#the documentary hypothesis means so much to me

[now-go-study]

I think my mistake in Jewish study groups is always assuming that everyone else is way more down with the documentary hypothesis of the authorship of the Torah than they actually are, so I’ll say something about something being reinterpreted between Exodus and Deuteronomy because in my head I’m thinking about the Deuteronomic historian, but then my very nice rabbi will go, “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as saying the Torah interprets itself! That’s our job” and I’m just like 🧍🏼‍♀️ duh Kyra this is not a history class

[codenamesazanka]

(my translation)

“Police Investigation” - does that mean… Tsukauchi? He's been at the Shigaraki/League investigation from the start, and I don't see why Deku wouldn't tell him about Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko.

Which makes me wonder - does this mean the police do know about Shimura Tenko? And what happened in the Shimura household? And what All For One did? Which is the core thing - All For One literally reveals that he plotted Tenko’s birth and home life and quirk. Deku was right there for it. He would know. He told Tsukauchi, right? And now, the TV documentary also knows about this “tragic past”?

Does this mean people know that Shigaraki’s tragic past is generational trauma + kidnapping + given a deadly quirk + grooming? Even just a brief overview is pretty gruesome. But it's being dismissed as “sentimental”? Or they think talking about all these horrible things is… sentimental? Literally with the 419 reveal, Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko has a very strong argument for “never made a choice of his own” and immensely undue influence… but no one cares? They don't want to care? Do Tsukauchi and Deku care?

“It's important to push the causes into the light,” the people say, but are they acting like so? Have they identified the cause of a Hero abandoning her family and leading to a fraught home life even to the next generation? Have they identified the issue of All For One being so sneaky and powerful that he was able to do this, and why did this Villain have so much control and influence? He was able to target Kotarou... because All Might and Gran Torino never checked up on the kid. He was able to have access to orphanages and quirks because he had the Doctor... who was the man society ostracized 70 years ago for pushing a hypothesis about quirks. Are they doing anything about it????

“People inspired by him will appear again and things will repeat” feels like it's directed at Spinner, but the thing is: Spinner was able to be influenced because of his own miserable background that occurred without interference from All For One or knowing Shigaraki’s past. We saw that unfold on page - Spinner was already empty, which allowed him to connect to Shigaraki’s emptiness. The League came to Shigaraki because they were already broken people, and it's not until months afterwards that they even found out his past.

TALK about that fucking tragic past and learn to deal with those holes in your society!

[a-magical-evening]

I was thinking about my ask about Matt and Trey hugging and it kinda does seem like Matt is deliberately avoiding hugging Trey. This is just a guess, I don't really have any info to support this hypothesis. But maybe Trey doesn't like hugging people in general?? Has he hugged someone else before?? I really don't know.

There's a huge chance I'm wrong but maybe Trey doesn't like being hugged so Matt is just respecting his personal space?? It would honestly give more context why Matt gave Trey an air hug instead of walking up to him and hugging him. The hug from Baseketball could be an exception and just him acting. But in social situations he doesn't like it.

I donno do you think this theory has any truth to it?

Ooh, hello again 😊 That’s an interesting theory, and it’s had me pondering all morning! (No worries RE: guessing, providing evidence. It’s fun to think about these things, and look for patterns, especially when we recognise that it’s all speculation.)

First, I’m not sure if Matt’s deliberately avoiding hugging Trey, though I must admit it does appear that way, and if the reason is he’s respecting Trey’s boundaries, I’m totally on board with that. However, there may not have been many opportunities for a genuine hug between them to be captured on film.

A few things come to mind that might contribute to not having visuals of M&T hugs:

Men often aren’t huggers 🤷‍♀️ That could be a sweeping statement, skewed through my cultural lens as a Brit, but at least in my experience, guys don’t hug that much.

The times we get to see M&T are often red carpets, appearances, interviews, documentaries, etc., and those aren’t really conducive to hugging. They wouldn’t hug in greeting, for example, if they’d already hung out backstage or spent the whole day together already. Those types of hugs all probably occur “off camera.”

We’ve got pics of them (most likely) drunk hugging/grabbing each other, so it’s not something they won’t do, but that could further support that hugging doesn’t really come up that often for them in their public appearances.

That being said, other forms of physical touch don’t seem to be off the table for them. As I mentioned in the hug post, they often rest their head on or put their arms around each other, which might contradict the theory that Trey doesn't like being touched.

Related: @behind-the-blow pointed out a moment (that I can't find right now, argh!!) in which Matt touches Trey’s arm as they’re walking onstage to accept an award. It might've been awkward if they’d walked up there and just hugged each other, but Matt's touch conveyed so much while also taking into account that they’re stood before a massive audience.

I feel it’s worth considering too how M&T get physically close with others (besides their partners and children, where hugs are probably a given.) John Stamos immediately comes to mind! I know next to nothing about this man, but he seems to exhibit some sort of gravitational pull that makes Matt and Trey more open to physical proximity. Perhaps that’s just how John is, so it rubs off on those around him. That gives weight to your theory that Trey might not like hugging in general, if it takes someone who's openly tactile to get him into that mindset.

I mean, look at this guy’s power!

There’s also this lovely pic of Trey with Andrew Rannells that lives in my head rent free.

It reminds me so much of how Trey cuddles up to Matt in some pictures. It’s physically quite intimate, but again, perhaps not as much as a hug is.

Again, I’ve rambled on 😅, but I definitely think there could be truth in your theory. I could also believe Matt isn’t into hugging, Trey isn’t, or neither of them are, or it's simply not something they’re comfortable doing in public, or it just doesn't come up very often. Either way, it'd make my life if we did get footage of them hugging!!! I've got my fingers crossed we'll get something like that in the upcoming Casa Bonita documentary!! 🕯️🕯️🕯️

[differentsublimephantom]

@zombinafonfrankenstein @seriously-nobody @abiscuit @griffinappreciator @mistressofthemacabresworld

@dreamelies @hostess-of-horror @caspertheconfused

Here is my (probably very bad) Universal Monsters chatfic!! (There’s a bunch of context for my au under the cut, so if you wanna skip it you’ll have to scroll a bit :/ )

Here’s a crapton of context for my AU:

All the characters have access to modern technology for completely unknown reasons (probably due to time travel caused by one of the scientists or something?) (and it makes for funny scenarios). Dracula and Renfield have a healthy (if a bit crazy) romantic relationship (inspired by Gomez and Morticia Addams) because I can’t bring myself to write abuse/conflict. Franky (Frankenstein’s monster) and Bea (bride of Frankenstein) are very cute kind couple (and they are ace) they also both have the intelligence of 18-20 year olds (for the sake of the plot). Jekyll and Hyde are here even though I’m pretty sure universal never made a movie with them. Both Larry Talbot and Jack Griffin’s families think they are dead. Kharis (the mummy) and Gil (creature from the black lagoon) also have average intelligence (because plot) and Kharis speaks English and whatever ancient Egyptian language he spoke when he was alive. Gil speaks English, and gets sick when in saltwater because he is (as far as I know) lagoons are (mostly) freshwater. They are all roommates living and “living” in the same house, the mansion from Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein. Griffin is a menace, frequently pranks everyone, and brags about crashing a train. I’m 95.9% sure none of these characters are actually “in character”, this is as “ooc” as you could get lmao

(Btw I wrote this as if it was gonna be posted on ao3 ((it’s not)) so that’s why it has chapters and chapter descriptions)

Chapter 1: documentary

(Griffin pranks Larry Talbot)

Griffin: social experiment: I play a wolf documentary in a room in the same house as a werewolf. Hypotheses: all the howling will bother him. Expected outcome: either I prank him and he’s too tired to do anything about it, or I get my ass kicked.

Jekyll: ..I- what? Don’t do that Jack. It’s mean.

Griffin: do you forget that I crashed a train?

Jekyll: oh yeah, I purposefully ignore that fact.

Griffin: rude. your ignoring one of my greatest achievements >:(

Jekyll: It’s *You’re and yes. Yes I am.

Dracula: why would a documentary bother Lawrence? It’s on a screen? Fake?

Griffin: I have that answer in the hypothesis >:) also, wdym fake?

Franky: Dracula… do you think documentaries are staged??

Dracula: yes..??? Aren’t they?

Jekyll: No!

Larry: whoever is watching that documentary about wolfs- PLEASE WATCH LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

Griffin: OMFG HYPOTHESIS = CORRECT XD

Griffin: I mean…. wow, whoever’s watching that is definitely not funny.. turn it off guys.

Larry: griffin I can hear your deranged cackling from across the house. It’s not funny, my werewolf senses are going crazy, TURN IT OFF

Griffin : why?? I’ve done no wrong 🥺

Jekyll: that’s historically inaccurate.

Larry: don’t “🥺” me! And you’ve done MUCH WRONG!

Griffin: that’s fair. But no. :)

Larry: why not?! You’re just doing it to bother me!!

Griffin: you can’t prove that! And it’s for educational purposes.

Larry: you admitted it in your previous texts idiot. I can scroll up and see them? “EdUcAtIoNaL PuRpOsEs” bs 🙄

Franky: hey griffin how about you try to bother Gil with a ocean life documentary?

Griffin: oooooooo good idea Franky!

Jekyll: Don’t encourage him Franky!!

Larry:….

In a different group chat…:

Larry: Gil is from the Brazilian Rainforest not the ocean?

Franky: it got the wolf documentary to stop didn’t it??

Larry: ooooohhhhh gotcha ;) thanks

Franky: ;) your welcome. Griffin is sometimes like a toddler, if you want to distract him just give him a shiny new toy to play with.

Larry : ah. Makes sense.

Chapter 2: when a mummy catches you…

(Gil asks an interesting question)

Gil: soooooooo…….what do mummies….. actually….. do?

Kharis: rude!!

Gil: No, I mean, if you were human, being chased by different monsters, what are the consequences?

Gil: a vampire drinks your blood, a werewolf bites you, a zombie eats you, what do mummies do to you?

Kharis: keep asking that question and you’ll find out.

Gil: I’m just wondering!!

Kharis: we beat the living hell outta you when you ask us dumb questions.

Gil: message received!! Chill!

Kharis: thanks 🙄😑

Chapter 3: jello and insomnia

(Bea is eating jello at three am and gets “inspired”)

3:17AM

Bea: could you make jello out of ranch?

Franky: honey, wtf???? Its 3am come back to bed!!

Bea: I’m in the kitchen eating. Can’t sleep. Answer the question.

Franky: no????? It’s too thick of a substance.

Bea: sad. If I could I’d eat ranch cubes with carrot jello.

Franky: ew???

Renfield: what about ketchup jello?? Or pure mayonnaise jello? Or BLOOD jello??

Dracula: that last one sounds yummy ;)

Franky: please stop :/

Bea: babe it’s for science! What about sparkling water jello?? Like- the jello is FIZZY ya know?

Dracula: carbonated jello you mean

Bea: yeah!

Franky: I hate everything about this conversation.

Renfield: relish jello.

Franky: 🤢

Dracula: I know for a fact that some of these exist. Meat jello exists.

Franky: ew, what?

Dracula: blame the Great Depression. Look it up.

Renfield: master!! What about bug jello?!

Dracula: probably not, but there are bug lollipops I think.

Renfield: oh my god I want one

Bea: cheese jello.

Franky: ALL OF YOU GO TO BED PLEASE

Dracula: I’m nocturnal and Renfield stays up late with me, tell Bea to go to bed not me

Franky: BEA PLEASE

Bea: I’ll be in bed in 5 minutes

Franky: thank you… 😮‍💨🥹

9:33AM

Hyde: what the HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?? (And why wasn’t I a part of it?)

Chapter 4: diary

(Griffins steals a diary to try to get secrets)

Griffin: HAHAHAHHAHAHAH OMFGGG

Dracula: oh no…

Bea: what did you do.??

Griffin: I found Kharis’ diary!! >:)

Bea: if you picked it up and took it, then you STOLE Kharis’ diary

Griffin: …shush… anyways!!! Anyone know good ideas on how to blackmail him?

Dracula: griffin that’s not a good idea.

Gil: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Griffin: whats so funny Gil?  🤔

Kharis: open the diary idiot.

Bea: oh shit Griffin you’ve been caught

Griffin: GIL DID YOU SNITCH??

Gil: no?? you haven’t opened the book yet have you??

Griffin: ……..

Griffin: …I just did.

Kharis: ;)

Griffin: f you.

Dracula: what happened? What’s in the diary?

Griffin:….. its in hieroglyphics.

Dracula: OMG

Gil: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA KARMA LMAO

Griffin: :’(

Kharis: oh “boo hoo”, you were gonna blackmail me!!

Griffin: thats fair.

chapter 5: the munsters

(Hyde asks a question)

Hyde: you guys know The Munsters right?

Larry: yeah.?

Hyde: well if the dad is a “Frankenstein’s monster” character, and the mom is a vampire, why is their son a werewolf?

Larry: ….

Larry: that’s actually a good question.

Griffin: simple. Lily cheated.

Kharis: or he’s adopted? 😑

Griffin: the cheating storyline is more interesting.

Kharis: sure.

Hyde: plot twist: their milkman is a werewolf ;)

Griffin: HYDE YOU SEE MY VISION YES

Hyde: oh no what did I just start?

Kharis: please don’t encourage him.

Larry: griffin and Hyde trying to prove Lily Munster cheated:

Kharis: XD

Griffin: oh, shut up. >:(

~Fin~

[lacenvs3000w24]

finding footing in art & nature🦋🌿

This week’s post is about the interpretation of nature through art – I’ll be focusing less on how I interpret nature through art, and more about how I have come to find my footing in doing so.

A quotation from chapter 3 of the textbook (Beck, Cable, & Knudson, 2018) really struck a chord with me for this topic. Talking about studying nature in schools, Burroughs (1916) said that it was:

“Too cold, too special, too mechanical; it is likely to rub the bloom off Nature. It lacks soul and emotion. It misses the accessories of the open air and its exhilarations, the sky, the clouds, the landscape, and the currents of life that pulse everywhere.”

I feel that many of us can relate to this excerpt, as did I. Rub the bloom off Nature.

It sounds silly, and I still sometimes feels pretty embarrassed by it, but I really feel like the driving force behind my choice of major (Zoology) was nature documentaries, photography, and Diane Fossey and Jane Goodall’s stories. The images on a TV screen of people out in the wild, so intimately and genuinely immersed in the beauties and intricacies of nature – that is what drove it home for me.

I can’t honestly say that I was thinking - primarily - about learning the ins and outs of statistical methods. Nor was I considering the how-to’s of data acquisition and manipulation, or even hypothesis formulating.

Realistically, I was thinking about how cool it would be to study a major that was defined by natural historians and explorers like Charles Darwin, or the people I saw on Nat Geo programs.

So… who am I to interpret nature through art? I’m someone in a (to some, surprisingly) technical, scientific major. Someone who didn’t necessarily know what they were signing up for, who was (naively) hoping for an experience akin to these creative interpretations. But I’m someone who has come to love these studies because they’ve immensely deepened the connection I’ve always felt to the beauty of nature. When I see a scenic landscape shot or a charming illustration of anything wild, I have so much more in my interpretive toolset than I ever did before. I can parse through the dramatic editing and enhanced colours to find a deeper meaning, one that is simultaneously more informed and more abstract.

The bloom may have been rubbed off a little, but now I can take steps to paint it back on.

Of course, this need not apply to members of the audience. As the hopeful interpreter, I’m fortunate to have this science + art lens, and it is indeed my responsibility to translate that dual perspective into a single, coherent, and cohesive one.

And how do I interpret the gift of beauty? Through that dual perspective.

One of Tilden’s (1957) Principles of Interpretation is that

“the chief aim of interpretation is not instruction, but provocation”

Philosophers have made attempts through millennia to articulate the importance of beauty. One particularly ephemeral type of beauty has been described as “the sublime”. Crudely, it has to do with the almost agonizing appreciation we feel when we see a mountainscape, the ocean, a sprawling forest – something naturally beautiful, perhaps chaotic, immense (notice that most philosophers can’t help but define it in terms of NATURAL beauty).

[ Among the Sierra Nevada, California (1868), Albert Bierstadt. ]

Part of the gift of beauty is in its interpretation; the self-reflection that compels us to ask

why is this sight making me feel this way??? and HOW?

Combining that stand-alone beauty with technical knowledge is a simple step we take after being inexplicably provoked by nature. A step towards appreciating, defining, putting our finger on the gorgeous gift that Mother Nature is, and then making our own creations to try to capture that beauty – kind of like how a painter might study a renowned artist by recreating their work. In this way, we gain some insight into how Mother Nature put all these elements together to make a creation so breathtaking.

---

References

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World. Sagamore Publishing.

Burroughs, J. (1916). Under the apple trees. New York, NY: William H. Wise & Co.

Tilden, F. (1957). Interpreting our heritage. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press.

