#the amnesia thing makes some sort of sense now more than ever

[marinaiguess]

blaze my beloved blaze. you could control fire before you sealed iblis in you. iblis wouldnt accept silver as a vessel but it did choose you. why? was it bcuz you are a royal soul even if you werent a princess in sonic's world? were you a princess in sonic's world but we never got to know abt it? was it your pyrokinesis that made iblis decide that you are going to be the vessel? have you ever cried blaze? i wonder if you could wake up iblis with your crying or if thats not enough since you can already control fire. who are you blaze? is the fire within you actually a curse? a tamed one? one that could cause the destruction of your world at some point? what are you made of?

[h0neylevi]

Chapter Two

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: brief discussion of human trafficking

word count: 3.2k

“Where did you find him again?”

“On my way home last night on the subway.”

“... And he was–”

“In the full scout uniform, yeah.”

Your friend and fellow nurse, Allie, pauses in the wake of your words, eyes fixed on the door at the other end of the hall where one of the hospital’s doctors took Levi to be examined.

They’ve been back there for over an hour now, and you’re starting to get nervous. If this goes badly, you’re never going to live it down with your coworkers.

“Is he hot?”

Your jaw hangs when Allie’s words register, and you turn back to her with an incredulous look.

“I told you all that and that’s what you take from it?”

She raises her hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, if the universe decided to drop a man into my lap that thought he was Erwin Smith, I would take advantage of the situation.”

That, oddly enough, makes you laugh.

“He isn’t Levi Ackerman,” you say once you’ve calmed down. “He probably just hit his head on the way from a costume party and got confused.”

On the other side of the nurse’s station, Allie groans and gets up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m being realistic,” you defend.

“We see weirder things walk into this hospital every day.”

“I think an anime character come to life would surpass anything we’ve ever seen.”

With a defeated little sigh, she grabs a file and rounds the corner. “Well, whatever he is, I have to get back to work.” She taps the file on your shoulder as she passes. “Have fun with Beyblade. Let me know what Paul says.”

Just as she starts down the corridor, the door at the end of the hall opens and Dr. Paul Holloway exits the exam room. His expression is solemn as he gestures for you to join him.

“Thank you again for doing this on such short notice, Dr. Holloway,” you greet him. “Did you find out anything?”

He looks down for a moment at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, the only thing really to note is that he doesn’t seem to know what year it is or where he is, but all of his tests and scans came back normal. Cognition and reflexes otherwise seem to be just fine.”

He rifles through the pages for a moment before continuing. “There are no drugs in his system, and no significant injuries that I could find that would cause this sort of temporary amnesia, so I would have to refer him out to a specialist if you wanted more answers. But as of now, my only guess could be that maybe he was trafficked and escaped. Possibly in a fugue state for so long that he has no recollection of how he got here.”

You listen intently. That wouldn’t explain the clothes you found him in, but it’s worth considering all the same. Large cities were usually hubs for human trafficking. It’s more likely than Allie’s theory at least.

Dr. Holloway seems to sense your thought process. “He should recover his memories soon, but I would suggest maybe filing a police report. I’m sure he has a family out there somewhere who’s missing him.”

You consider it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I’ll mention it. Thanks again, Dr. Holloway.”

“Of course.”

You wait quietly as he opens the exam room door again and beckons Levi out.

He’s just as passive as ever when he sees you waiting. With a departing nod, Dr. Holloway continues down the hall to another exam room.

“So,” you begin, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a test subject,” Levi grumbles, falling into step with you. “Four-Eyes would love this place.”

You turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “So, are you satisfied now? I can go?”

You walk through the nearby exit door on the side of the building and onto the street.

“Well, Dr. Holloway didn’t find anything wrong, so I guess you’re welcome to go wherever you like,” you say. “But I really think you should go to the police. I think something really bad has happened to you, Levi. They might be able to help you.”

While you speak, Levi looks around, studying the cars as they pass and the tall buildings.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he sighs. “I think I’m too far from home to go back.”

The recognition that bleeds through his tone makes you curious. “Do you remember where you’re from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His mouth twists into a frown. “It’s definitely not around here.”

