsel, but still makes sure the host knows doesn't forget there's always a bright side and some hope to hold on to. Makes sure the host is taking the time to appreciate the things and people he love and that he isn't getting to caught up in worries and anxiety.

– Accomplice: Memory Holder/Cheergiver – Formed when despite your misgivings, you put your trust in someone else. His role is more vague than the others, but is generally there to give support to those outside of the system. Makes the host take a step back and let someone they trust take the reigns, for once.

– Haunted: Caretaker – Formed while spending a good few lifetimes in Nothingness. Not exactly sure what he's supposed to do here, but tries his best to help. Took some pointers from Cold and encourages the host to put feelings aside for now, if only to focus on taking care of the body before diving back into them. The one that knows self-care, and appears when the body desperately needs it.

– Dreamer: Trauma Holder – Formed as you tried to close your eyes and pretend there's no danger just in front of you. This one is Trauma Personified and mainly only appears when the host is triggered. When he appears, it's very difficult for Hero to differentiate reality from delusions, and it feels like he's back in the construct, fighting for his life and sanity.

– Ribbons: ???/Shell – Formed across 4 chapters; as more pieces broke off, very little was left of him. Less of a facet and more a general feeling of Nothingness. That can be useful when the host is feeling too overwhelmed to think. Just kinda makes Hero zone out and shut down when he appears.

Bonus: what it looks like when some of the facets are close to front. Whether or not Hero will shapeshift depends on how long a facet lingers, and how much they're affecting him. Often, he doesn't shapeshift at all despite the many facets that appeared throughout the day

[fairuzfan]

Literally studying to be a journalist right now and the number one thing my course teaches is that you're supposed to present all available facts, don't let one group's voice dominate, and to always say just how you got information and what you do and don't know and why. Every major news network in the US is failing to do that right now but that Atlantic article is making me lose it extra from a professional perspective on top of from a human perspective. It's so easy to, instead of saying that something terrible is legal in a certain context, say that the ruling-class and/or occupying government considers it legal, and then dive into what exactly legality means for the victims in question and what the victims' government's power is in relation to the occupier. "It's legal," okay, to who and what is their history and current sociopolitical relations and what does legality mean due to those things. It's basic ethics and morals and the Atlantic and everyone else is shitting the bed and it's literally the opposite of what you're taught to do, which is just adding to my fury and disgust. Fuck all these journalists fuck these news companies. May they rot in hell and be used as stomach-churning examples of what never to do in future history and journalism classes, amen

Yeah at one point I wanted to go into journalism but stopped after a few classes so seeing like very intro level journalistic malpractice is soooo shocking to me and I'm not even an amateur.

Not to mention the article is clearly biased against hamas in a way that makes the reader already attribute the fault of the children's deaths towards them (they literally talk about human shields as a reason for it being legal to kill children). If you read the article that is definitely what the author is trying to say. The only difference is that they are saying "it might make some people uncomfortable but it's not *illegal*" which is a pointless statement to make overall.

But anyways it's literally one of the worst articles I've read these past few months, I'm so surprised this wasn't an opinion piece and just a straight up actual "news" article.