[willowhush]

hello earth-lings! my name is charlotte millicent, you may call me ‘charlotte’ or any other nicknames of your choice. i’m an INFP who goes by she/her pronouns and a scorpio who is already on her legal age.

read this first!

i do not welcome anyone who follows me without any consent or following me first, unless — i have replied to your friendship offer before, you already asked me for a permission to follow me first, or i have known you before on my other account. anyone who does not fit these criteria will be soft-blocked/blocked.

fun facts about me:

i’m a huge fan of movies, especially thriller, crime, true crime documentaries, mystery, horror, comedy, action-comedy, romance and romcom. some of my favorite movies are coraline, mean girls, white chicks, clueless, 21 jump street, baywatch, red notice, legally blonde, black swan, the conjuring universe, robert langdon franchise, kong skull island, the notebook, a walk in the clouds, fifty shades trilogy, before trilogy, harry potter series, jurassic and jurassic world series.

other than that, i also love watching cartoons and barbie films. some of my favorite cartoons are oggy and the cockroaches, tom and jerry and spongebob. for barbie films, my favorite is barbie princess charm school. the others are barbie the princess and the pop star, barbie in a mermaid tale, barbie and the three musketeers, barbie a fairy secret and barbie in the pink shoes.

i adore rapunzel so much, my forever favorite disney princess. tmi, i even sang the theme song of rapunzel's movie, "i see the light" for a school project, and it has been one of my favorite song ever since i was a kid.

i'm a huge fan of mcu, my favorite mcu character is loki (my fav ever since i was little, i literally cried so hard at the cinema when he d word at avangers infinity war), other than him i also like eric killmonger, thor, hela, spiderman (tobey maguire ver), phoenix, professor x, quicksilver and magneto. for mcu movies/series i like avangers endgame, all thor movies, black panther, x-men apocalypse and the loki series.

i watch youtube literally everyday, my comfort youtubers are kennedy walsh (loml), sydney serena, thewizardliz, nessie judge (i love her true crime contents so much) and ozley asmr.

i’m a huge fan of cooking shows! some of my favorites are kitchen nightmares, hell’s kitchen, and master chef. these shows mostly feature gordon ramsay and i really love his shows, beside those 3 cooking shows i also enjoy watching his other tv show called hotel hell.

i love listening to music and my favorite singers and bands are avril lavigne (i listen to her music since i was in elementary school), taylor swift, troye sivan, melanie martinez, olivia rodrigo, blackmore’s night, the marias and iron maiden (yes. i love metal songs. so much.)

i also like kpop, the groups that i stan are blackpink, red velvet, twice, ive, g-idle, wayv, nct, exo, the boyz, riize and zb1. let me tell you my ults! my ults are lisa (my forever favorite girlie), seulgi, irene, nayeon, wonyoung, miyeon, ten, sehun, juyeon, wonbin and ricky. for soloists, i like iu, sunmi, bibi and hyewon.

i’m also a bookworm, i love reading books so so so much! some of my favorite books are call me by your name by andré aciman, love and gelato by jenna evans welch, kisses and croissants by anne-sophie jouhanneau, the love hypothesis by ali hazelwood, the notebook by nicholas sparks, the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde and twisted series by ana huang.

i really love and adore animals! i love dogs and cats so much! i own 4 dogs, they have been my friends for 10 years (and still counting) now. there is also a cat that always come to my grandparents’ house everyday, and i called her “meng” and i usually play with her every week.

more about me, i fancy high fashion (i love talking about designer handbags and i also tweet and retweet a lot of stuffs about fashion so i hope you’re okay with it), makeup, art, hot choco, coffee (i drink coffee literally everyday, so “no coffee no me”)

i love snoopy so so so much, i also love sanrio too. guess who's my favorite sanrio character(s)? yup, it's cinnamoroll, kuromi, my melody, wish me mell and cogimyun.

some things that i hate are cockroaches, hot weather (i hate being sweaty), thunderstorms, math (big no big ew), homework (disgusting), matcha, taro, mint choco, overly sweet foods and spicy foods.

dnf list:

fits basic dni criteria.

hates or anti any of my ults.

likes to join fanwar.

lgbtqphobic.

account that contains heavy nsfw or gore contents.

problematic.

salty.

wota

PA (personal account).

minor and +27 user.

extra notes:

if somehow you make me feel uncomfortable with you, i will soft-block you. no hard feelings.

i’m very very very slow on replying to text messages, i don’t open my dm/line too often. so if you have something important to say to me, please do mention me on timeline and ask me to check on your messages.

i usually tweet in english and bahasa, but please note that english is not my first language. so i hope you can understand if there is grammatical errors, feel free to correct me nicely.

my tweets may contain mentions of ed and weight loss that might trigger you, so feel free to soft-block me if you get triggered.

please do not private qrt me (it causes me extreme anxiety). also, if i ever made any mistake feel free to knock on my dm or send me a message on retrospring anytime to educate me.

do not hesitate to reach out to me first if you want to be friends (you can mention or dm me), i'm always open to those who wants to start a friendship with me.

take notes!

i clean my followers often to maintain a small circle, so if i feel like you rarely interact with me and barely seen on timeline, i will soft-block you. no hard feelings.

lastly, thank you so much for taking some time to read this, i really appreciate it. i hope this will help you to get to know me more.

ꕮ

[valenshawke]

Been trying to find some long background noise as I do other things. You know, some documentary on a useless subject that you can mentally tune in and out from and...

It used to be various conspiracy theory videos, especially of the UFO (UAP) conspiracy theories and the Extraterrestrial Hypothesis, that were my jam. These days, having done a bit more research and reading updates, a lot of the so-called classic cases have been shown as hoaxes either as a hoaxed event or a hoax based on something that has a very mundane explanation for monetary purposes.

So I'm actually trying to find a UFO Documentary that debunks the same old regurgitated conspiracy theories (Majestic 12, Bob Lazar, Roswell, Maury Island Incident, Aztec - New Mexico Hoax, the Hudson Valley Sightings, the Phoenix Lights, The Belgian UFO sightings, Crop Circles, and Cattle Mutilations) and the newer ones

And those are much harder to come-by. I guess that's what happens you have a cottage industry.

This is not to say I don't believe life doesn't or hasn't existed elsewhere in the vastness of the universe, especially given it's age. But I can ever prove or disprove it with our current tech and scientific understanding. So I call it for what it is: Faith.

I want to believe, trust me. But the older I get, the more the flaws or these theories become apparent. It's almost like doing comparative mythology or folklore.

But like I said, I wish 1% of the UFO Conspiracy Theories WERE true.

Means I can possibly get off this doomed and forsaken rock.

[dooodle-bug]

Extremely Complicated and Detailed Analysis of the Vellumentals: An Essay

Idk why but those guys and their lore has kinda bothered me. So, I shall move through the gameplay and analyze their presence, meaning, and whatever the fuck is going on with them! Note that much of this is going to be hypothesis, speculation, and also verrryyyy long-

Without further ado, enjoy!

The first mention of them is with the Koopas at the Earth Vellumental Temple, where we are presented with the fact that the vellumentals are these enormous, god-like beings, that likely existed for a long while.

Specifically with the Earth Vellumental, we find it to be worshiped by the koopas, likely bc theyre both turtles. In the exhibit, we see its very obviously a coin grab with all the lights and documentaries etc, the curator confirming this and adding:

Crafted from their imagination? Real thing? Speaking of which, why hasnt any koopa even NOTICED it's all a sham?! Well, I'd like to propose that, perhaps, once upon a time the vellumentals were greatly worshiped (notice the similar and unique architecture among their resting places. I doubt they themselves could build something so sophisticated with their giant hands), however the practice of worshiping them simply died out like many ancient religions, only their houses of worship remaining.

This would explain why the koopas were so easily swayed by the curator; they had nothing to go off of! And, likely, the vellumentals were just seen as myths or rumors, the curator transforming that into its own religion.

Basically, the vellumentals were originally worshiped by paper folk, who built grand architecture in their honor and image, only to eventually die down over the years for some unknown reason with only fragments of their memory now.

Anyways, later on we see the earth vellumental itself, now folded (and probably stapled) by olly and brainwashed to do his bidding for obtaining his power and destroying our path (it's up for debate if they attack bc of getting all corrupted and fucked by olly or bc he commanded them to do so). This alone implies that the vellumentals were originally paper and are in fact real ancient spirits/gods with the power to manipulate the elements. Which would give a very plausible reason for why they were worshiped

Furthermore, the reason why Olly could fold them could be bc he was just changing their form instead of killing, and the reason we could "defeat" them was because they were already in a weak and vulnerable state (that or the curator was just lying but idk i think gods should be immortal n all).

Once we defeat it, we see a sequence similar to that of the defeat of the legion of stationery; a big bright flash of light, before it simply.. shrinks down and its form becomes simply a vellumental circle and a "bibliofold".

Since we are talking about a fucking GOD here, i'd like to interpret this scene as not death, but rather, the vellumental's physical form being destroyed, reducing it back to its spiritual form. I'd also like to believe what Olivia says about it is true:

Maybe it KNEW of how evil Olly's plans were, how the crew saved it from its painful folded form and wanted to reward them, and provide aid in their quest to stopping him. it's just a nice thought...

But...what exactly are the bibliofolds?? Well, it's not explicitly explained, but from what is implied and the fact that Olly mentions them, I think it can be theorized that the bibliofolds are basically the vellumentals handing off their power, whether by force or will. In this case, they provide the knowledge of origami folding into images of themselves (I'd like to think Olly folded them himself and got the instructions and ability to fold himself and use the power), as only Olly and Olivia can possess the folding power in the first place

What about the vellumental circles? well, as i have previously theorized about magic circles, they are lil pockets of energy that give the user the sheer power and energy to do the transformation they otherwise couldnt do normally, which are usually created unintentionally from the insane overflow and usage of magic. So, yeah I think it's the same as 1000 fold arm magic circles.

With this information in mind, I'm going to continue the discussion about the rest of the vellumentals as well as their collective lore.

With the Water vellumental, we dont get too much information, except for the fact that the shrine may or may not have transformed into more of a tourist location? and also that there may actually be a few people who still DO worship the vellumental (notice the empty tuna cans by the lil offering post. unless thats just litter)

The yellow streamer poses much more interesting lore, such as the presence of vellumental worship via statues and images, implying it was the ancient ones who worshiped the vellumentals in their religion and were likely the builders of the houses of worship and such we see throughout the game. (Most of the important vellumental locations here seem to be mostly untouched, likely due to nobody seeming to be able to make money off of it from not understanding the ancient ones)

And while, this is not gonna be an analysis on the ancient ones themselves, there's certainly going to be overlap between the two.

For example, when are faced with the puzzle of finding the fire vellumental, there is a mural that directly references the vellumental's ability. And while this could be just a game mechanic, I do not care and im going to include it in the lore

This would further concrete the idea that the ancient ones were the ones to worship the vellumentals, as well as directly relying on them during rituals such as in the puzzle we see here. But there's something that doesnt make sense.

Why is there a vellumental circle here? How could it possibly be made from those lanky towers if previously, it was established that only origami could harness this power?? How would the ancient ones even USE it??? Well, I propose an idea: perhaps they, due to their worship, were able to harness the powers of the vellumentals, given to them as a gift. Perhaps because they had their own "bibliofolds" from them, they were able to use these circles in a way different than what we see with origami. The circles still functioned the same in providing energy, its just that because the ancient ones could harness the vellumental power, they too could use these circles. I mean, think about it; Olivia cant use the circles without the bibliofolds AND it would only make sense given their knowledge of the vellumentals in comparison to what we see today.

This would also explain the reason why the temple was buried. We know from Professor that it was to protect the resting place of Shroomses from being robbed at night, but the way it seems to sink into the earth seems unreasonable... unless of course they somehow harnessed the power of the earth vellumental to control it??? And it could also explain how Captain T. Ode's imprisonment in a block of ice, only to be revealed under the sun would work???? ;o)

Moving onto the Great Sea, which might I say, is truly great in the amount of lore given.

Diamond Island is a very unique place, with so many questions unanswered.

I can give an easy answer to the trials: During ancient times, people were able to go on some sort of quest in the Great Sea to prove their worth to be able to find the "paradise". The worthy were ferried to Diamond island to prove themselves using the ultimate tests (note how the trials are extremely standardized and refer to you as just "traveler"), obtaining three orbs that would lead them to the sea tower.

I dont understand the reason for the Ice Vellumentals residing place to be here or why it is completely underground, but perhaps, as mentioned prior, wielding the vellumental power was more well known and used, adding on Another difficult challenge of traveling to the mountain to get that power from it to get to the three main trials. It's also probably underwater to make the trials much more difficult to get to for the common people, making this challenge truly only for the worthy.

But then what about the Sea Tower, the final Vellumental themed area? Well, I hypothesis it to be the most important house of worship, in which only the ones who are truly worthy of the vellumental power can visit such a sacred place. We see so many references to each of them (as well as the need for using their power) it would only make sense.

And the reward for passing such trials and being blessed by vellumental power is the transport to Paradise, or what I'd like to believe is some sort of form of heaven, Shangri Spa, filled with only white toads (which we have never seen before), and highly restricted from the public (Bowser's army doesnt count, as during the ancient times, such technology likely didnt exist and allow for outside easy access).

Essentially, the vellumentals were these ancient gods or spirits of sorts, working alongside the ancient ones, granting them some of their powers (and providing a paradise for the worthy), in return for praise and worship, in which the ancients would build many structures in their honor and for them to inhabit. However, the ancient ones died off, their religion following. For an unknown reason the vellumentals must have stowed away in their houses of worship, now becoming only a myth, lost to time. Eventually, their existence would be uncovered, when King Olly learned of them to exploit their powers, now becoming what we see today.

And thats all i got for you guys! Thank you for reading if you did!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Body

Prompt: How do you imagine child Purple reacting the first time they see what Black actually looks like? I just finished Imposter Syndrome and You're Safe Now (I love them!!!) and tiny wholesome Purple is my new favourite person!

I also love me a pure smol 

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: some implied/referenced child abuse but nothing specific and nothing graphic, mild body horror a la canon but it’s just when the impostor’s shifting

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 1978

Black is an Impostor. The ship they've hijacked, the Skeld, comes with an...interesting member. A child, not known by the rest of the human crew, that's now just...here. And yes, children are children and Black will protect them, but they're human. Humans don't like Impostors.

...right?

“Black?”

 Black looks up from the console. Purple is in the co-pilot’s chair, fiddling with a ball they must’ve taken off the drive shaft control. They roll their eyes fondly as Purple rubs their thumbs over the grooves in the ball.

 “Yeah?”

 “You said you could shape-shift, right?”

 Black nods. They shake their head a couple of times as they shift into the human face, smiling at how Purple giggles. Apparently, they look like a dog whenever they do that.

 “Can you…” Purple fiddles with the ball. “What do you actually look like?”

 Black blinks. Purple hasn’t been shy about asking questions, that’s true, but they’ve mostly been asking about the ship.

 ‘What does this button do?’

 ‘Can I help with the wires?’

 ‘Why are there levers over here?’

 ‘How do the engines make us go?’

 That sort of thing. But not about Black.

 Black makes sure the ship’s course is correct and turns to face them. They look up, letting the ball drop to rest in their lap.

 “I look…different,” they try, “I don’t have arms and legs like you, I don’t have a face like this.”

 “So you’re…you’re like a…blob?”

 “Yeah, kind of.” Black shakes their head. “It’s not really—I don’t think there’s an animal that looks like me where you come from.”

 “I watched a documentary once,” Purple mumbles, raising the ball to their mouth, “had these weird blob things in it that liked to eat stuff.”

 “Don’t, I don’t think it’ll taste very good.” Black raises their hand to Purple’s, covering it gently. “What did they look like?”

 “They were really weird, kinda grey and twitchy.” Purple furrows their brow, shakes their head. “They were called am—amb—ambas?”

 “Amoebas?”

 “Yeah, that’s right, amoebas.”

 Black chuckles. “Well, those are very small. I’m much bigger.”

 “So you’re not an amoeba?”

 “No.”

 Purple squints up at them, raising their chubby little hand to Black’s human cheek. They pat it a couple of times.

 “Soft.”

 “Soft?”

 “Yeah. Your—your face is really soft. And pretty. I like it.” Purple’s eyes widen. “Why’s it getting warmer?”

 If this is how I die, I am completely fine with it.

 “I’m blushing,” Black mutters, valiantly ignoring the heat rushing to their face—damned human biology— “that’s it.”

 “Does it hurt?”

 “Does blushing hurt?” They shake their head. “No, I’m alright.”

 “Good. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

 “I don’t think you could if you tried,” Black says as gently as possible, “but thank you, Purple.”

 Purple nods, still running their hand over Black’s face. “But this isn’t your face, it’s your disguise.”

 Black nods. “One of them.”

 “One of them?”

 Black takes their wrist gently and pulls their hand away, letting the helmet reform. “This is another one.”

 Purple’s hand twitches in theirs. “Your voice sounds weird.”

 “Weird?”

 They start trying to tug their hand away. Black lets them go. They start rubbing the ball again. “Like the others.”

 Something cold rips the helmet off and Black smiles. “Better?”

 Purple nods but they don’t make eye contact. “Don’t like the helmets. They make it hard to breathe.”

 Hard to…breathe?

 “Always had to be quiet.”

 Quiet?

 “Are you sure the other crew isn’t coming back?”

 “Yes, Purple,” Black promises, “they’re gone now. It’s just you and me. It’s alright, baby, you’re safe now.”

 Adoration and concern chase each other in circles around Black’s chest as Purple nods to themselves, clutching the ball to their chest. After a moment, they look up and shyly hold their hand out.

 “You wanna come here, baby?” Purple nods and Black opens their arms. “Come here, then, baby, I gotcha.”

 Purple slides off the co-pilot seat and clambers into Black’s lap, still holding the ball to their chest. Black softens the coarse fabric of the suit and wraps an arm around Purple’s waist. Their head comes to rest against Black’s shoulder, their hair rustling against their chin.

 Black’s maw purrs.

 Purple mumbles happily, snuggling closer. “The rumble is back.”

 “The rumble?”

 Purple pats Black’s tummy. “This. Rumble. Means you’re happy, right?”

 “…yes, Purple, it means I’m happy.”

 “What is it? Do you purr? I saw something that says cats purr, are you a cat?” Purple squints up at them, doing a wonderful impression of a scientist examining their hypothesis. “No, if you were a cat it would be higher.”

 Their hands reach up toward Black’s neck and Black leans away, cupping their hand in theirs.

 “Ask, baby,” they remind gently, “you’ll surprise me if I don’t know what’s happening.”

 “Can I feel?”

 “What do you want to feel?”

 “Your neck. If you’re a cat you purr from your neck.”

 “I thought you just said it comes from my tummy.”

 Purple sticks their lip out, thinking. “So you’re not a cat.”

 “No, I’m not a cat.”

 Their fingers curl around Black’s, bringing their hand close and clutching it under their chin like a comfort teddy. Black twists their wrist slightly to stroke their cheek with the pad of their thumb.

 “So what is it?”

 Black sighs. “It’s my maw.”

 “What’s a maw?”

 “It’s like a mouth.”

 “You have a mouth in your tummy?”

 “…this isn’t my real shape, remember,” Black says quietly, “it’s…it’s part of the disguise that doesn’t work completely.”

 “Why not?”

 Black thinks for a moment. How to explain…

 “If you put a mask on,” they decide finally, “or when you put clothes on, your body is still underneath, right?”

 Purple nods. They raise their hand to pat their own tummy. Black covers their hand gently.

 “Looking like this is like I’m wearing something on top of my body. There are going to be parts that aren’t completely hidden.”

 “So your maw is just covered up?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you breathe?”

 Black blinks in surprise. “Can I…breathe?”