You want to keep pressing but ultimately decide against it. It isn’t as if it’s any of your business, but you feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. You were the one who found him, and if you have the means to help him get to where he needs to go, you’d be willing to offer. It isn’t as if you’ve got anything else going on in your life, but you can only do so much when he doesn’t want you to pry into his personal life.

“Well...” you trail off, unsure. “I need to get some groceries but once we get back to my place, I can wash your clothes before you leave. That’ll give you some time to decide what you want to do.”

To your surprise, it doesn’t take him long to agree.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

**

The supermarket isn’t far from your apartment, so you get onto the city metro together. It’s a familiar route to you, but it’s clear that Levi isn’t accustomed to the amount of people that cram themselves together into the narrow space at once.

There aren’t any seats when you climb on, so you’re forced to stand together in one of the corner exits. At the very least, Levi remembers to grab onto one of the handrails just before the train starts moving—an action that he still seems to find disgusting despite the necessity.

“What?” you laugh at his pinched expression.

“I think I preferred it the way it was last night,” he remarks, not doing anything to hide his distaste while looking around. “How often do these things get cleaned?”

You blink. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably only when something seriously hazardous happens. Like blood or puke.”

The look on his face only grows.

“Don’t worry. I have sanitizer in my bag. I can give you some when we get off,” you promise. “I never got rid of the habit from covid.”

The way Levi’s brows furrow suggest that he doesn’t know what either of those things are either, but you just shake your head, wordlessly promising to explain later.

Once you’re off the train and back out onto the street, you move to the side to pull the aforementioned bottle out of your bag. Levi watches quietly until you reach and squeeze some of the liquid into his upturned palm.

He lifts it closer to his face. “What is this?”

“It’s sanitizer,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “Just rub it in like this. It kills the germs on your hands that you can get from touching random surfaces.”

He follows your example, albeit a bit more slowly, and you set off again down the street.

The rest of the walk is done mostly in silence. Thankfully, Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He chooses mostly to walk along beside you, occasionally looking up at skyscrapers as you pass them or balk at the occasional interaction on the street. There’s a sense of wonder and curiosity that settles on his face, smoothing out the stern glare that you’ve seen him wear since you first found him on the metro.

It really is like he’s never seen anything like it before, and you wonder again about his history. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything, merely curious as he walks, and he carries himself confidently. Like a soldier…

No, that was Allie influencing your thoughts. There’s no way this man was the Levi Ackerman. Even if he had his hair, his stature, the same sullen expression, and similar mannerisms to ones you’ve seen in the anime. It’s an impossible thought. You’re not even considering it.

“What are you staring at?”

You blink and realize that he’s looking at you now and holy shit, his eyes are even that shade of blue-grey.

You turn forward again just as a crosswalk changes for you to go. “Nothing,” you say quickly. “You just… remind me of someone.”

He doesn’t reply—most likely because he doesn’t care—but you’re grateful that he doesn’t pay it any mind.

But by the time you’ve entered the supermarket and grabbed a cart, your curiosity outweighs your hesitation.

“Can I ask you something?”

Beside you, Levi scans the produce aisle you’re approaching with passive interest. “That depends.”

Ignoring him, you press forward. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

You speak and he turns to look at you, his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to what happened than you’re letting on,” you continue. “And I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“You’re right. It is none of your business.”

The comment stings more than you expect, but you try to quickly brush it off. You don’t know this man, and in a matter of an hour or so he’ll be gone. You’d promised yourself that as long as he was healthy, you wouldn’t meddle.

But after everything you’ve done for him, it still feels unfair to treat you so dismissively. He acts like you’re a nuisance more than the person who cleaned him up and gave him a place to sleep out of the cold.

The ensuing silence is tense. You push your cart forward, suddenly eager to get out as quickly as possible. The faster you get home, the quicker he leaves. If that’s what he wants after everything you’ve done, he can have it.

You’re moving through the selection of deli cheeses when Levi speaks up again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.”

You look around, following his gaze as it skims over the refrigerated walls of pre-packaged meat and cheese.

“What are you talking about? It’s a grocery store.”

He huffs. “That doctor said the year was 2024.”

You change course, leading the way into an aisle of canned goods. “Yeah?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest as he follows along.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m not from here.” He pauses for a moment as you pull some cans from a shelf and place them in your cart. “I’m not from this time.”

You stop for a moment and look at him. On his face is the same look he had the night before, that same sincerity when he told you he’d been looking for some sort of headquarters.