 Purple nods, suddenly scrambling at the suit over their tummy. “I don’t—if your mouth is covered it’s hard to breathe, can you—“

 “Whoa, whoa, baby,” Black soothes, catching their hands and holding them still, “easy, I can breathe, slow down, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

 “But your mouth is covered!”

 “Shh, shh, take a deep breath, baby, breathe with me.” Black takes a loud, slow breath through their human mouth. “See? I’m breathing, let’s take some breaths.”

 They place Purple’s hands on their tummy so they can feel it expand and contract. The poor thing’s hands are trembling as they take shaky breaths.

 “There you go, baby, just like that.” Black takes another slow breath. “See? I can breathe, it’s okay.”

 “B-but—“ Purple looks up at them and Black lets out a sound of dismay at the tears on their cheeks— “you—it’s covered.”

 “Do you want me to show you that it’s okay? Okay,” Black soothes as Purple nods frantically, “okay, baby, take one more deep breath for me and I’ll show you.”

 Purple takes a breath as Black moves their hands a little further away from the maw. They relax and let the suit slip enough to fall open.

 Purple gasps as the maw opens, rows and rows of teeth and a long tongue that lolls slightly out. Black rumbles contentedly, shifting Purple’s weight in their lap as the maw purrs.

 “Whoa!”

 “That’s it, baby, see? I can breathe, it’s not a problem.” They rub their thumb across Purple’s cheek. “It’s right there, it’s okay.”

 “You have so many teeth,” Purple mumbles, “can I—is it okay?”

 Well, it’s the first time Black’s had someone willingly put their hand in their maw.

 “Be careful, baby, they’re sharp.”

 “You look like a shark! So many!”

 “A shark?”

 “It’s a big fish. Lives in the water, eats a lot of things.” Purple’s hand carefully traces one of Black’s teeth, the maw still purring. “But they don’t purr.”

 Black chuckles. “No, I would guess not.”

 “Is this what you really look like? You have a m-maw?”

 “Maw, that’s right.”

 “A maw and no arms or legs?”

 “…sort of.”

 “Will you show me the rest of it?” Purple stares up at them. “Please?”

 “You don’t have to beg, baby,” Black says, because how can anyone say no to that face, “I’ll show you. I just don’t want to scare you.”

 “Scare me?”

 “I don’t look like a human, baby,” they say softly, “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

 Purple is quiet for a moment. Then they twist their hands through Black’s and clutch tight.

 “Humans are the scary ones,” they say in a voice that sounds far too old for them, “you’re not.”

 Well.

 “Okay, then,” Black says, carefully lifting them up and settling them back on the co-pilot’s seat, “just stay there for a moment, baby.”

 “Okay.”

 Black steps back and rolls their shoulders. Okay. Okay. They’re gonna do this. They’re gonna willingly show their body to a human. They’re gonna show their body to a human and trust them. Fuck, they’re gonna show their body to a human.

 Something burns in their gut. It’s so old that for a moment they don’t recognize it. It reaches into the tips of their fingers and clenches, locking the fake limbs with a vice grip and it tingles. For a moment, the suit feels heavy.

 Then they grit their teeth and shift.

 Their maw unfurls, still rumbling, as their arms come out properly, churning there on the floor of the bridge. They rear their head up and stretch, letting Purple see them. All of them.

 Purple’s mouth drops open. The ball falls to the floor with a clang.

 “You’re an octopus?”

 Black tilts their head. Purple slides off the chair and takes a step closer. Black draws away, wary of one of their arms accidentally snagging the poor thing or the maw getting too excited, only for Purple to walk all the way up to them and reach out.

 “Can I?”

 A…they…they want to touch Black like this?

 They relax slightly, still swirling about on the floor, as Purple reaches out and carefully runs their hand over one of the arms.

 “You feel cold,” Purple mumbles, “are you cold? Here—“

 And Purple wraps their arms around Black’s middle, not caring about the gaping maw rumbling against their body.

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Purple is so warm.

 Almost unconsciously, Black’s arms start to swirl towards them, making a little nest of arms to cradle Purple to them. They keep a path out in case Purple decides to pull away, but for the most part, it seems Purple is more than happy to curl up, right here, in their arms.

 “You’re not scary,” Purple mumbles, “I like you.”

 The maw purrs, nibbling gently at the borrowed fatigue shirt. Purple giggles. Black rumbles and slowly starts to reform their suit. They keep the human head and nuzzle Purple’s head as they hug them back.

 “Why’d you go back?”

 “There’s no need to look so disappointed,” they laugh, “I just can’t talk to you when I’m like that. Don’t have the right muscles to speak your language.”

 “Oh.” Purple gives them a squeeze anyway. “I like your body. I think it’s cool.”

 Black lets out a rush of breath, warming the top of their head. “I’m…glad.”

 “You looked like an octopus!”

 “What’s an octopus?”

 As Purple begins to explain this creature that—wow, maybe they were wrong, that does sound familiar—they saw in a book once, Black lets their mouth and maw curl up into a smile.

 The ball lies forgotten on the floor of the bridge as Black lets one of their arms out for Purple to clutch under their chin. It becomes their favorite thing to hang onto when the Skeld gets cold.

[hphmmatthewluther]

Pokémon AU, Part 1: Matthew Ventures Forth

(Note: Sorry I haven’t been posting much recently, trying to get my head round being back at school. Will try to post more often again!)

The door of the Sparrow Town Laboratory creaked open, letting in the bright sunlight and a rather tall shadow. It was a beautiful summer’s day, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky (unless you counted the wings of a Swablu, that is). Some of the other Pokémon craned their necks to see the stranger walk in. Professor Lillian Miller noticed that their attention had been caught by something, and, pushing back her flowing, black hair, stood up to see what it was. In front of her stood a teenager with long brown hair. He was taller than her, but the way he was hunched over meant they were around the same height. But it was when Lillian took a closer look at this boy that she began to worry. For she recognised the energy...no, aura, that this boy gave off all too well.

“Um, hello,” the boy began, “Sorry, I-”

But before he could say anything else, Lillian had sprinted away out a back door, leaving the Cutieflies she had been taking notes on looking rather confused. Matthew Luther felt his stomach curl in on itself. It turned out there were worse things to do than say no. He was wondering if they had a policy on age limits. After all, it had been five years (and a few months) since he was meant to get a Pokémon on his tenth birthday. But he hadn’t. And so he had remained in school here in Sparrow Town, feeling utterly isolated. Everyone got their Pokémon when they were ten. Everyone except him, that is. But, somehow, he had worked up the courage to walk across town in the blazing heat to the Pokémon Laboratory to try and ask about the whole thing. He was already starting to regret his decision, but seeing Professor Lillian, the “nice one” of the two Professors who worked here, run away from him, he saw no hope for himself.

Before Matthew could continue down the train of thought he had gone down several times, however, one of the Cutieflies had flown up towards him, fluttering in midair in front of him. It chirped, before spinning around him. Then, another one flew up to him too. “Uhmm...hi...uh...” Matthew stammered as more and more Cutieflies swarmed around his head. Matthew had almost forgotten why he’d come here when he heard a door slam and footsteps march down the stairs. “GET OUT OF IT, YOU YELLOW CRETINS!” the voice yelled, sending them back into their designated area. Matthew gulped, for before him was Professor Atticus Miller. The “grumpy one” was much shorter than Matthew had been expecting, but was scowling at a clipboard in his hands with a face the boy had seen many times in documentaries. He had black hair like his wife, Professor Lillian, but what Matthew really noticed were his eyes. They seemed awfully familiar for some reason.

“Right, ahem.” Professor Atticus cleared his throat, flipping through the papers on his clipboard before stopping on a page with a script on it. “Welcome to the Sparrow Town Pokémon Laboratory. I am Professor Atticus Miller, and it is my privilege to answer any and all questions you have about the wonderful world of Pokémon. How can I help you today?” Matthew took a deep breath. “Okay...um, first of all, huge honour to meet you, your work on Elemental Energies is...groundbreaking...And, um, I was...well, I was wondering if it was...too late for me. To um, to get a Pokémon.” Atticus blinked. This boy, whoever he was, clearly had not got a Pokémon when he was 10. But why on earth did he think he couldn’t get one later? He had seen his wife run out of the room claiming she “wasn’t dealing with that”, but was this what she was so worried about? But as he took a closer look, at his eyes which were strangely similar to his own, he understood. Sort of. It was still quite an overreaction in his opinion, especially for Lillian.

Atticus noticed that Matthew was getting nervous again, and cleared his throat. “W-well, of course not! ” Atticus exclaimed, “You can get a Pokémon at any age after 10, my boy.” But he stopped short of asking him if he would like one. If his theory was correct, he didn’t want to force things a certain way. More to the point, his guest was looking at the Pokémon in the lab and fidgeting with his hands, as if keeping himself from petting them. He had formed a hypothesis that he wanted to test... “O-oh...okay, brilliant!” Matthew said. “S-so, um...if that’s the case then...” he looked up from the ground at Atticus, as if waiting for him to interrupt his constant stammering. But he didn’t. “Is it possible for me to...um...well...you know...get one?” Atticus smiled. He was fairly certain what the boy had been through, after all, he too had got his first Pokémon later than most. “Absolutely. Follow me.”

Atticus led Matthew upstairs into his office. The boy with brown hair couldn’t believe it. He was getting a Pokémon! And the so-called “grumpy one” didn’t seem that bad after all! Nothing could keep him down! At least that was what he thought, for as he entered the office he found a huge ghostly figure looming over him, covering him in darkness. “Leave off, Dusky.” Atticus said nonchalantly, “he’s a friend.” The Dusknoir nodded, gave a small bow, and returned to stacking books. Atticus sat down behind a dark oak desk with various Ivory carvings of Legendary Pokémon as well as maps and books made before Matthew was born. “Sit down, please,” Atticus said, gesturing to a chair made of the same dark oak. “Now, before we get the Pokémon out, I need to ask you a couple of questions. Just a standard procedure, you know?” When Matthew nodded, Atticus pulled out a drawer on his desk. Inside were some sheets and a purple Pokéball with an M on it. Atticus looked up at Matthew and loosened the restraint on the Pokéball, and pulled out the questionnaire, before leaving the drawer ever-so-slightly open.

“Right, away we go: Please state your current gender or genders.” Atticus said. “Male.” Matthew replied. “And your full name?” Atticus asked. “Matthew David Luther.” “Birthday and age?” “Um, the 16th of February, and 15.” Atticus quickly did some mental maths. “You were born...during the Raven Festival, yes?” Matthew nodded. Atticus tried desperately not to look at the ancient script on his desk: “He who was born when the moon shone blue...” “Have you had any previous experience with Pokémon? Any at all?” “Um, my Dad works with a Gurrdurr which I see sometimes, and my mother has a Liepard when I see her. Oh, and there’s the Meowth at the Sparrow Town School.” Atticus nodded. “Have you had any negative experiences with any starter Pokémon which means you would rather not be in front of one?”

Matthew shook his head. Atticus looked up at him. “Have you had any negative experiences involving any Pokémon?” Atticus could see Matthew biting the inside of his teeth. “Um...y-yeah, uh...” “You don’t need to go into detail if you don’t want to, but anything you want to avoid, just let me know.” Matthew sighed heavily. “I, uh...I’d just...prefer nothing...Psychic.” Atticus nodded “A soul kept down by the tampering of the mind”. The words on the script practically glowed at him. “Of course.” Atticus said. “This isn’t a problem at all. I would tell you to be sure not to be...ah, against Psychic-type users, but I’m sure I won’t need to worry about that with you. You seem wise enough to see the stupidity in that.” “Well, yeah of course,” Matthew said, “I mean, just because...a move can be used a certain way...doesn’t mean every Pokémon with that move will use it like that.”

Atticus looked up at him and smiled. Genuinely. “Well said. You’ll make a brilliant Pokémon Trainer.” Matthew’s eyes widened, and his smile grew too. “Y-You mean..” “I do,” said Atticus. “If you go back downstairs I’ll be back with the Starter Pokémon.” “O-oh, alright, thank you, yes!” Matthew said, getting up and side-stepping past the Dusknoir again, leaving the office. Atticus sighed, and pulled the drawer open again. “Thank you, old friend,” he said, holding up the Pokéball. “I sense things are in motion once again.” He clicked the ball shut and put it back in the drawer, before heading out into the back of the laboratory. He wasn’t sure where Lillian had ran off to, but he was confident she would be alright. He knew what sort of Pokémon was protecting her. Atticus returned to the task at hand, and, looking around the laboratory, readied 3 Pokéballs.

Matthew was staring at a Slowpoke when Professor Atticus returned, a tray of 3 Pokéballs in his hands. He placed them on the table in front of him and stood to the side. “Right, now, here’s what I have for you, Mr Luther:” Atticus declared, as all three Pokéballs opened at once. Now on the table was a black-and-red Pokémon with whiskers, a blue and white one which was holding a yellow seashell, and what looked like a sphere of feathers with two green leaves on its front like a bow tie. “So, what’ll it be? The Fire Cat Pokémon Litten, the Sea Otter Pokémon Oshawott, or the Grass Quill Pokémon Rowlet?” Matthew stepped forward and looked at each of the Pokémon. The Litten wasn’t even looking at him, and was more focused on licking its paw. The Oshawott was waving its shell around wildly, making “swash” noises as it did so. And then there was the Rowlet. It turned its face vertically, studying Matthew, before spinning on the spot and cooing gently. Matthew smiled. Rowlet smiled back.

“Alright, I’ve decided.” Matthew said, “I’d like to choose this Rowlet, if that’s okay.” Atticus beamed at him. “Very well. Here’s your Pokédex and a set of Pokéballs too.” The Professor grabbed a device and a bag full of spheres and handed them over to Matthew. Rowlet, clearly having understood the decision, grabbed its own Pokéball by the talons and fluttered towards Matthew. “O-oh, um...you can stay out of your Ball if you want, I-I don’t mind.” Matthew reassured the creature. Rowlet hooted happily in response to this, dropping its own Pokéball into Matthew’s bag. “So then, Matthew, I leave Rowlet in your care.” Atticus said, offering another rare smile, “Good luck, and thank you for looking after them!” “Th-thank you! It’s been amazing meeting you!” Matthew called, as he left the laboratory with Rowlet. Atticus sighed, before collecting the two other Pokémon into their Pokéballs. But something stopped him for a moment. A chill down his spine. Atticus ignored it, and was about to take the Balls away when he heard a voice from inside his head.

Wait, it said, another is coming. Do not return them yet. Atticus scowled. “And how do you know?” I have foreseen it. Someone is coming. Your wife knows them. “Lillian’s involved?” She knows all too well that she cannot escape fate. The boy, Matthew, will send the second trainer here. Atticus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Whatever. Like I care.” Atticus, I can literally see your thoughts. “FINE!” Atticus stormed out of the laboratory and into his office. He stared at the carved figures of the Legendary Pokémon on his desk, hoping for a clue. He got it when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something through the window. In the far distance, darkening the clear blue sky, a conglomeration of clouds.

A storm was brewing. (Lillian Miller was created by the wonderful @camillejeaneshphm​ !)

[gaylotusthatexists]

undesirable

pairing: platonic dlampr ig? focused more on platonic logicality

summary: Logan realises that the others don’t give him physical affection as much as they do for everyone else, and conducts an experiment in order to make himself more ‘desirable’.

trigger warnings: sympathetic janus and remus, touch starvation, negative self talk, please let me know if i need to add anything else

word count: 3233 

a/n: so this idea came to me due to this thread with @5-falsehoods-phonated so i wrote this entire thing in one go last night. logan bby i am sorry. i hope y’all enjoy~

ao3 

Patton hugged him today, for... the first time in a while, Logan was pretty sure. He couldn't remember that last time he was physical with any of the other sides, preferring to keep his distance, not really feeling like he needed it. Studies had shown that physical affection was important in a human's development, and he knew how important physical affection was to Thomas himself, how people... enjoyed it? Logan wasn't human, though - he never really considered that he'd need it, that he'd want it.

Did he want it? It had felt nice, warm, comforting when Patton had hugged him earlier. Why had Patton hugged him again? Patton had been... excited, Logan was pretty sure. He thought that Logan's idea had been good, and in turn given him a hug to display that... happiness? And it hadn't been terrible, Logan supposed. Startling at first, of course, and he hadn't been quite sure on how to respond, wasn't sure what the proper hugging etiquette was. That was kind of concerning - did he really have so little hugs that he didn't even know how to react when someone gave him one? Surely he should know what to do with that. Surely he should have known how much physical touch burned, in a... good way.

He wanted to hug Patton again, but wasn't quite sure how to initiate it. Just asking for a hug would seem uncharacteristic of Logan - Patton would assume something was wrong, which wasn't true, of course, but Logan wouldn't know what to tell him. He'd hugged him after he explained his idea, so maybe just having good ideas was the way to go? But Logan put his ideas forward all the time, and they had never received that kind of response. In fact, it wasn't even his best idea, so...

Logan scooted over to his computer and opened a word document, beginning to type down his ideas for a new experiment. An attempt to figure out how physical affection worked, why it felt so good, and how he was to get it. He felt... stupid, as he typed up his hypothesis, his brain telling him he was pathetic for even wanting that, but his arms were cold and he was desperate to feel that heat again, he needed this.

~*~

Day one. Logan had stayed up late the night before, researching why people formed relationships, what it was about people that made other people want to touch them. He hadn't found any solid advice, nothing real - all just stuff about feelings, things that he didn't, couldn't understand. So instead, he decided to take the day to observe the others in action, figure out what made them initiate hugs or the like. Perhaps if he could document the behaviours and attempt to imitate them, people would find him more 'desirable' to engage with.

He hadn't realised before just how much the others touched each other. It seemed like everywhere he looked, someone was touching another. Roman and Virgil curled up on the sofa watching movies, Patton and Janus making cookies in the kitchen with their shoulders touching. Why was it that whenever Logan did those activities, everyone kept their distance? He occasionally would watch documentaries with Virgil, those David Attenborough ones that Virgil said helped to 'calm' him, but Virgil had never tried to cuddle Logan on those nights. And then when Logan cooked dinner with Patton or Janus, they always stayed on their own side of the kitchen, nowhere near close enough to just casually touch.

That got him thinking - was there something wrong with Logan himself? Was it something about him that just... made the others not want to go near him?

Perhaps Logan needed to change a lot more than just his behaviour, if that was the case.

From his spot on the couch, he looked over at Remus and Janus standing by the stairs, Remus telling some sort of joke. Janus started laughing, and placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. They got closer and closer until they were hugging, and Logan felt... something, deep in his chest. Anger? Sadness?

Jealousy?

No, no, Logan had never been jealous before, had he?

He looked away, glancing into the kitchen. Virgil sat on the side with his legs swinging back and forth, and Patton stood between them, his arms wrapped around Virgil's waist. They looked happy, which just made Logan feel awful. Then he looked at Roman on the sofa with him, shuffled all the way to the other side, eyes fixed on the tv screen, not even thinking about Logan. Which just filled Logan with... rage.

Logan stood up and stormed upstairs, pushing past Remus and Janus and, in doing so, brushing against Remus' hand. He loved it. He wanted to reached down and grip Remus' hand tight, twist their fingers together, but... he couldn't. He ignored the concerned stares from the others as he went into his room, slamming his door shut.

~*~

Logan tried to research more, but all the stuff he could find was on abstract emotions, things that didn't quite make sense and Logan couldn't just do. So, he decided to try a different strategy. From the parts of the research he did understand, he had gathered that people tended to be physical with those they found attractive, so perhaps if Logan made himself appear more attractive, the other sides would be more inclined to perform physical acts with him.

What was it about a person that made them attractive?

Logan tried to think about who he found attractive, but that proved to be difficult. He then tried to think about who Thomas found attractive, but that wasn't much help, as Thomas himself didn't look much like any of his celebrity crushes. Logan supposed he could always shape-shift, but that seemed... wrong, manipulative, like he was tricking the others. No, no, he needed a different approach.

Maybe he needed to be more like what the others found attractive?

Humming, Logan grabbed his recorder and left his room, heading down into the commons. An interview would be a good idea, valuable to his research. Who to interview, though...

Patton was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. None of the others were in sight. Okay, Patton it was.

~*~

Interview One. Date: July Seventeenth. Subject: Patton Sanders.

Uh, do you have to-

The recording is important evidence for my research, Patton.

...okay. What exactly are you researching?

I can't tell you that, or the data may come out false. This needs to be unbiased.

Alright then. Be quick, though. I need to keep an eye on the cooking.

Of course. Question one: on a physical level, what do you find attractive in another person?

...

Answer the question, please, Patton.

Uh, I don't know. Everyone is beautiful in their own way.

Yes, but is there anything specific?

I don't know. I like people who can make me laugh?

...that isn't a physical quality.

Well, the 'physical qualities' don't really matter that much. I mean, I guess there are some people I find prettier than others, but really it's the personality that matters more.

Hmm. Interesting.

Why are you asking this?

I told you before, it's for science.

Do you... need to talk?

No, Patton, I'm-

You look rather pale, are you okay?

I- I think I'll end the interview here.

~*~

That had been a complete waste of time, Logan realised. Personality? How was Logan supposed to change his personality? He could easily make himself more physically attractive, it was fairly simple to alter one's body or change their hair style, or, in Logan's case, shape-shift into the perfect man, but... changing his personality in general was a lot more difficult.

And... it got him thinking, sent his mind to places he'd rather not go. Was he really that undesirable? Just because of the way he was as a person? Did Patton rarely give him affection because he just hated him so much?

Something wet dripped down Logan's cheek. Frowning, he looked up, but saw no signs of a leak or any water above. And he wasn't sweating or anything, so...

Was that a tear? That didn't sound right. Logan had never cried before. And he wasn't sad, was he?

Perhaps he just needed a different test subject. Chances were, Patton was just an anomaly. He must be able to get more concise, useful data somewhere else, right?

~*~

Interview Two. Date: July Eighteenth. Subject: Roman Sanders.

Can we make this quick? Thomas really needs my help with this new video idea-

Of course, I only have a few questions. Firstly: what do you find most important, appearance or personality?

Uhh... that kinda depends? Are we talking about what I look for in a romantic partner?

...sure, if you want to think of it that way.

Well, appearance obviously plays a big part, although if I don't like someone as a person I'm not going to get in a relationship with them, you know?

So, what you're saying is they're... equally important?

Yeah, I guess.

Huh. Alright, second question: what do you find physically attractive in a guy?

Oh! Oh, there's... actually a lot, there. The eyes are what I first look at, usually. And the hair. Oh, and muscles! Big strong lads are great. But not, like, aggressively muscular. Like, a soft side is nice too. Fashion is a big thing as well, I guess. Like, guys in crop tops? Amazing. Tanks tops as well - it's the arms, I think.

Interesting. So... a fit person?

Sure. I mean, it's not super important, but like if someone clearly frequents the gym, they've caught my eye, y'know?

Alright. Thank you. Uh, final question: what do you find attractive in someone's personality, if anything?

...hmm. Well, someone who shares the same interests, I suppose. Y'know, someone I can talk to. Good humour. Confidence.

Confidence?

Yeah. Like, I like it when a person knows what they're doing, when it seems as though they aren't afraid of anything.

Oh.

Is there any reasons for these question?

No, no reason in particular. Just... for science.

~*~

It had been several weeks since his conversation with Roman, during which Logan had been working out every day, using Roman's old gym in the Imagination, mostly running on the treadmill and lifting weights - weights more often, as Roman had stressed the important of arms. He'd also talked to a couple of the others, who had essentially given the same opinions as Roman - in particular, Virgil had gone on about how a sense of style helped, and Remus had explained more about the muscle situation.

Nothing much had seemed to change, though. Logan had attempted to change how he presented himself, even taking off his tie some days in an attempt to make himself look less serious. He had considered investing in some crop tops, but couldn't imagine himself wearing anything not tucked in, so that idea was quickly abandoned. Then he thought about stealing some of Remus' tank tops - and even had, briefly, only to discover that he just looked uncomfortable, plus he had begun to smell like Remus which was certainly less than desirable. He'd even tried walking around shirtless one morning, but that had only earned him a couple of weird stares, confusion, concern.

He'd experimented more and more with his appearance, changing his hair style every few days, wearing different coloured contacts in his eyes, even wearing makeup a few times to see if that did anything. But still nothing. The other sides still kept far, far away from him, just like they always did. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong.

It did occur to him a few times that he could just ask the others to give him a hug. Patton would probably comply, even if it was just out of pity. But then that wouldn't prove anything, wouldn't change anything. And there was always the chance that they'd say no, and... Logan wasn't sure if he could handle that. He already suspected that the others thought he was undesirable, but hearing it would be different. Strange, he'd never been afraid of rejection before.

~*~

Date: August Fifth. Subject: Patton Sanders. Objective: physical affection.

I am aware that this is a bad idea, but it is pivotal to my research that I at least attempt. Worst case scenario, Patton explains that he's too busy, and we never have to speak of this again. Best case scenario, I finally get that 'hug' that I've been... craving? I believe that's the word, although I will make a note here to look it up later. I am now approaching the kitchen, where Patton is preparing dinner alone. My recorder will be placed in my pocket, as holding it may make the experiment more troublesome, I hope the audio will not be too muffled.

Oh, hey Logan!

Good evening, Patton. I'm...

Are you alright?

Yes, of course. I'm just- doing that experiment still, and need more data.

Oh, of course! Do you have more questions? I just put our food in the oven, so I have time to talk if you want to.

Um, it's- I don't really need to ask any more 'questions', per se, just...

...what is it, Logan? You look nervous, do you-

I'm fine. I- [deep breath] Would you be willing to engage in... physical contact, with me? A, uh... y'know-

...are you asking me to hug you?

Yes. If- If that's okay with you. If not, that's fine, but it would helpful for my research. Although I- I can leave, if you want me to, of course. It's- I have enough verbal data to complete the experiment regardless.

...

...

Logan, can I... Can I ask you something, instead?

Uhm, yeah, sure.

What exactly is your experiment about?

...

Logan?

I have to go.

~*~

Logan laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and hugging himself, clutching on tightly to his shoulders. He couldn't stop himself from crying, and he didn't know why, didn't understand what was going on with him. It wasn't as though Patton had rejected him. Just... maybe he was beginning to realise just how stupid this whole experiment was. It wasn't as if he could force the others to like him. He should've just asked in the first place, then... then maybe it wouldn't have gone this far.

He didn't understand what he was doing wrong. He'd tried everything he could think of, but nothing worked. He'd tried every combination of different appearances, tried to act differently around different people - more confident in front of Roman, more sensitive in front of Virgil, more friendly in front of Patton. Still, nothing. Nothing had changed, and nothing was going to change. This had all been a waste.

Logan took out his recorder and listened back to his logs, to the interviews, to his two am rambles, trying to figure out if there was anything that he was missing, any detail he'd forgotten about. Then he moved to his laptop and scrolled through his document, checked through all of his data, all of his calculations, but still couldn't find a single thing wrong. Perhaps he just needed to admit the fact that he was undesirable, unloveable. There was nothing that could change that, nothing that could make him better.

This was fine. It wasn't as if he needed it - he'd gone on this long without it before, he could cope with never having it at all. Couldn't really miss what he'd never had.

~*~

Date: August Seventh. Subject: ...I'm not sure yet. Logan Sanders, possibly? Or everyone. We'll see how this goes. Objective: ...I don't know.

I haven't left my room since the encounter with Patton in my last recording, although have been communicating with the others via text. They have asked me to join them in the commons for a talk. What this is about, I have no idea, but I will record it just in case, for future reference.

...

...

...

Logan!

Good evening, Patton. (I am now sitting down on the couch. All five other sides are here, and they look... concerned?)

What are you doing with that?

I'm just recording this conversation for future reference. You know, the experiment and all.

Yeah, about that. I- We'd like to talk to you about that.

You... would? (Patton seems to be taking charge of the conversation, but the others are all staring at me, intensely.)

I- I did ask the other day and you didn't respond but... what is the experiment about? We're... all a little worried, in all honesty.

(Interesting.) Why are you worried?

... You've been acting weirdly recently, Logan. You have to admit that.

(He's not wrong. That was a fear when I first started the experiment. Perhaps I should start again.)

Logan, can you stop talking to your recorder and just... listen to us? Tell us what's wrong?

There isn't anything wrong. I told you, this is all purely for science.

What's the experiment about?

I... (I'll have to start the experiment over again anyway, as it so clearly failed. New test subjects with therefore be required. Due to this, there is nothing wrong with telling everybody now.) I realised that... out of all six of us, you guys seem to come to me the least for acts of physical affections, if you come to me at all, so I wanted to understand why, and attempt to change myself to better fit to your standards required for wanting to participate in physical relationships with others. I... was attempting to make myself more 'compatible', I guess. More desirable.

...

...Patton?

...

Patton, are you crying? Did I say something wrong?

...Logan, can you turn off the recording?

~*~

Logan sat in the middle of the couch, with the other five surrounding him, engulfing him in a 'cuddle pile', as Patton had called it. It was nice, he decided. Warm. He wasn't quite sure what he was meant to do, but was grateful for the warmth of skin to skin contact, for the safety he felt as the others wrapped their arms around him. Why had he never done this before? Was it that he never wanted to, or... was it that he never asked?

Patton had tried to explain that they all tried to keep their distance from Logan because they thought that was what he wanted, that he'd be uncomfortable with hugs all the time. Logan had tried to explain back that, yes, in the past he hadn't quite understood the appeal of physical affection, but had since began to 'crave' it, to want it more than anything. Patton had asked why he hadn't just asked the others to hug him, and Logan had answered that he didn't know how to ask, or didn't want to sound desperate. Then Patton had reassured him that there was nothing wrong was wanting to be touched, and that he didn't need to be afraid to ask for it if he needed that. He'd told Logan that there was nothing Logan needed to change about himself - they all liked him just the way he was.

The experiment had been... successful, in a roundabout way. He'd achieved physical affection, at least? Although all that research had been for nothing. It wasn't as though he hadn't learned anything, though. He learned that... it was okay to ask, it didn't make him weak or pathetic or desperate. He wasn't undesirable. And the others weren't going to let go.

[ev-pierce-writes]

Testing a Hypothesis

Pairing: Marcus Moreno (We Could Be Heroes) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: teasing, spanking, oral (f receiving), edging, p in v, unprotected sex, gendered language

Note: something about the perversion of having sex with a children’s movie character really grinds my gears. enjoy.

If you could go back in time to figure out exactly what choices you had made to lead to this moment, it would be hard to pinpoint exactly where you'd gone wrong. And yet here you were, dialing the number of one of the earth's greatest heroes, the leader of the Heroics, Marcus Moreno.

There was nothing untoward about this call. The kids you nannied had insisted upon it, wanting to set up a sleepover with Missy Moreno. You stared down at the business card he'd given you and hesitated, thinking about the events that had transpired that day.

Earlier, you had been waiting in the carpool line for school to be released. The two kids you nannied, Annabelle and Anthony, were in sixth grade. You had been picking them up from school for years now and had gotten in the habit of getting there early and sitting in your car, taking a quiet moment to yourself before the chaos that consisted of taking care of twins ensued.

But you were jolted from your relaxation time by a bump on the back of your car. Had someone just rear-ended you? Here in the carpool line? Looking in your rearview mirror, you saw a large figure emerge from a black car behind you. Yep, he'd rear-ended you. Begrudgingly, you stepped out of your car as well.

"Seriously?" you said. "How do you even manage this when the speed limit is zero?"

Instantly, you regretted the obvious annoyance in your voice. The man heading toward you was distressed and already apologizing profusely. If he hadn't been so handsome, you might have continued to berate him, but the kindness of the man's eyes and his unruly hair stopped you in your tracks.

"Did I dent it?" the man asked with worry. Looking at your bumper, there wasn't even a scratch. He hadn't been going that fast anyway.

"No, the car's fine. Don't worry about it," you said.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking worriedly into your face. "I didn't scare you or anything?"

"Really, it's fine. No harm done," you assured him.

The man looked back at your bumper, analyzing it just to be sure. "Let me give you my number anyway, just in case. I'll cover any damage." He pulled a card from his back pocket and scrawled his number on the back before handing it to you.

Glancing at the card, you noticed the name. Marcus Moreno. Wasn't that...?

"You're that superhero aren't you? With the Heroics?"

Marcus laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's me. Apparently, I can wield swords but I can't drive a car."

"Don't worry, we all have our weaknesses," you said, partly trying to ease his concern and partly trying to tease him as well. "Your kid goes to school here?"

"Sixth grade. They grow up so fast. What about yours?"

"Not mine, actually. Just the nanny."

"I thought you looked a bit young," Marcus said with a lopsided grin. Was he flirting with you? You watched as he leaned against his own car, mirroring your movements. Oh yeah, definitely flirting.

"The job got me through college," you admitted, trying to hint that you might be younger but you were certainly still old enough for him. "But I liked it so much I stayed. Now I can't get away."

You did love your job, however challenging it was. Somewhere inside the school, the final bell rang, and moments later, kids came flooding out. Soon, you spotted Annabelle and Anthony and you waved, letting them know where you were. They headed over, chatting and laughing with another little girl. As they approached, she called out to Marcus, and you realized it was his daughter. What a coincidence.

"How was your day?" you asked the twins.

"Fine," they answered in unison, a typical answer for them. "Bye Missy," Annabelle said. "See you Monday."

Marcus turned toward you and stuck out his hand.

"It was nice meeting you," he said. "I'll see you around. And call me if you need anything." Though he meant the car, you thought he'd probably left the invitation open on purpose.

So here you were, standing in the kitchen, staring down at the phone number written on the back of Marcus Moreno's business card. Funny, a superhero with a business card who picks his kid up from school and rear-ends people in the parking lot. Not exactly what you'd expected.

At last, you dialed. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered. "Marcus Moreno speaking."

"Hey, it's Y/N. From the carpool line."

Marcus sounded genuinely happy to hear from you. "Something up with the car?"

"No, actually, the car is still undamaged." You could hear him snicker softly on the other end. You went on. "The kids wanted to have a sleepover and insisted I call you. I know it's sort of last minute, but it is Friday, so I thought it might be okay."

"I guess we could make it work. Give me a second." The other end went silent for a moment before his melodious voice returned. "Their place or mine?"

"Oh, well... I hadn't thought that far. I actually have weekends off, so I'm headed out at six tonight. But their parents will be home. I'm sure they won't mind."

"Sounds good, see you later." The line clicked and Marcus disconnected. Okay, then.

When six rolled around, you packed up your purse, placed dinner on the table, and then headed out the door, saying goodbye to the twins. Annabelle and Anthony's mother was already home and you were able to sneak out without too much commotion. As you closed the door behind you, Marcus's car pulled into the driveway, and both he and Missy stepped out.

"See you later, Dad," Missy said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before running into the house. The two of you were now alone in the driveway.

"Hey again," Marcus said, looking you up and down with a smile.

"Thanks for avoiding my car this time," you said with a laugh.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I'm a bad driver."

"Your words not mine."

It was Marcus's turn to laugh. He turned back toward his car but paused a moment as if he wanted to say something. "Got any weekend plans?"

You shrugged. Was he trying to gauge your availability? "Probably a glass of wine on the couch with this week's crime documentary."

"Would you like some company with that glass of wine?" Marcus asked. Your assumption had been right. When you hesitated, Marcus noticed your reluctance. "I'm sorry, that was a bit forward. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," you replied, reassuringly. Fuck it, you thought, better to spend the weekend with someone than alone, again. "I think I'd like that."

---

Marcus picked you up. He actually drove to your house and picked you up, like this was a date. You'd agreed to go to a bar nearby, and though it was close enough for you to walk, he'd insisted your house was on the way and that he would drive you. You weren't sure how true that was, but you weren't going to deny a free ride.

"Don't crash," you joked. Sure, maybe you were taking this whole bad driver thing a bit too far, but it eased the tension and you liked making Marcus laugh. When you arrived at the bar, he led you to a back table. You noticed he sat with his back to the wall and kept an eye on the front door, real superhero style.

"What would you like?" he asked. You ordered a vodka cran to his whiskey.

"I've never been here before," you mentioned as you waited for your drinks.

Marcus shrugged. "Yeah, most people here tend to be on the older side."

"Oh come one, you can't be that old," you teased. Could he be? Marcus looked a bit sheepish. Maybe he was.

"Not old but... I'll be 46 in the spring."