You can’t help it. You chuckle. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

You continue down the aisle and turn into the next one. “Levi, there’s never been a recorded instance of time travel…ever. It’s never happened.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “See? You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t about believing you. It’s impossible.”

But even as you say it, you don’t feel entirely convinced that it’s true.

Improbable, sure. Very unlikely. Insane that you’re even considering it, but the more you think about it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place.

The way you found him, his clothes, the way he looks around at everything like he’s seeing it all for the first time. There’s no indication that he has a serious head injury, so you can’t fall back on that anymore. And the trafficking? Well… You’ve been trained to look for red flags, and nothing about his situation seems to fit with that explanation.

Plus, there are the coins you found in the pockets of his clothes this morning. Copper and silver ones bearing symbols you don’t recognize. The silhouette of a woman in a crown.

You’d looked up every conceivable country that you could think of that might fit the bill and nothing had matched.

There’s no way that what he’s saying is true though, right? If you believe him, you’d have to believe all of it—meaning that he is Levi Ackerman and that the events of Attack on Titan are real.

No, that’s silly. In all of recorded history, there’s never been a single event that coincides with the existence of man-eating titans. Belief in giants is a fringe theory not backed by actual evidence.

But, still. Just to humor him.

“What time are you from then?” you ask.

“854.”

You stop and stare at him. “You realize that’s…over a thousand years ago, right?”

With his mouth in a thin line, Levi nods.

You continue to stare, waiting for a break in his composure. The inevitable laugh that will surely come, marking this entire conversation as a joke, but it never comes.

“You’re serious,” you finally say.

Levi blinks. “You believe me?”

God, what do you believe? “I…” You bring your hands to your face. The middle of the pasta aisle is not the place to be weighing the possibility of time travel. “No,” you finally say. “I mean, I don’t know…can you prove it?”

Levi raises a brow. “How am I supposed to prove it to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be over a thousand years old.”

“I’m not claiming to be—” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh. “You’re just as bad as the brats back home.”

Something in your patience finally snaps.

You start walking again, needing space. “You know, you could stand to be a bit nicer to me considering all I’ve done for you.”

For a long moment, there’s only the rattling sound of the cart’s wheels as they roll down the aisle.

“I am grateful,” Levi finally says, surprisingly still following next to you. “But I didn’t ask you to interfere.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t have just left a man to bleed all over the metro. I’m sorry I have basic human decency.”

“Basic human decency would have been pointing me in the direction of the nearest sink,” he points out. “You let me sleep on your couch.”

You turn to glare at him. “I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?”

“I’m saying that I don’t like owing people,” he says.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Levi doesn’t look like he completely believes you, but at least he lets the matter rest. 

He follows you the rest of the way through the store in thoughtful silence.

Left to your own devices, you grab things without thinking, relying on muscle memory to lead you to the items you usually buy. It isn’t as if you deviate much from your favorite meals, so the rest of the process is quick.

By the time you’ve grabbed everything you need, your mood has improved enough that you feel a bit remorseful for doubting him.

Even if it was a weird idea, Levi appeared genuine. Like Dr. Holloway had said, he’d probably regain his memories soon. If he really didn’t remember anything about modern life, he was going to need someone to help him.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave so soon.

It isn’t until you turn around to speak that you realize you’re alone. A quick look around the aisle confirms that Levi’s nowhere to be seen. That’s odd. When had he wandered off?

You begin searching back through the aisles and after a few minutes, you spot him. Standing in front of the long, neat shelves lined with tea and coffee. Something akin to dread settles into your stomach at the sight.

He glances over as you approach and places a box back on the shelf. A beat passes before he clears his throat and says, “I’ve never seen so much tea in one place before.”

“Do you want some?” you ask, glancing at the box he put back—a black tea blend. He doesn’t respond, simply skimming over the labels again with a peculiar glint in his eye.

You don’t wait for an answer and pluck the box off of the shelf. He doesn’t stop you as you place it into your cart.

It’s a truce. An apology and an acknowledgment that you’re helping him all in one.

You turn your cart back around and lead the way toward the front. “I’m all done. Let’s go.”