"Oh, shit," you said involuntarily. Marcus huffed as if to say 'thanks, like I didn't know.'

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's just that- well, you're old enough to be my father."

"You wanna walk home?" he said jokingly. He was starting to ease more into the conversation and you thought he may actually enjoy all the teasing.

"It just means you're mature," you explained.

"Mature is code for old."

"Mature means I can have a real conversation with you and not feel like I'm talking to a teenager." You paused. You wanted to say more but were unsure of what his reaction might be. Fuck it, he was flirting. You knew what he wanted, but more importantly, you knew what you wanted. "Mature also means better in bed."

At your words, Marcus leaned forward on his elbows, swirling the ice around in this glass. "And you know this? Or it's what you believe?"

You weren't expecting that reply. But you liked it. "Just a hypothesis."

Marcus leaned back again. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes told you he was processing what you'd just told him. So you moved on with the conversation, asking him about Missy, about life as a superhero, about life in general. He was open and honest, willing to talk about pretty much anything, though you purposely steered clear of talk about his dead wife. It was no secret that he'd been married before, but something about the mood of the conversation led you to believe he was trying to forget about her.

Though it felt like no time at all, you suddenly realized how tired you actually were. It had been a long day, taking care of kids and running errands. Glancing at your watch, you realized it was almost midnight.

Marcus noticed your movement. "Want me to take you home?"

You hesitated. You were enjoying yourself, but you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the noise of the bar. So in the end, you relented.

As you pulled up to your apartment building, you didn't know what to say. Would he walk you to your door? Did you have the guts to ask? But Marcus killed the engine and gave you your answer. The two of you stood in silence outside your door as you fumbled for your keys. You wanted to say something, but what was there to say? Thanks so much for a wonderful evening. Thanks for flirting with me. No, no it wasn't right.

You managed to get the door open. Now or never. "Do you-"

"I should let you get some sleep," Marcus said, beating you to it. Was this goodnight? But he didn't turn to leave.

For the third time that night, you threw caution to the wind. "Remember my hypothesis?"

Marcus smiled, though unsure where this was going. "Of course."

"There's only one way to test a hypothesis, right?" You hoped he would understand.

And oh boy, did he understand. In two large steps, he was in front of you, taking your face in his hands. God, his hands. They were calloused but gentle and they tangled in your hair and left a searing heat on the back of your neck and--

Fuck. You hadn't even realized your eyes were closed until Marcus spoke. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him, but he wasn't kissing you. Why wasn't he kissing you? 

"We should go inside," he whispered. His voice was suddenly raspier than it had been all evening, and though it was more of a suggestion than a request, you moved obediently, stepping backward as he moved forward, guiding you into the apartment. He slammed the door shut with his foot, hands still behind your head, and then finally, god damn it, finally, he kissed you.

His lips were decadently soft. At first, Marcus was gentle, easing you into an eternal kiss. But you wanted more. You wanted to be closer. Your fingers found the belt loops on the waistband of his jeans and you tugged his hips toward yours. He got the message loud and clear.

His lips began to move against yours, hot and needy, his tongue entering your mouth as you gasped for air. One hand left your hair to wrap around your waist, his fingers curling under the fabric of your shirt to lay flat against the skin of your back. They slid up the curve of your spine to the clasp of your bra and suddenly you felt the snap of elastic release against your skin. Had he just undone your bra one-handed? You didn't even have your shirt off and already he was unraveling you with his fingers.

There was too much fabric between you two. Marcus hadn't even taken off his leather jacket yet. You reached up to his shoulders, ready to slide it off for him when suddenly he pulled away and grabbed your hands. You looked up at him confused, wondering if maybe he wasn't ready for this yet.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

Marcus was breathing heavy, eyes dark with lust. "You wanted someone mature, right? You want mature sex?"

The force behind his words sent your insides tumbling. All you could do was nod, hands still unable to move, imprisoned by his own.

"Okay," he said, his voice deep and husky. "Stop me if you're uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Again, you nodded.

"You're allowed to speak," Marcus teased. "But you need to do as I say."

Oh, fuck. A heat was building between your thighs. What had you gotten yourself into? Slowly, Marcus released your hands from his grip. He took his leather jacket off, himself, and then took a step back, instructing you through your next movements.

"Take off your shirt," Marcus said. His words were soft yet commanding.

Marcus watched as you pulled your shirt over your head. Your bra, which was already undone, went along with it. The air of your apartment wasn't particularly cold, but the shock of sudden exposure left goosebumps on your burning hot skin. You felt your nipples harden under his intense gaze but he didn't reach out to touch you.

"Turn around and take off your pants. Slowly."

He was enjoying himself too much. How had this sweet man, who had treated you so kindly and simply craved the presence of another human, turned so hot and rugged, wanting to tease you with the pain of slowing down. He knew you wanted nothing more than to touch him. And yet he made you wait and watched as you squirmed under his command.

And however painful it was, you did as you were told, unbuttoning your pants, hooking your thumbs into the waistband, and pulling them down slowly, slowly, slowly. You weren't sure if it was what he wanted, but you dragged your underwear down with them, fully revealing the curve of your hips and the contour of your ass. You leaned forward to push your pants down your thighs and past your knees, giving Marcus a full view of your now wet and throbbing pussy, and you heard the audible intake of a breath behind you.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart somehow beat faster than it already was. But it was nice to know you were having as much of an effect on him as he was on you.

Now fully naked, you stood, still turned away from him, unsure of what his next move might be. Without your attention on him, you finally noticed how dark it was in your apartment. You hadn't even turned on any lights, hadn't even moved out of the entryway. The only light came from the open curtains of your living room window where a street lamp cast an orange glow across the couch.

Suddenly, the sound of a slap and a sharp sting spread across the left cheek of your ass and you gasped. Did he just slap you on the butt? Holy shit. The warm tingle spread through your body and you nearly trembled at the feeling. Hold it together. You couldn't fall apart so soon.

Despite the slap, Marcus still held back from touching you, leaving you feeling exposed, nearly whimpering from the desire to be touched. Finally, he placed his hands on your shoulders and slid them down to your wrists, leaving fire in their wake. With one wrist in each hand, he folded your arms behind your back and held them there. The movement forced you to arch your back, thrusting your chest and hips out. It seemed a calculated move to provide him with more access to every curve of your body.

You could feel the heat of his body as he stepped closer, but it wasn't until he pressed his own body against your back that you noticed he was naked as well. With his free hand, he pulled your hair behind your ear to place hot, breathy kisses down your neck. Shivers ran down your spine and your legs trembled in desire. Your pussy was dripping with need, the moist heat beginning to drip down the inside of your thigh.

With all his teasing, a sudden thought popped into your head. You had to ask. He had said you could speak, right?

"Marcus?" You asked. He grunted in response, not moving his mouth from your neck but affirming that he was listening. It was getting hard to talk, but you continued anyway. "Do you- do you have super senses as well? Like hearing?"

"Baby, I can hear you breathe from a mile away."

Interesting. "So, what if I do this?" You turned your head toward his, still at your neck, placing your lips at his ear, and moaned softly. The hand gripping your arms tightened and a deep groan was thrust from Marcus's lips, sending his hot breath across your shoulder.

"You're teasing me now? Don't worry, for that little stunt I'll have you screaming so loud you won't need super senses to hear you from a mile away." Now it was your turn to groan in frustration. You strained against your captive arms, wanting to get at the man pressed behind you, but he was far too strong. At least he was finally touching you. His free hand slid across your stomach and up to your breasts, pinching and twisting each of your nipples until they were aching and tender. The moans he elicited from your mouth were no longer simply to tease; the pleasure was too much to contain. Suddenly, his fingers left your nipples and slid slowly south. You shook with anticipation as he crept towards the heat between your thighs. Gently, one finger teased the crease of your slit, working gradually toward the mound of your clit.

"Spread your legs," Marcus whispered into your ear. As soon as you did what you were told, his finger landed directly on your clit and you nearly jumped at the sensation. You wanted desperately to grab onto him, hold his hand in place, but you could do nothing more than moan in ecstasy as he worked lazily between your thighs. You were sure you could cum soon if he kept going, except he didn't. Marcus stopped, pulling his hand away, leaving you trembling and begging for more.

With a palm placed on the small of your back, he guided you forward, and you stumbled until you reached the couch. You thought he might sit you down, but instead, Marcus leaned you across the couch arm, face in the cushions, ass in the air. You still had no control over your arms, so you could do little about your situation.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?" You could feel Marcus pressed against your ass, his legs between yours, spreading them wider, his cock hard and ready. He was so close, so close to being inside you, and yet he wanted to tease you a bit longer. When your reply came only as a soft whimper from your lips, he leaned over you and ran a finger down your spine. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes, Marcus. Yes, fuck me please."

"Not yet."

Not yet? What did he mean not yet? You wanted to cry at how desperately you needed him inside you. Instead of giving you what you wanted, you suddenly felt his hot tongue dragging up your thigh. He moaned against your trembling skin, licking away the dripping heat that had spilled from your pussy. Slowly, he made his way to your core, taking his time to clean the inside of both of your thighs.

"Baby, you taste so good. You're such a good girl, all nice and wet for me." Good girl. Fuck. It felt so incredibly amazing, but it wasn't what you wanted, what you needed. You couldn't help yourself; you began to beg, beg for him to fuck you like he meant it, beg for him to bury himself inside you. He ignored your pleas and instead spread your pussy lips with his tongue, lapping up your juices like he was dying of thirst, holding your arms in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"That's it, baby girl, grind against my face." You didn't need to be told twice. The sensation was bringing you to the edge. The scruff on his face tickled against your thighs and you wanted desperately to clamp your legs down on his head, tip over the edge, and feel the release of your orgasm. But Marcus wouldn't let you. He held your legs open and continued his rampage as your gasps of pleasure escalated to moans.

"Marcus I- I'm gonna cum," you managed to say. But as soon as your words left your lips, you regretted them. Marcus pulled away, leaving your open and cold and teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You groaned in frustration again. "Please, Marcus, make me cum, I need to cum."

"I love hearing you beg," he said, placing kisses across your shoulder blades and down your back. You could feel him center his hips at your entrance, the tip of his cock just barely nudging into you. You tried to grind your hips against his, needing that sweet relief, but he held you in place with one hand. "I want to hear you scream my name."

He pulled back and then slammed into you, and you did. You screamed his name over and over, with every thrust, every time he hit your g-spot, every time he grunted and groaned with his own pleasure. You tried to press your face into the couch to mute the sound but he wouldn't let you, grabbing your hair in his free hand and pulling your head slightly back, so he could hear every delicious sound that fell from your lips. Your arms were still pinned behind your back, but it made the angle all the better. It wasn't long before his thrusts were pulling you back toward the edge, your walls clenching around his shaft. He felt the shift, felt your orgasm build in your core as he fucked you hard.

"Cum for me baby," he growled. "Be a good girl and cum, now." With his words and one final thrust, you did, shattering into a million pieces with the force of the orgasm that rocked your body. You screamed until your lungs gave out, until you could barely breathe. Though you hadn't been holding yourself up much, you fully collapsed now, the strength in your body gone. Marcus was still holding out, teetering on the edge as well but wanting to ride out every drop of your orgasm until nothing remained.

"Tell me where you want me to cum," he growled through his teeth, unable to hold on much longer.

You wanted him to cum inside you; you wanted to feel him drip out of you all night. So you told him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Marcus, cum inside me, please," you begged. He did love when you begged, after all.

He cursed your name and then came inside you, thrusting his hot seed deep in your cunt and filling you up. He collapsed on top of you, finally releasing your arms, needing both of his to hold himself above you. His throbbing cock remained inside you as he leaned over you and kissed your back, whispering your name in sweet euphoria. The two of you remained like that, warm bodies piled atop one another, for several minutes, heaving in and out to catch your breath.

Finally, he pulled out and stood, helping you up as well so you could sit on the arm of the couch he'd just fucked you over.

You realized that this was the first time you were actually seeing Marcus naked. He had taken you from behind the whole time, but now, you were finally able to place your hands on his smooth chest and wrap your legs around his waist. You pulled him into a kiss and then leaned back, falling backward onto the couch and taking him down with you. In this position, Marcus laid his head on your chest, easing deep into your arms as you stayed wrapped around him. It was a perfect feeling, fulfilling the skin-to-skin contact you knew you both desperately needed. For a moment, you were both quiet, listening to the steady rhythm of one another's breath. Marcus was the first to break the silence.

"So, was your hypothesis correct?"

You laughed. "So far, the evidence is compelling. I may need to conduct some more testing to know for sure, though."

"I think we can arrange that," he said with a smile.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 100 Days - Victor (Day 51 - 100)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

What’s the 100 Days Companionship Event?

Day 1 - 3: here

Day 4 - 30: here

Day 31 - 50: here

Day 51

Tonight, we’ll watch that musical you like. Don’t be late, and dress formally.

Day 52

I’ve seen your report. Its contents aren’t comparable to the supper takeout list from last night. Redo it.

Day 53

A pink apron? You think it suits me?

Day 54

Today, let’s visit that Internet cafe you mentioned - to take a look at what you’ve been pining after.

Day 55

The equestrian facility we went to before has recently opened again. If you’re interested, we can have a look together.

Day 56

There isn’t as disparate a connection between dreams and reality as you think. Dreaming about lions means that you shouldn’t watch animal documentaries before sleeping.

Day 57

It’s okay to use my voice as an alarm clock. But why did you set five of them?

Day 58

I saw you coughing a little during the meeting yesterday. The difference in temperature between day and night has been very large lately. If you have time, come over and have some snow pear soup.

Day 59

The black cat brooch you were wearing isn’t bad. It’s much more suitable than those incomprehensible sports shoes you’re wearing.

Day 60

You’ve been doing well recently. Do you have any plans over the weekend? Or should I plan them?

Day 61

The look you have when you crinkle your eyes to eat pudding - it’s even more Pudding than Pudding.

Day 62

The dogwood perfume sachet is already on the table. The chrysanthemum liquor needs a few more hours. There’s no need to be so impatient.

Day 63

The next time you can’t sleep, there’s no need to leave so many messages of you talking to yourself. Just call me directly.

Day 64

In this weather, don’t even think of having a cold beverage. Pick a hot beverage you want to drink, and I’ll make it for you.

Day 65

You concluded that the reason for your hair loss was work. So staying up late to use your phone is not to blame?

Day 66

If you want to eat something, just say it directly. There’s no need to post hints like “When the weather is cold, one should eat cream stew” on Moments.

Day 67

There are only two more months left to the year. Looks like the proposals you haven’t finished will be delayed till next year.

Day 68 (Halloween)

Title: Masquerade

If you want me to participate in the masquerade with you, just say so directly. There’s no need to beat around the bush. I’ve already received the entrance tickets, and will pick you up tonight.

Day 69

You were clamouring about playing the part of a Rose Witch, but you’ve become a Caught-a-Cold Witch today.

Day 70

The hoarser your voice, the more it expresses want. You have a lot of such worrying habits.

Day 71

It’s not that time doesn’t want to wait for you, but you spend too much time on useless hobbies.

Day 72

Managing your emotions is to allow yourself to mediate your emotions smoothly, not for you to hold everything in, dummy.

Day 73

That winter mountain villa you’ve been hinting at for a long time has started business. There are some themed suites - pick one.

Day 74

Someone usually doesn’t have a large appetite, but when it comes to her favourite foods, she always leaves me awed.

Day 75

Like many other things, there’s a limit to drinking. Being slightly tipsy is best. Don’t get drunk, especially if it’s you.

Day 76

There was a cat sleeping in the claw machine in the market. Even after getting the staff to open the claw machine, it still didn’t wake up. It’s just as nitwitted as you are.

Day 77

Not going to your own place, and even taking up other people’s territory… Looks like Pudding learnt it from you.

Day 78

Don’t buy too many useless items because you’re tempted. Just because there are many discounted items doesn’t mean you need them.

Day 79 (Single’s Day)

If I receive another meaningless message from you such as “Help me slash the price”, the thing that will be slashed could be the funds for your next program.

Day 80

If you have time to reminisce the past, why don’t we do the things you find worth remembering together once more?

Day 81

Refreshing the notifications for your deliveries a hundred times each day won’t make them arrive earlier. But the scheduled sumptuous meal can be brought forward by an hour.

Day 82

I don’t do meaningless hypothesis. If I had never met you? I won’t allow for such ‘if’s to happen..

Day 83

Things that I have decided upon have some leeway of changing. It depends on what you have that is worth exchanging it with.

Day 84

Chanced on the photograph you took with Pudding. Both the person and the cat haven’t changed much. It’s pretty good.

Day 85

Instead of imagining how we’d be like next year, why not spare some time to write a Year 2021 work plan to turn your ideal into reality.

Day 86

You weren’t around when I passed by your office yesterday. But the mess on your office desk surpassed my imagination.

Day 87

The coffee beans you felt were pretty good in terms of taste the last time - I’ve asked someone to bring some back again. Remember to collect it tonight.

Day 88

There’s a new special product in Souvenir today. Are you sure you’re going to keep saying that you haven’t had an appetite these two days?

Day 89

All I did was pinch the nape of your neck. Why are you staring at me like Pudding?

Day 90

It’s the first time I realised that reading comics during working hours can also be termed “gathering source material”. So is chatting with me termed “discussing a collaborative project?”

Day 91

A certain person has been signing in at increasingly later times. The closer one is to the end, the more one can’t slack off.

Day 92

Someone who has only won “one free bottle” a few times is always thinking of trying the lottery - truly indulging in the wildest fantasies.

Day 93

…I just mentioned it yesterday and you’ve won the fifth prize today. It’s truly a dummy’s luck.

Day 94

I might have believed your nonsense of being able to find inspiration while lying down, had you not fallen asleep on the sofa last night.

Day 95

If you have time to write a lengthy plan, why not put the plan to action immediately?

Day 96

Sometimes, I’d take a look at previous sign-ins and recollect the things a dummy has done.

Day 97

You’re usually too tired to even move after exercising for a while. Yet, you run faster than anyone else when collecting take-out.

Day 98

Every one of your so-called surprises tests a person’s psychological tolerance.

Day 99

There’s no need feel troubled that the signing in is about to end. As long as you want to, I can continue this childish game with you.

Day 100

It’s the last day. The next round of company doesn’t require signing in. I’ll always be here.

[sisterofiris]

Greco-Anatolian contacts in Late Bronze Age texts, or: was there a historical Trojan War?

(This is the abridged - though still long - version of a presentation I gave during a seminar. If you’re interested in more details or sources, feel free to message me, or check out the bibliography.)

Did the Trojan War really happen? It’s a hot topic among Classicists, and has become even more so over the last 150 years. Archeological excavations in north-western Turkey, as well as the discovery of Hittite civilisation and decipherment of Hittite cuneiform tablets, have provided apparent support for the existence of Troy and the reality of a conflict over it between Greeks and Trojans. Anyone interested in the subject has probably heard the following evidence:

a large city, corresponding to Homer’s descriptions of Troy in the Iliad, was unearthed at Hisarlık; this city existed for over 3000 years and, most relevantly to our topic, suffered a major destruction around 1180 BC - a date corresponding to the traditional time frame given for the Trojan War (around 1250-1200 BC)

Hittite sources mention a city in the same region - north-western Anatolia - named Wiluša, which strongly parallels (W)ilios, another name for Troy in the Iliad

they also mention another city in the same area, Taruiša, which could be the Hittite equivalent of Greek Troia (Troy)

in a treaty Wiluša concluded with the Hittite empire around 1280 BC, an underground watercourse is mentioned; the archeological site also features an underground watercourse, therefore this site and Wiluša could be one and the same

in the same treaty, the king of Wiluša is identified as Alakšandu, the Hittite spelling of Alexander; this name has been linked to the Trojan prince Paris in the Iliad, who is also known as Alexander

the same treaty refers to a deity named Appaliuna, which can be read as Apollon, a major deity of Troy in the Iliad

Hittite texts speak regularly of the kingdom of Aḫḫiyawa, located in or beyond the Aegean Sea, a term which echoes the name for the Greeks in the Iliad, Akhai(w)oi (Achaeans)

a letter from the Hittite king to the king of Aḫḫiyawa mentions a conflict their lands had over Wiluša

Many people, from Classicists to archeologists to documentary makers, have sought to connect the dots between these elements and answer the question with a yes: there could have been a Trojan War. This is certainly an easy deduction to make. However, many of these argumentations (not all, of course; I’m not throwing everyone under the bus here, but it’s a common trend) present a serious methodological flaw. That is, they take what I like to call a “murder mystery” approach.

The “murder mystery” starts with a question: did the Trojan War happen? Arguments in favour of and against it are then sought out in the available sources. Since many arguments in favour of it are found, it’s assumed that the original question can be answered positively: the Trojan War could have happened (or, as less critical people affirm, did happen). The problem with this approach is that it treats a fictional account (Homer’s Iliad) as a hypothesis to be proven or disproven. But an epic isn’t a corpse in a mansion to be investigated until the culprit is found; it’s not even an eyewitness account. Even just treating it as something that can be proven is being biased in favour of it being at least somewhat trustworthy. Using the Iliad as a starting point also gives the central role to a narrative written 500 years after the supposed events, while sources contemporary to those events are treated as supporting evidence - not as the subject we should be delving into in the first place.

So what should be done? We cannot discuss the historicity of the Trojan War without tackling, well, the history surrounding it. In other words, and this may seem counter-productive: we need to forget about the Trojan War, to establish instead a general picture of Late Bronze Age contacts between Greeks and Anatolians along the Anatolian coast, and especially around Wiluša. Only once we have put the above “evidence” back into its context will we be able to discuss the Iliad.

So here we go - let’s use Hittite sources to find out how Greeks and Anatolians interacted in the Late Bronze Age. What kind of presence did the Greeks have on the Anatolian coast? Were western Anatolians always Hittite allies? What was the ethnicity of Wiluša’s inhabitants? Did Greeks and Hittites ever do battle? It’s all under the cut.

Setting the scene

Before we build our puzzle and see if the Trojan War piece fits into it, we need to confirm that we’ve actually got the right puzzle. This requires four proofs:

That the archeological site at Hisarlık was called Wiluša in Hittite sources;

That this site fits Homer’s description of Troy;

That Wiluša and Taruiša are the Hittite equivalents of (W)ilios and Troia;

And that the Hittites knew and interacted with the Greeks.

I won’t go into too much detail here, as these questions have been extensively discussed over the last century (if you’re curious to know more, see the bibliography). Nowadays, most experts agree that all four are likely true. While Hittite geography is still debated in many areas, the localisation of Wiluša is close to certain thanks to campaign routes detailed in royal annals, combined with archeological data from western Anatolia. Unfortunately, no written texts (except for one seal) were found at Hisarlık, which could have given definite proof of the site being Wiluša - but it’s still highly likely. Meanwhile, the Iliad contains enough geographical and topographical descriptions that its setting can be narrowed down to a very specific area, which also happens to coincide with the site at Hisarlık.

Linguistically, Wiluša being the equivalent of (W)ilios - attested in the Iliad as Ilios, but the presence of an initial digamma (w sound) is proven by the word’s metric rhythm - and Taruiša being the equivalent of Troia is perfectly plausible. So is Aḫḫiyawa for Akhai(w)oi (same as (W)ilios; the term is attested as Akhaioi but had to originally contain a digamma). The localisation of Aḫḫiyawa in or beyond the Aegean Sea, and its obvious might in Hittite texts echoing the mighty archeological sites of Late Bronze Age Greece, confirm this further. As one of my professors once said: either Aḫḫiyawa was not Greece, which would mean one powerful kingdom (Aḫḫiyawa) left traces in Hittite texts but none in the archeological record, while another (Greece) left archeological traces but no written ones... or Aḫḫiyawa was Greece, and therefore the Hittites knew the Greeks.

It should be pointed out that we don’t know if Aḫḫiyawa referred to all of Greece, or just to a part of it. Was it the Aegean islands? Pylos? Mycenae? The whole Peloponnese? Linear B texts found at Bronze Age archeological sites in Greece don’t give enough information about the political structure of the time for us to be sure. It’s clear that each city-state was governed by a king, or wanax, but we don’t know if the Hittites were only in contact with one of those kings (which would make Aḫḫiyawa a small, local kingdom) or if all city-states belonged, temporarily or permanently, to a coalition ruled by an overlord (who would be the “king of Aḫḫiyawa” mentioned in Hittite texts). Considering how uniform Late Bronze Age Greek culture was, how similar its archeological sites are and how the dialect in all Linear B tablets is identical, and considering how the king of Aḫḫiyawa was powerful enough for the Hittite king to view him as an equal, I would lean towards the coalition hypothesis - but this is yet to be proven.

The early 14th century: a Greek sword and a Hittite vassal

Let’s begin our study with the first text in which Wiluša is mentioned. This would be the Annals of Tudḫaliya I/II (we’re not sure if he was the first or the second Hittite king named Tudḫaliya), in which he describes a campaign he led against north-western Anatolia. Several city-states there, including Wiluša and Taruiša, had joined into an anti-Hittite coalition known as the Aššuwa coalition - Aššuwa being the name of the region. Tudḫaliya defeated them in battle and returned to the Hittite capital, Ḫattuša, along with spoils and captives. One of the spoils from this campaign was found in an archeological dig: it’s a sword in the Late Bronze Age Greek style.

It’s hard to determine whether the sword was forged and used by a Greek person, or whether it was an Anatolian imitation, but either way, it shows that north-western Anatolia was in contact with Greece. Moreover, it would imply that both peoples were on good terms. At the very least, they were trading partners; at most, Greeks and Anatolians - including Trojans - may have fought against Tudḫaliya together. The presence of Greeks in the area is confirmed by a much later letter, which mentions a marriage alliance between Greeks and Anatolians during this period. Could it have been in Wiluša? Did Greek and Trojan royalty intermarry? The letter in question is fragmentary, so we can’t know for certain, but as we will see later on, this hypothesis is not at all far-fetched.

But not all contact was positive. The Indictment of Madduwatta, a slightly later text, stars a Hittite vassal king named Madduwatta who ruled somewhere in south-western Anatolia (we’re not sure where, exactly) and who got into conflict with a Greek nobleman. This man, Attariššiya, tried to kill Madduwatta multiple times, to the point that Madduwatta had to ask the Hittite king for help. Most interesting is the mention of a battle between Attariššiya’s forces and the Hittite king’s, in which one general from each side was killed.

So here we have evidence of an actual, armed conflict between Greeks and Hittites. However, this was not part of an “official” Greek conquest. Attariššiya is only identified as a “man of Aḫḫiyawa”, not a king, so his interests in Anatolia were probably personal and had nothing to do with "official” policy (though he may have had unofficial support from the Greek king). He may have wanted to secure a trading post or even set up a colony; archeological evidence shows that Greeks had been present all along the coast of Anatolia since the 15th century at least, mostly trading but also settling permanently. Attariššiya’s strategy was also clearly opportunistic, as was Madduwatta’s, since they later put their past arguments aside to raid Cyprus together (much to the horror of the Hittite king).

These two instances show that Greeks were interested in Anatolia in the 14th century, and tried to secure a foothold there through whatever opportunities presented themselves - marriage alliances, raids, or battles. Likely aware of the threat the Hittites posed, they were vested in getting them out of the area. This meant that, on various occasions, Greeks allied themselves with western Anatolians... and, possibly, with Trojans.

The late 14th century: a Milesian war and a Greek deity

This strategy continued through the 14th century, leading us to a western Anatolian king named Uḫḫa-ziti. Uḫḫa-ziti ruled over Apaša, later known as Ephesus, but seems to have had power over a large area which also included Millawanda, later Miletus. In the early reign of the Hittite king Muršili II, Uḫḫa-ziti allied himself with the Greek king and handed Miletus over to him. Miletus already had a large Greek population - in fact, it was the most Greek city of western Anatolia - so this decision may well have been a welcome one for the Milesians. Muršili, however, wasn’t so pleased.

In his Annals, he describes how he sent his army against Miletus and utterly destroyed the city. (This destruction can also be seen in the archeological record.) Meanwhile, Uḫḫa-ziti had taken refuge in the Greek islands, likely under the protection of the Greek king, where he finally died. This may have been the extent of the Greek king’s help, since his official troops do not seem to have taken part in the war. While Milesian Greeks most likely fought the Hittites, and other Greeks may have independently joined the cause, the war in Miletus was ultimately between Hittites and western Anatolians.

Still, this was a major defeat for the Greeks, who saw the city with the strongest Greek presence, Miletus, conquered by the Hittites. The message was clear: western Anatolia belonged to the Hittites, so the Greeks duly suspended their expansion efforts in the area. This led to more positive interactions with the Hittites, to the point that, when Muršili fell sick, the statue of a deity from Lazpa (Lesbos) and another from Greece were brought in to heal him. Maybe Greeks and Hittites could get along after all?

The early 13th century: Wiluša takes centre stage

Muršili’s conquests in western Anatolia ushered in a new age, featuring more contacts with Greece than ever. Some of those are explicitly attested - the 13th century has more mentions of Greece in Hittite texts than any other - but others were implicit. This is the case for the aforementioned Hittite treaty with Alakšandu of Wiluša. In the historical introduction to the treaty, Wiluša is described as having always been favourable to the Hittites, taking their side and supporting them even when the city belonged officially to another kingdom. According to this treaty, Wiluša would have had stronger links with the Hittites than with anyone else.

And yet the king’s name was Alakšandu - very, very obviously the Greek name Alexander. For him to have a Greek name, there had to be a strong Greek presence in the area. Could this be the result of the 14th century marriage alliance? If so, then there had been Greek blood in the Trojan royal family for over a hundred years. And even if not, there was undoubtedly some kind of Greek element in Alakšandu’s family.

This is further confirmed by the appearance of the deity Appaliuna, probably Apollon, in the treaty. The origin of Apollon is debated, and many scholars view him as an originally Anatolian deity. Either way, for him to appear both in Bronze Age Anatolia and in later Greece, he had to have travelled either from East to West, or from West to East across the Aegean Sea - and this required contacts between Greeks and Anatolians. Hence the question: was Wiluša really closer to the Hittites than to Greece, or was this royal propaganda to minimise the Greek presence in the area?

The 13th century also saw the rise in power of Greece. Miletus may have been given back to them under Muršili II’s successor, maybe in an effort to pacify relations between Greeks and Hittites, now both among the greatest powers of the time. Ḫattušili III, who ruled in the mid-13th century, implies that Miletus belonged to Greece in a letter known as the Tawagalawa letter, concerned with a renegade who had taken refuge in Miletus. Since the city was owned by the Greek king, Ḫattušili had to write to him to ask for the renegade to be extradited. The same letter features the most famous quote about our topic:

The king of Ḫatti, regarding the matter of the city of Wiluša over which we became hostile, has convinced me regarding that matter. We have made peace. Now hostility is no longer right between us.

This is the only mention, in the entirety of Hittite sources, about a conflict that directly opposed the Greek king and the Hittite king. But was it a war - or just a political disagreement, solved through diplomacy? Other disagreements between both kings are recorded, including one over some Aegean islands and to which kingdom they belonged. And even if there was a war over Wiluša, did it really happen in the mid-13th century, or was Ḫattušili referring to a much earlier event?

Unfortunately we don’t have answers. What we can say is that this conflict parallels the treaty with Alakšandu: both the Hittites and the Greeks were interested in Wiluša, and both sides may well have believed the city belonged to them. They certainly had good reason to invest their efforts there. Wiluša, being located at the mouth of the Dardanelles, controlled the trade routes to the Black Sea, and for two expanding kingdoms, the prospect of trade in that area must have been very attractive indeed.

The late 13th and early 12th century: the end of an era

The return of Miletus to the Greeks gave them a foothold in western Anatolia and coincided with a rise in their power. But at the same time, the Hittite presence in the area was slowly becoming more permanent, and in the late 13th century, the Hittite king managed to acquire Miletus again. From then on, he no longer considered the Greek king as an equal.

It’s very hard to tell what happened afterwards. No mentions of Greece survive in Hittite texts from the turn of the 13th century, and Hittite civilisation was destroyed within the first decade of the 12th century. Our only source for these final years comes from Linear B tablets found in Greece. These tablets, preserved by fire when the palaces where they were stored burned down, were not meant to be permanent: they only recorded lists of goods and personnel that had entered the palaces in the last few months before their destruction. Several of these tablets listed women from western Anatolian localities, and one group specifically is identified as “women from Aswiya”. Aswiya has been interpreted as the Greek name for Aššuwa - the region where Wiluša was located. (Incidentally, it may also very well be the origin of our word “Asia”.)

This tablet would indicate that the Greeks were still active in the region, either participating in slave trade or conducting raids and bringing back captives. It also gives us an idea of what goods they might have sought out in western Anatolia. Very few Anatolian objects were found at Late Bronze Age Greek sites, but the Linear B tablets could point towards imported goods being of a more perishable nature - that is, human workers, and since the women were most likely involved in weaving, textiles. These imports seem to have been ongoing right up until Greek civilisation itself came to an end, in the first couple of decades of the 12th century.

Back to the Trojan War

That was a lot of information, so let’s summarise. Greeks and Hittites interacted over the course of three centuries in the Late Bronze Age, as both civilisations were interested in securing a foothold in western Anatolia. While Hittite sources paint the region as always having been favourable towards the Hittites, reading between the lines shows that western Anatolians also had strong, often positive links to Greece. This was the case in Miletus, which had a sizeable Greek population, as well as in Troy, where the royal family itself had Greek ties.

The Greek strategy in western Anatolia was clearly opportunistic. Footholds were gained through raids and alliances with local kings - whatever suited the Greeks best at that moment - and outright war with the Hittites seems to have been avoided, for the most part. Once the Greek king acquired Miletus, he was considered equal to the Hittite king, but this changed with the Hittite re-conquest of Miletus after which Greco-Hittite relations ended abruptly and negatively. The Greeks, however, did not give up on western Anatolia until their own civilisation collapsed, at the end of the Bronze Age.

So what about the Trojan War in all this? It’s clear that the Iliad preserves the memory of the Late Bronze Age, between its city named (W)ilios/Troy, its Greeks wearing boar’s tusk helmets (discovered in Bronze Age Greek graves), its Trojan prince named Alexander, and its Greek kings using the ancient title wanax. Could the war itself have been based on a real event, too?

Currently, scholars are divided between two main hypotheses. The first is that there truly was a war over Troy opposing Greeks and Anatolians. This may have been the conflict that Ḫattušili III mentions in his letter to the Greek king, which would place the war at around 1250 BC. Alternatively, one could attribute the violent destruction of Troy around 1180 BC, attested in the archeological record, to the Greeks - perhaps as a last resort after having lost Miletus. The problem with this latter theory is that Greek civilisation itself was being destroyed by 1180: both Mycenae and Pylos, two major sites, went up in flames between 1190 and 1180. If the Greeks did attack Troy around that time, it would have been part of a migration seeking to establish themselves elsewhere, not as a concerted, strategic effort to expand an already dying kingdom.

The second main hypothesis is that the Iliad was inspired not by a single event, but by the many conflicts that opposed Greeks and Anatolians along the coast during the Late Bronze Age. The Trojan War may even have been a cross-cultural trope: a Hittite text quotes a song in Luwian (one of the languages of western Anatolia) about Wiluša. So both Greeks and western Anatolians may well have sung stories about Troy, and about wars against each other, eventually combining them into a single epic we know as the Iliad.

Conclusion: war... and peace?

The possibility of a cross-cultural Iliad, shaped by centuries of Greco-Anatolian contacts, leads us to the question of positive interactions between those peoples. This topic is just as significant as it is under-studied. Since most people are interested in the historicity of the Trojan War, many studies have focused on conflicts in the area, but as we have seen, Greeks and western Anatolians didn’t just fight; they were often trading partners, and even allies. Hittite sources depict western Anatolians, including Trojans, as having always been on the Hittite side, but this may not reflect reality so much as a pro-Hittite, anti-Greek bias - since Hittite relations with Greece were often tense.

(Side note: our bias towards viewing Greeks and Anatolians as enemies is also due to the way we’ve opposed Western civilisations to Eastern ones ever since Herodotus’ Histories. Most of my current research focuses on how Greeks and Anatolians interacted and saw each other before the Persian Wars, and it turns out relations were a lot more positive than you’d expect. Even in Archaic times, Lydians, Lycians, Carians and the rest weren’t “Eastern barbarians” - they were major trading partners, fashionable ladies, neighbours across the street, and even, in some cases, Mum or Dad. But I digress. Back to the Bronze Age.)