**

The walk back home isn’t as tense as before, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

You keep watching Levi every chance you get. He appears more thoughtful. His gaze lingers just as it always has on the buildings and the people walking past. Cars, billboards, restaurants, all of it.

It’s got to be overwhelming. Not that you're believing him, but if he believes that he isn’t from this time, it has to be a shock to see so many unfamiliar things at once.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask.

His expression remains passive as he takes a deep breath, like he’s grounding himself. “Everything just looks so…”

“Artificial?” you supply when he pauses, but the look on his face tells you he’s confused by the word you use. You try again. “Uh, not natural?”

“I was going to say clean.” His voice goes soft as he looks around again. “The air is clean.”

Not sure how to respond, you turn forward and continue down the street.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach your apartment.

Levi helps carry the bags of groceries upstairs and into your kitchen, where he stands awkwardly as you unload everything into their respective spots. Luna, still curious, climbs onto the table nearby, making Levi scowl.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t shoo her away when he decides to take a seat, and he even goes so far as to let her sniff him as he looks out of the window.

You smile when you hear her chirp. A noise that you know she makes when she feels like she’s being ignored.

“You can pet her, you know?” you look over your shoulder to tell him.

He meets you with a bored look. “I know. I don’t want to.”

As if she can understand him, Luna meows again.

After you put the last item away in your fridge, you move to sit at the table across from him.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and for the first time, he sounds truly at a loss.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep staying here for a bit longer,” you say, petting Luna when she slinks over to you. “Until we figure something out.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “We,” he repeats.

You meet his gaze evenly. “Look, I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but you’re here now and you’re still a human being. As long as you’re open to letting me help, I will.”

He seems to think on it for a moment before agreeing. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose.”

And you think that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll get.

[ashyjingles]

jason grace headcanons

as requested by @sacrifical-lamb-core

ive been known to enjoy some more feral leaning jason grace but this is more of an authoritative take on his personality if you will. feel free to add to or dispute anything i have here!! this is all kind of a jumbled mess of first-come-first-serve deal in my head and i have yet to go through and weed any out

he has problems with authority. not outwardly; in fact, to everyone else, he’s the picture perfect kid who follows all of the rules. but that’s because he’s terrified of what would happen if he stepped out of line. he grew up with lupa, who was incredibly harsh to ensure survival in her pups. and then when he got to the legion, all of the officers were required to uphold the law. jason saw what happened to people who stepped the line, and the results were never pretty. (in son of neptune they mentione tying someone in a bag with weasels and throwing them in the little tiber for fuck’s sake) he grew scared to even TOE the line. 

because of the previous hc, he’s scared of kids. he knows how rambunctious they get, and he knows that if it came down to it, he would have to punish them and follow through on it by necessity. its what all his predecessors did after all. but he doesn't want to harm them. hes always had that soft spot for the new and/or younger kids. so he’s not scared of kids themselves, he’s scared of being the one to give them consequences to their potential actions. he leaves that to someone else with more guts

the previous two leave him with a lot of cognitive dissonance that he never really gets over. he’s an incredibly empathetic person and no matter how much he tries he can never really stop that feeling of regret when he has to punish someone who clearly regrets their actions. but give them an inch and they'll take a mile. he has major problems with dissociation where he removes his sense of self from the scenario and lets his logical processing take over without any emotion. reyna has had to pull him back from it a few too many times.

between the dissociation, magical amnesia, adhd, and constant brain damage, that boy has one of the worst memories youve ever seen

he really likes steak. specifically rare steak. (wolf!jason truther…)

he can see electrical currents! and can. see? wind currents. its more of a knowing the wind currents are there without thinking about them rather than a visual thing though. its how despite his poor eyesight he was an excellent fighter before he got the glasses

jason has really sharp canines! so does thalia! they get it from their mom, who filed her own canines down for a softer appearance and would have done the same to her kids once they were old enough for that type of dental work. 

jason is left handed, but because of military-style training early on it was forcibly trained out of him either because nobody realized he was left-handed or because they looked down on left-handedness for the sake of unanimity in the formations on the field. he just thinks hes naturally ambidextrous

gay. mlm. boy kisser for certain that man does NOT like girls. he treated reyna and piper the exact same despite one of them being his girlfriend (and treated reyna in a way where she thought he might have liked her back) because he treats them both in accordance to his emotions toward them: ie, he likes both platonically, which is why theres no difference. he just cant tell.