These positive interactions between Greeks and western Anatolians are also reflected in the Iliad. The Trojans aren’t depicted as barbarian foreigners, but as a people strikingly similar to the Greeks, who speak the same language and worship the same Gods. Many Greek heroes also have links to Anatolia, and vice versa: see, for example, the exchange between Diomedes and Glaucus in Book 6. The Iliad may even contain echoes of Hittite culture, such as Patroclus’ funeral which is strikingly similar to royal Hittite burial rites, or the name of king Telephos which has been linked to the Hittite name Telepinu.

In fact, Greek mythology in general is rife with Anatolian elements. There is enough material on the topic to write an entire book, so I won’t delve into it here, but suffice to say that Greek culture soaked up external influences like a sponge. Until recently, this was thought to be the result of the Orientalising period (8th-6th century BC), but it seems more and more likely that this cultural exchange dates back to a far earlier time.

So was there a Trojan War? There could have been - but maybe that’s not the right question to ask. Maybe we should be looking, instead, into a Trojan Ambiguous Relationship motivated by several centuries of shifting political alliances along the western Anatolian coast, and leading to significant cultural exchange. Or even - who knows - a Trojan Peace.

Bibliography

Bachvarova M., From Hittite to Homer: The Anatolian Background of Ancient Greek Epic, Cambridge 2016.

Beckman G., Hittite Diplomatic Texts, Atlanta 1996.

Beckman G., Bryce T., Cline E., The Ahhiyawa Texts, Atlanta 2011.

Bryce T., « The Nature of Mycenaean Involvement in Western Anatolia », Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 38 (1989), 1-21.

Bryce T., The Kingdom of the Hittites, Oxford 2005.

Cline E., The Trojan War: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford 2013.

Cline E., 1177 B.C.: The Year Civilisation Collapsed, Princeton 2014.

Collins B. J., Bachvarova M., Rutherford I. (ed.), Anatolian Interfaces: Hittites, Greeks and their Neighbours, Oxford 2008.

Güterbock H., « The Hittites and the Aegean World: Part 1. The Ahhiyawa problem reconsidered », American Journal of Archeology 87 (1983), 133-138.

Kraft J., Rapp G., Kayan İ., J. Luce, « Harbor areas at ancient Troy: sedimentology and geomorphology complement Homer’s Iliad », Geology 31/2 (2003), pp. 163-166.

Kraft J., Kayan İ., Brückner H., Rapp G., « Sedimentary facies patterns and the interpretation of paleogeographies of ancient Troia », in: Wagner G., Pernicka E., Uerpmann H. P. (ed.), Troia and the Troad. Natural Science in Archaeology, Berlin/Heidelberg 2003, pp. 361-377.

Latacz J., Troia und Homer: Der Weg zur Lösung eines alten Rätsels, Stuttgart 2001.

Mellink M., « The Hittites and the Aegean World: Part 2. Archeological comments on Ahhiyawa-Achaians », American Journal of Archeology 87 (1983), 138-141.

[autumnblogs]

Day 9: Troll Time

Time to get trolled.

https://homestuck.com/story/1527

This is the first of the events that I’ve noticed enough to talk about in Homestuck that alludes to the Alpha Kids. While Roxy on the other side of the scratch is the one actually responsible for the disappearance of Jaspers and the Pumpkins, at this point in the story, we have some pretty good suspects for exactly who disappeared both of them.

I could see myself guessing that Jade’s penpal is one of the trolls, but it wouldn’t be my first guess. I’m going to pay close attention to all of the events on one side of the scratch that are caused by the other side of the scratch, because my theory is that a Scratched Universe, more than anything else, is really terminated rather than truly being retroactively erased. Too much doesn’t make sense from a causal perspective (not necessarily from a temporally linear one) if a scratched universe is actually erased entirely, or even if it is closed off from the rest of existence - why can information enter and leave a Scratched Universe at all from an outside perspective, for example?

Are Side A Side B teleporters, appearifiers, and so on and so on, loopholes? Maybe it has something to do with the nature of Void, the Furthest Ring, and their seeming exclusion from the rules the rest of Paradox Space is required to follow.

The Doylist answer, which in Homestuck is also allowed to be the Watsonian answer, might be that while a Scratched Universe is *materially* erased, information about it is still permitted to propagate through narrative contrivances such as the author. Fenestrated planes can easily be considered narrative contrivances, but if we use this as our theory, it seems like Appearifiers and Sendificators would also have to be Narrative Contrivances (which I’m going to spell with a capital NC from here on out.) I... actually don’t have a problem with this hypothesis, so it’s what I’m going with. Also, since a friend of mine who’s reading this liveblog asked, I’m going to post a link to the tvtropes article on those two terms at the start of this paragraph for anyone who doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

Perhaps, given the proclivity for the Void to preserve lost information in the form of dreams and memories, and given the nature of Space as the medium through which events normally propagate (as well as the fundamental medium of storytelling from which all other storytelling mediums derive their medium-ness), and their proximity on the Aspect Wheel, Narrative Contrivances are objects which have are shared between these two domains - as objects associated with the Void, Narrative Contrivances are permitted to follow their own set of rules which to someone outside of the universe are obvious, but to anyone inside the universe are a complete black box, and as objects associated with Space, Narrative Contrivances function as a means by which to propagate information in such a way as to preserve causality, the logical topology of Paradox Space, and with them, the self-fulfilling nature of Paradox Space. They allow the world-line of objects travelling through the narrative to remain consistent, even when they would violate material geographical conventions.

This description of Narrative Contrivances makes me think a lot of things could be Narrative Contrivances, like First Guardians, for example, who can violate the speed of light.

This is all a lot of silly bullshit, but it’s fun to come up with theories to describe and predict Homestuck (and future Homestuck works, even though I’m not terribly invested in them.)

This has been a long Cold Open. More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/1529

John gets cyberbullied!

Man. Cyberbullying has really gone from being an individual concern to being an apocalyptic issue. Who knew? Maybe in writing the trolls and their cyberbullying as being inextricable from the apocalypse, Andrew Hussie predicted this.

I’m not trying to understate John’s issues by comparing them to stuff like massive social media disinformation campaigns - receiving Death Threats as a thirteen year old is terrifying, and on a general level, the fact that this kind of horrible shit was commonplace in the earliest days of social media should have been a big indicator that what was yet to come was going to be so, so much worse.

I’m also not trying to jocularly exaggerate the threat that almost completely lawless social media has on society. If you haven’t already, check out the excellent documentary The Social Dilemma, and then delete your Facebook account if you haven’t already (and since you’re reading my extremely anti-capitalist anti-patriarchy liveblog on tumblr, you’ve probably already done that. If you have, good for you!) And your twitter for good measure, come on, you know who you are. Mabe your tumblr too while you’re at it.

Cyberbullying is part of a larger theme in Homestuck, another one of those things that it’s Capital A About. As a work that is not only about growing up, but specifically about growing up in the information age, Homestuck is repeatedly about the ways that Social Media don’t just bring us together, but keep us apart from one another. Cyberbullying is one of the effects of Social Media pushing people apart - it’s so, so much easier to threaten to kill someone when you don’t have to look them in the eye while you’re doing it, and when you have the anonymity of a string of alphanumeric characters as a name to hide behind.

https://homestuck.com/story/1537

The Black Queen is a very bad woman. It’s always intrigued me that the Queens allow their counterparts’ agents free movement through their territory like this even on the eve (or the advent?) of full-scale war between their kingdoms. PM is just allowed to wander around Derse unsupervised.

I suppose that if even God and Satan can afford each other a bit of token civility while discussing the fates of sinners, so can Prospitians and Dersites.

https://homestuck.com/story/1542

@zeetheus​ John’s definitely proceeds Rose’s bluh.

Rose sips her Mom’s martini for the same reason that she later falls prey to alcoholism. Trying to grow up without help, Rose interprets the martini as a symbol of parental authority, the same way that she interprets the partaking of beverages in general as being a ritual of intimacy with her Mother. Empty signifiers.

https://homestuck.com/story/1549

Jack Noir’s grating voice is so outrageously distracting that it prevents itself as an intrusive thought in the Narrative for PM.

Actually, come to think of it, *all* of the Carapacians talk pretty much exclusively via narration. I wonder if that’s representative of an altered relationship with their narrative reality, which is the first time ever I’ve had that thought pretty much at all.

I always just chalked it up to one of the quirks of Andrew’s writing style, but especially when we take into account the fact that Homestuck is as metanarrative as it is, and that Carapacians are the only characters in Homestuck Proper who interface with the narrative prompt except for the audience, Andrew, and Caliborn himself, I can’t help but wonder. Maybe as living gaming abstractions, in spite of their limited intelligence and abilities, Carapacians have a unique relationship with the narrative laws of Paradox Space (perhaps in the same way that Narrative Contrivances do?)

https://homestuck.com/story/1569

Riffing a little more on the “Fetch Modus as analogous to thought processes” motif previously introduced, Jade’s excellent visualization abilities and vivid imagination serve her well as a Space Player, but tend to misfire, running wild, and seeing patterns where they don’t exist (intrusive thoughts make her see Johnny 5 in her Eclectic Bass and whatever the fuck mecha she’s about to accidentally imagine, I don’t know, I’m not a weeb.) Jade sure does think about robots a lot.

https://homestuck.com/story/1579

I have to say, I consider Terezi’s manipulative abilities to be genuinely pretty strong. I have never known a better way to strongarm me than by pointing out traits that I don’t know whether I feel good or bad about - it just terminates my thought processes.

Although in John’s case, it helps that he is, in fact, a weenie, a stooge, and most importantly, a nice guy. All these facts make him extra manipulatable.

https://homestuck.com/story/1584

<3

I have no reason to believe everyone in Homestuck’s universe isn’t stupidly badass, but I choose to believe that no one is as stupidly badass as the leads because it makes me happy to imagine that these kids are just ridiculously OP superhumans.

(That said, it’s kind of fucked up the level of violence that these literal children are involved in, maybe I shouldn’t get so excited about it. Should we be enthusiastic about the kids’ triumph over their dangerous enemies? Horrified by the travails they are being put through? Probably both motherfuckin’ things.

https://homestuck.com/story/1588

I think about this page a lot.

Rose Lalonde is a very dangerous young lady. She is ruthless, pragmatic, calculating, and cool. She’s even a killer, and literally just killed two imps before fighting this Ogre!

Why is she choosing to show mercy to it now? Is she just trying to get Dave’s goat? Maybe the answer is, deep down, she doesn’t really want to hurt anyone or anything.

https://homestuck.com/story/1589

Kanaya and Dave have a great relationship and I love them as friends very much. I wish dearly that there was more of them in the webcomic. They have approximately the same relationship with authenticity, which is to say that they don’t have an insincere bone in their respective bodies, but practice insincerity nonetheless to impress someone they care about.

For Kanaya relating to Rose, I think it’s a lot more innocent.

https://homestuck.com/story/1590

The least eloquent character in Homestuck has his brief, and I’m pretty sure only encounter with the most eloquent character in Homestuck.

Poor, poor Tavros. While Rose is pretty much always on this level, it seems a lot more innocuous when she’s talking to her friends, or the more mean-spirited and (relatively) competent trolls, the way she treats Tavros almost feels like bullying because of how obviously pathetic he is.

That said, he turns right around, and invokes exactly what’s coming to him. Y’know as much as Tavros is an authentic abuse victim and Vriska gaslights him into thinking a lot of the bad things that happen to him are his fault, there are a lot of times where he does stupid shit that invokes the justifiable wrath of the people around him.

https://homestuck.com/story/1592

While I could pontificate about the fact that Kanaya and Rose are my favorite couple, and squee enthusiastically, instead I will call attention to the fact that, by way of mixing her metaphors, Kanaya has been the victim of an authorial pun - she’s a Fruit Ninja. (Unless Fruit Ninja didn’t exist at the time of writing? It may very well not have.)

https://homestuck.com/story/1596

As the Page of Breath, Tavros sucks at communicating. Here, he sucks at communicating because in spite of his objectively pretty sick rhymes... he is talking to someone who just can’t be arsed.

https://homestuck.com/story/1602

This is one of those absurd moments that at first blush seems meaningless, but I think helps to decipher the kinds of things that John Egbert cares about. It’s one of the moments where he ritualizes an action that one of his heroes takes - John Egbert thinks that Nic Cage is cool, and wants to be like him, so he roleplays Nic Cage for a little while.

https://homestuck.com/story/1603

We’ve barely met the trolls, and they are *already* using the humans as a convenient method to troll each other instead of staying on task.

Karkat also establishes his love of RomComs before his introduction even rolls around.

https://homestuck.com/story/1618

Conceding ground to implacable enemies is generally the correct means to win in Homestuck, usually by getting them to destroy themselves or each other purely by their own unsustainably wicked or stupid conduct. Only a being as powerful as Lord English is sufficient to destroy the Significance-hoarding antagonist that is Vriska, as she threatens to overshadow everyone else in the universe by her own inflated self-importance. Only Vriska, so arbitrarily lucky, could possibly get into position to destroy Lord English. They were made for each other. They deserve each other.

One of my favorite dialogues in the whole comic. Man, I sure love Act 4. There’s something indescribable about the dialogue Andrew writes for this part of the comic. Homestuck at its best whiplashes from silly to scary to heartbreaking to heartwarming, and back to silly again, from beautiful to ugly, and I don’t think that even Act 5, as it piles up layers upon layers, well past the number of parts needed to make a whole, captures the essence of Homestuck as well as does Act 4.

Homestuck is different in every part, of course, and for everyone who says that Act 4 is peak Homestuck you will meet someone who says that Acts 1 through 3 were peak Homestuck, or who says that Act 5 was Peak Homestuck, or that Act 6 was Peak Homestuck. I do not mean to demean any portion of the work by saying that Act 4 is my favorite. The things I like in Homestuck the most are just the most themselves in this portion of the story.

https://homestuck.com/story/1627

I’m feeling less and less intelligent as I read more and more of Homestuck, because honestly, my theories read less like honest-to-god insights, and more like somebody who just wasn’t paying any fucking attention. Here, Jade spells out basically what I’ve been saying.

https://homestuck.com/story/1640

We’ll pause here for the evening. Reading was a little sparse today, but it’s a good place to leave off, especially since for some of these I wrote just stacks of theorizing.

Until tomorrow, Cam signing off, Mostly alive except for a bit of a cough, and not alone.

[donatello-writes]

Not Quite Human - Part IV

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Mystified by your date's bizarre actions, you wandered about your apartment, racking your brain as to where you'd gone wrong. Overthinking was your specialty, and you feared that perhaps you moved too fast, making him feel uncomfortable. Mortification painted your face as you hoped that wasn't the reason. Noticing Noodle sniffing around excitedly by the couch, you walked over to see what he was so interested in. Kneeling down for a closer look, you found a few pale green flecks dotting your carpet. They were lightly iridescent with a rough texture, almost like the skin of a snake. "...Are these...Scales?"

The sound of labored breath, laden with guilt, echoed through the otherwise silent midnight alleyways of New York city. Donatello felt like a fugitive fleeing from the scene of a crime as he darted from rooftop to rooftop, further distancing himself from you. The crisp October air burned his throat, but not as badly as the words left unsaid. He failed to have the courage to finally come clean about what he actually was: a mutant. The fear that surrounded him admitting his truth to you was paralyzing, knowing the outcome would most likely result in him never seeing you again. There was no chance that someone as perfect as you would want to be with a freakish reject like him. Beauty and the Beast is a lovely story, but things like that never happened in real life. 

Engrossed in thought, he was unprepared when his two-toed feet split through the small converse shoes, causing him to lose footing and tumble across the next rooftop. As he laid face-first on the cold and unforgiving concrete, he vowed to replace the shoes he'd destroyed, they were Mikey's after all. The human-turtle hybrid moved to get up, only to remain on the ground when a sharp pain shot down his back. He involuntarily coiled into a ball in preparation for the worst part of the change. The smooth skin on his back began to crawl before hardening as it reformed into his carapace.

Wincing, the Donatello hugged his own body for comfort. To distract himself from the pain, he focused on the sound of the sweatshirt slowly tearing apart as it surrendered to his expanding form. He felt terrible for destroying your belonging, but due to the intense stress of the moment, he was unable to remove it in time. It wasn't long before his shell triumphantly burst through the clothing, regaining it's rightful place on his back. The mutant breathed a sigh of relief, it was all over. Removing his glasses, and retrieving his mask from his pants pocket, he tied it back onto his face. Surveying his surroundings, he located a nearby manhole and quickly slipped down into it. 

Staggering through the sewer tunnels, vision doubled, Donatello struggled to even keep himself upright. Sewage splashed up onto his bare legs with each heavy step that he took. What little material that remained of his tattered jeans clung to his larger mutant form snugly, making movement difficult. This wasn't good. For the first time, he actually felt woozy following his change. Why are the after effects so adverse this time? He thought, mind swiftly consumed by worry. Thankfully, the journey wasn't long, and the lights of the lair soon illuminated his path.

The fatigued terrapin stumbled back into the lair, breathing still strained. Wobbling legs that had been threatening instability the entire jaunt home, finally gave out, and he collapsed like a newborn baby deer. Normally he would have rested before returning home, but he wasn't thinking clearly in his agitated state. Alarmed by the less than graceful entrance, his brothers rushed to his aid. Leonardo was the first at his side, followed closely by the others.

"Donnie, what happened? Where's all of your tech?" the leader in blue questioned.

"I...was attacked by foot soldiers...They ambushed me, I barely escaped...They took everything, but thankfully I awoke before they could do anything else." He lied again, something he abhorred, but had been doing a surprising amount of lately. Mikey tried his best not to react, knowing full well that his older brother's story was likely untrue.

Somehow the genius managed to convince his brethren that he was fine, and stole away to his laboratory. How was he going to explain this to you? After leaving without so much as a goodbye out the bathroom window of your high rise apartment unit. That, in and of itself, would be quite difficult to explain without telling you the truth. Worst part of all being the very moment at which he departed. The two of you were getting rather intimate, and if not for his pesky changing form, he would have stayed. The last thing he wanted you to think was that he wasn't interested in you that way. As if any of that even mattered at this point. Once you saw his true form, that flame of desire would surely die. 

Clearly his homemade ooze was unstable, it's effectiveness dwindling with each use. Time was a cruel mistress and refused Donatello any leeway. There was a limit to how many more times he'd be able to turn human, and honestly, he wasn't sure how much much more of it he could take. The formula was still incomplete. There was a key ingredient missing, and he couldn't figure out what.

***************************************  

Back at your apartment, you collected the cluster of scales discovered after Donatello's bizarre and hasty departure. Digging a microscope out of the closet and unboxing the device, you carefully set it up. Slipping the scales between slides and under the lens, you examined them. Following some tests, the scales were identified as being of the common North American box turtle. Perhaps Donatello has a pet turtle? It was just odd, as turtles usually shed similarly to snakes, in large sloughs rather than individual scales. 

As with most cases where you were in need of immediate answers, you turned to the internet. While navigating the seemingly unending information on box turtles, you happened upon a video. It was an excerpt from a nature documentary explaining their mating habits. The narrator prattled on in his proper English accent about how the males emit what was described as a churr, followed by footage of a male box turtle making an extremely familiar sound. Immediately recognizing it, you sat at your desk for a moment, completely stunned. It was almost identical to the sound you'd heard coming from Donatello. 

This new bit of intrigue encouraged further investigation. With the few supplies that you had, you assembled everything needed to conduct a rudimentary DNA test. Running into your laundry room, you retrieved his signature flannel shirt. Upon careful inspection of the garment, you managed to find a hair that you could use for analysis. You placed the hair besides the scales under the lens and had a look. Moving your eye from the microscope, you gasped. Somehow, the structural appearance of each seemed to almost match.

"But that would mean...There's no way." 

The tools required to conduct a proper test were not at your disposal, so you were quick to doubt the accuracy of the results. If your hypothesis was correct, Donatello would easily fit the description of those beings you'd heard about on the news. Considering the strides in genetic research that had occurred within the past decade, the existence of such a genetic marvel wasn't completely ludicrous. However, one fact remained: all of this was nothing but speculation until proven. This realization brought your wild theorizing to a halt.

Perhaps a goodnight's sleep would help to clear your restless mind.

Merely an hour or so after your head hit the pillow, a ruckus reverberated down the alley outside of your apartment, stirring you from fitful slumber. Understandably irked by the rude awakening, you grumbled and rolled over in your bed. The sound of a familiar voice among the others swiftly quelled your annoyance, prompting you to venture out of bed and over to the window.  

"Donnie...?" 

The name came out in the form of a whisper as you gazed skyward to the origin of the commotion. It was difficult to make out detail in the veil of night, but what you could see were four humanoid silhouettes on the rooftop of a neighboring building. The longer you stared, the more you came to realize that these figures weren't human. They had what appeared to be shells on their backs...turtles? Your eyes were drawn to one of them, specifically. The one who appeared to be decorated with various pieces of electronic equipment. 

Why do I feel like I know him somehow?

Further investigation was in order. Clumsily stepping through the window, you made your way out onto the fire escape. Still hazy from sleep, little attention was paid to your footing. One misstep was all it took to send you over the rail with a yelp. Thanks to quick reflexes, you managed to grab onto it, leaving you dangling from a dangerous height. 

Fingers losing grip with every passing second, it wasn't long before you finally began to fall. Knowing ground impact was immanent, you shut your eyes tight. But instead of hitting the hard pavement, you found yourself being whisked upward. Someone had caught you. Rough, scaly arms surrounded you, holding on tight and trembling ever so slightly. He didn't speak, but he didn't need to, his expression spoke volumes. Jaw dropped, releasing ragged breath, and eyes visibly ravaged by worry from behind his...tortoise shell glasses. This realization came too late, however, as you made the mistake of looking down. Dizziness assaulted your vision and the world swiftly went dark. 

Once he climbed your fire escape, his tension eased to see that you had fallen unconscious. That eliminated any awkward questions that he couldn't answer. His voice was too recognizable to you. It could give him away or, at the very least, cause suspicion. 

Gently, he laid you down onto the bed. Bringing the covers over you, he then lovingly tucked you in. He couldn't resist resting a hand softly on your cheek. So warm against his cold palm, a reminder of how different you were. It was easy to forget at times while waltzing around in human skin. 

Just as he turned to leave, you shifted in your bed and mumbled, "Donnie..." He shuddered at the sound of his own name. Peering over his shoulder, a sigh of relief left him to see that you were still out cold. 

It was just a coincidence, he told himself.

***************************************  

Awakening with a start, you were bewildered to find yourself in bed. "B-but...impossible." 

Throwing off the covers, you ran back to the window, gazing up to find the mysterious creatures had long since vanished. Before falling you could have sworn that you heard Donatello, but it all happened so quickly that you started to doubt yourself. With your crack theory regarding the nerdy lad all but consuming your thoughts as of late, you weren't all that surprised. 

It was just a dream...right?

The next day, he called. Despite him being the one who initiated the conversation, you were the first to begin.

“Donnie! About yesterday...If I made you feel uncomfortable at any point, I am so, so sorry.”

“No! That wasn’t it at all! I called to apologize to you.” there was a momentary pause as he collected his thoughts before continuing, “I’ve never been with another person in that way and I just got a bit...overwhelmed.”

Though you maintained that jumping out a window was not the best choice, you understood. Nerves can make a person do crazy things.“Well, if that ever happens again, can you promise me one thing?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Next time, please use the front door.” snorts and laughter came from the other end as he agreed to your terms. After a bit of talking, the two of you made plans to meet up. Excitedly stuffing all of your necessities into your backpack, you immediately headed out. 

***************************************  

"You forgot something the other night." with a broad smile you then handed over the flannel shirt, neatly folded and cleaned. The scent of lavender and vanilla laundry detergent clung to the material, filling the air with it's pleasant aroma. "It seems as though you're determined to have me keep this." 

Noticing a curious purple rag poking out of his pants pocket, you swiped it for further investigation. It looked so familiar, but you couldn't place where you'd seen it before. He jerked after feeling the item leave his pocket and turned to you. Gears were already turning in his head, preparing his answer to whatever you were about to say.

Upon further examination of the brilliantly colored cloth, you came to discover two specifically cut holes in it. Additionally, there were designs up and down both sides. One appeared to be Japanese kanji and the other...*an icon of a turtle*. That was it! The terrapin rescuer of your dreams was wearing a mask almost identical to this one. 

"Is this a...mask?" 

Without missing a beat, Donatello replied, "Yes, because I'm secretly a crime fighting superhero by night." He said, laughing a bit louder than necessary. 

"You did mention that you work at night...The pieces of the Donnie puzzle are finally coming together." with a wry smirk, you played along with his comical hypothetical. As he reached out to reclaim his possession, you swiftly tied to onto your face. 

Puckering your lips goofily, you then requested his opinion, "How do I look?" adding to the humorous display with hands on both hips and a sassy rolling of the shoulders. 

"I'm not going to lie...you look good in purple. Unfortunately, now I will have to kill you because you know my secret identity. It's such a shame too...I was really starting to like you, we had a good run." as the two of you exchanged a laugh, he wrapped his arms around you; using this as a distraction to remove the mask. "Now, are we just going to fool around or are we going on a date?"

***************************************  

Within the next few months, when Donatello wasn't working on the ooze formula, he was out with you. The more time that you spent together, the more he couldn't help but worry about telling you the truth. He was leaving a crucial fact out of the equation: that he wasn't exactly human...Well, not completely. Guilt ate away at his delicate conscience, his anxiety surrounding the matter only worsening with each passing day. The night that you shared together was a close call. It was only a matter of time before it somehow surfaced whether planned or unexpected. Not wanting circumstances to come to the latter, he resolved to tell you on his own terms. It was just a matter of finding the right time.

Going over the plans for the evening in his head, Donatello gathered everything he needed for the night. Dinner, a movie, and a walk through the park. That would allow more than enough time to return to your apartment, and for him to confess to you before the ooze's effectiveness wore off. Without the visual, his story would be hard to believe. A much as it pained him to think of you watching his gruesome shift in form, it needed to be done. 

With a heavy sigh, he headed away from the lair and deep into the sewers to take the ooze. Following his change, he donned a Queen t-shirt and squirmed uncomfortably while fitting his suspenders over his shoulders. It felt strange wearing his usual cargo pants. Not only were they ill-fitting on his smaller human body, but they also served to mark the end. The end of being human, the end of being normal, the end of being...with you. 

The final touch: his purple flannel over shirt. It would undoubtedly be torn apart when he reverted back, and he couldn't think of a better way to get rid of it. He couldn't keep the article of clothing after all that it came to stand for. The outfit was far from fashionable, but at that point in time, he was in need of functionality. He didn't bother to remove his goggles, there was no point, she'd already seen them. Bedsides, it'd be far better to be prepared in case anything happened.

***************************************  

"Nice suspenders, you're really playing up the hot nerd look, huh?" You joked.

Making a point to adjust his glasses he replied, "You know you like it." 

Shooting him a smirk, you grabbed hold of his suspenders and pulled him into a kiss. "Oh, I definitely do...And I surrender, the nerdy allure is too much for me to handle! Have mercy!" You both chuckled as you made your way to the restaurant.

Hopping seamlessly from dinner to movie, the date was just as normal as any other. However, once you left the theater and headed off to your next destination, Donatello leaned in and whispered, "I don't mean to alarm you, but...It appears that we have chaperones accompanying our date. They're undoubtedly looking for revenge after what I did to them before." He concluded, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He still didn't know that they were after you, specifically. 

After a series of twists, turns, and misdirections that would make even the Scooby Doo gang dizzy, it seemed you had thrown the ruffians off your trail. The detour had taken a decent chunk of time, and by now it was already dark. Given how far you both were from her apartment, he was forced to find a secluded place where there'd be no threat of him being seen as he transformed. 

A rooftop. 

Taking your hand in his, he led you up a nearby fire escape. You didn't question it, figuring this was still part of your evading the current threat. Once the two of you reached the top, stared up at the sky wistfully before turning to you. Gazing deep into your eyes, he wasn't sure where to begin. After everything that had transpired that night, his time frame was limited. Within the hour, the effects of the ooze would cease and his true appearance revealed. 

Noticing his unease, you wrapped your arms around him. The tips of your fingers traced up and down the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. You followed with a delicate touch of the lips. He savored every kiss that you granted him, knowing this would all come to an end once you knew what he really was...a monster...those words still echoed in Donatello's head from that terrible night at the Police station. His analytical brain made sense of the situation, he'd rationalized long ago that what those police had said came from a place of ignorance; however, knowing that fact didn't make their words hurt any less.

"Y/N...I...I haven't been myself lately." He began, words slow and heavy.

Puffing a chuckle, you replied, "It's okay, it happens to the best of us."

"No. You don't understand, I-I'm not hu--"

Angry shouts cut Donatello off from his confession. The Purple Dragons who had been following the two of you earlier had managed to locate you once more. Effortlessly scooping you up into his arms, your beau made a mad dash for the fire escape. While descending the stairs, your phone wriggled free from your pocket and plummeted down to the concrete below. You let out an involuntary shriek as it did so. 

"S-sorry, I'll get you a new one!" He promised as you finally reached the bottom. Without hesitation, he then bolted down the alleyway with impressive speed. You looked back to see a few new thugs had joined the chase and were not far behind. The change was upon him, and in a panic, he hastened his pace. He was paying little attention to navigation, but thankfully you were. Recognizing the area, you shouted at Donatello to stop. Unfortunately, the warning came too late, he'd already turned to face a dead end. 

Pain finally gripped him and he froze, allowing the pursuers to catch up. Nestled in his arms, you could feel his muscles twitching incessantly, begging to regain their proper form. Surveying his surroundings, there were no fire escapes, no windows, nothing to grab onto to make a getaway. The only thing in this alley was a faulty streetlight that flickered weakly, offering an eerie lighting to the already tense situation. 

***************************************  

Your piercing screech echoed down the streets, making it's way to the ears of a certain leader in blue. Out with only two of his brothers, he couldn't ignore such an apparent cry of distress. Following the sound, they came to find only the Purple Dragons all converging on one point. Clearly they were up to nothing good, so they silently followed from the rooftops. Eventually coming upon the objects of the chase: a young, unassuming couple. 

Raphael tilted his head, perplexed, as he concentrated his gaze on the stranger below, "Hey, doesn't that guy look kinda familiah?" He inquired, nudging his little brother. 

"Nope, nope...Haven't seen that dude before in my life." Michelangelo straightened up, trying his best not to seem suspicious. Knowing it was Donatello, and concerned for his safety, the orange masked turtle added, "Should we go down there and help them?" He then looked to his older brethren for guidance. Both of them traded glances before surveying the scene below one more time. The heroic young man was poised to fight off his attackers, and he didn't appear to be a stranger to combat, judging from his solid fighting stance, and the fierce expression on his face.

Leonardo shook his head decisively, "No, if it's not absolutely necessary for us to intervene, we won't. We are not going to risk being seen over a small skirmish." the leader had spoken, and he directed his younger team members to follow him away from the stand-off. Not but a second later, the human man prepared to dish our the much deserved beating that his assailants were begging for. 

This was a dead end in every sense of the phrase. Standing between you and the enemy, Donatello held his place firmly. He would do anything it took to ensure your safety. As if some otherworldly force were at work in his favor, just as the miscreants prepared for attack, the streetlight cut out. Scant beams of moonlight streamed in from between the lofty buildings and offered little light to the scene. Low gasps and groans of displeasure came from the Purple Dragons, but not him. He was completely at home in the shadows.

Drawing in a deep breath, Donatello began fighting off the group, and defend you. They all rushed at him, despite their limited vision, and the game was set. Maneuvering through the group with calculated grace, he easily evaded the flurry of fists and weapons. His strikes were deliberate, without a hint of hesitation. There was no time for flourishes like the last fight, this time he was all business. Admittedly, he was putting on a bit of a show to impress you the last time he faced off against these thugs.

Leonardo motioned for his brothers to follow him away from the scene, and the both nodded. Turning back to catch one last glimpse of the show, Raphael's eyes widened. He recognized those fighting movements instantly, they were exactly the same as what he and his brothers learned from Master Splinter. "Guys. Check out this nerd's moves."  

Well aware that his shift in form was upon him, Donatello was forced to ignore it, and focus on the fight. Scales began to replace skin, and the sound of tearing fabric rang out into the quieted night. His darkened form appeared to be growing, but that couldn't be possible. A single flash from the streetlight gave you a glimpse of your heroic beau, half-turned. It was only for a split second, but enough. 

The two oldest brothers watched in disbelief as this gangly human man slowly took the familiar shape of their brother, far too stunned by what their eyes were beholding to take action. Michelangelo shifted uncomfortably, being privy to the secret, trying to pretend like he was equally as surprised. The leader was speechless, not entirely sure of what he had just witnessed. While beside him, the red brute showed the most visible reaction. A myriad of emotions swept over the red masked turtle's face--shock, fear, and disgust, before finally settling on his usual: anger.

As the transformation persisted, so did Donatello's attackers. He wanted to double over, but couldn't let up his defense for a second. All that he could do was grit his teeth, and tolerate the pain as he continued fending off the assault. There were far too many enemies for him to be concerned with his change at this point in time. Meanwhile, his practically blind assailants were oblivious to his shifting form. 

It wasn't until he took down the last of his opponents, and reached for your hand, that he finally came crashing back down to reality from his adrenaline high. His three-pronged, green, scaly hand was outstretched before him, mere inches away from yours. At which point, the streetlight finally decided to remain on, shining brightly down on the newly turned mutant like a spotlight. The otherworldly force was not so benevolent after all.

The orange and red masked brothers were prepared to jump down and interrupt, but Leonardo quickly stopped them. "No...we're not needed here." He stated, knowing this was time that you and Donatello needed alone. The wise leader was able to read the situation effortlessly. Putting the disappointment that he was feeling on the back burner, he chose empathy. Knowing that his sibling was already stressed, he didn't want to compound that by getting involved at this moment. 

"Whut??? Didja not see our brother just--" the burly terrapin readied his argument, but was swiftly silenced by the head of the team. "Enough, we're not interfering. We can discuss this with Donnie later, but right now...They need to be alone."

Coming to the realization that you had just witnessed him transform for the first time, Donatello's eyes grew wide with horror and he quickly withdrew his hand. He wished this had happened under better circumstances, but these were the cards that he was dealt. Dread flashed over his features as you stared back at him, transfixed. The expression on your face appeared almost identical to the one in his nightmare. Anxiety at it's peak, he backed away like a frightened animal and absconded without saying a word. There was nothing to be said, his monstrous form spoke for itself, telling the story of his deceit. 

The mutant's departure was so swift that he didn't hear your plea for him to stay. By the time you'd found words, he had already disappeared into the night. You stood there, surrounded by fallen enemies, and the many tattered pieces of his flannel shirt that laid strewn about the alley. Kneeling down, one by one you carefully collected the pieces of material. After retrieving every last shred, you stepped over the unconscious men and slowly made your way home in a daze.

Once he had returned to the lair, Donatello shut himself away in his room, head reeling from what had just occurred. The look of fear on your face replayed endlessly in his head as if it were a video on loop. He didn't expect you to accept him like this, he was an abomination of both nature and science. He only wanted for you to be able to lead a normal life, and he was unable to give you that. Knowing this fact made his heart ache.

Surely you wouldn't want to see him again, he concluded pessimistically. Not after watching someone you thought was human horrifically transform into a monster before your very eyes. Someone you trusted...and maybe even...loved? He quickly erased that possibility from his mind, you'd never return your affection for him like this...as a mutant. You loved the human Donatello, and that was the reality of the situation.

You returned to your apartment, utterly dumbfounded by the recent events. From your brief infiltration of Dr. Stockman's laboratory, you knew that he made unbelievable breakthroughs in genetic engineering. Though you were not privy to the specifics of his work, rumors flew within the scientific community that he'd found a way to modify human and animal DNA with his miraculous purple serum. You didn't believe these insane claims, it was something like that seemed unachievable. Despite the fact that you'd been hired to purloin said formula, you still weren't convinced of it's effectiveness. Was Donatello really a human-animal hybrid? Even though you'd witnessed him change into his half-animal form right in front of you, if was still difficult to swallow. 

"He's...incredible."

...to be continued.

Tagged a few folks who asked to be: 

@ali-on-reverie​ @fullvoidmoon @notaliteraltoad​