he fucking LOVES mint. says brushing his teeth and chugging a cold glass of water makes his mouth feel like being up in the air and 15 thousand feet with the wind in face.

he’s half asian! beryl grace is asian (i usually go with either thai or vietnamese) and usually i just went with wasian but then the show came out and now i go with blasian. or maybe beryl grace is wasian? whatever the case, i always pictured him and thalia as having some sort of asian descent.

hes really good at archery. dont tell anyone its just him controlling the winds though

hes such a dog person oh my god

his eyes light up like circuits/lightning when he uses his powers. specifically his lightning powers. 

jason doesnt have dyslexia but he does have dyscalculia. like, really bad dyscalculia. but he still greatly prefers reading in latin!

jason hated reading for the longest time because they didnt have any books purely for enjoyment on base. in new rome itself they had bookstores with plenty of books. (they were mostly classics because they didnt have too much contact with the rest of the world, but they were more than just military reports or old historic scrolls you needed express permission to even breath on) but when he discovers newer books he finds himself really liking them! though his favourite genre is definitely classics, and when someone breaks the news to him that he couldve had these books the entire time hes devastated

when he was younger he was better at latin than english because most kids who arrive at camp jupiter know english already and theyre well equipped at teaching people latin, but not english. they had to send him to a school off base/in new rome for younger kids to learn some more rudimentary skills

it was under juno’s orders that he lived on base. she wanted him to be as prepared as possible for his future, which meant starting his training bright and early. otherwise he probably would have spent some time in camp jupiter as a normal kid until he could at least, oh i dunno, read and write. tie his shoes. eat with cutlery. take a bath by himself.

if jason had been there long enough without the swap ever happening, when he stepped down from praetor (not for another longggg few years) he would have done law in new rome. 

if post swap jason grace had the opportunity to do law in new rome, he would have pushed for rules regarding kids safety. of course, if another jason case were to happen nobody would have been able to deny a god(dess) but jason was never a normal case, was he?

can you tell i like lawyer!jason

less of a headcanon more of commentary on his character but as strong of a character as he was, camp half blood taught him how to have a back bone. in rome he was incredibly disciplined and had no trouble ordering other people around, but it was always in accordance with new rome’s laws. camp half blood taught him how to abide by his own moral principles rather than ones that someone else gave to him. (after all, new rome was about unity while chb was about individuality.) 

he honestly really likes his work as pontifex maximus. it fulfills his inner desire to be doing the ‘right’ thing by rome’s standards (especially because the title is highly revered) while giving him the room to express his creative desires, which is something that he had never been able to do. its also not at the cost of someone else, which usually ended up happening when he was upholding the law as praetor

this one works in contrast or in tandem with my previous bullet on his sexuality (specifically the comment on how he treated piper and reyna): he knew that reyna had a crush on him. he didnt know why he couldnt feel the same. queer culture wasnt really a thing in the modern world for the time it took place, and i dont imagine new rome was any more progressive. he didnt understand lots of things about his sexuality at the time. he didnt know that not liking girls might have been an option, and that he didnt have to like reyna back. so he tried his best to convince himself into having feelings for her, which led to reyna thinking they were reciprocated. once he met piper, that confusion happened all over again and even without his memories he found himself repeating the process

his favourite is blue like the sky, and ironically his and thalia’s eyes

thalias eyes are slightly darker than jason’s. more grey as well. jason’s are the brightest fucking blue youve ever seen. think the clearest, sunniest day youve ever seen, and it still doesnt hold a candle to his eyes. thalias are more like the sky before a storm.

jason can feel (along with see as given by previous bullet) electrical currents. he could feel someone switching a light switch from half a mile away if he thought about it

hes constantly brimming with static electricity and WILL shock everything he touches. a handshake? you get shocked. he tries to open a car door? literal sparks. as a kid he had to wear electricity resistant gloves because he didnt have a hold on it and it became dangerous because when his emotions are heightened, so are his powers. if he gets angry or excited or sad the air around him smells like ozone, and sometimes you can even see the sparks

cows really like him. straight up adore him. theyre his favourite animal!

he smells like ink, ozone, and something metallic. some people say blood, but hazel says its something like copper or nickel

[fallenhunnyapple]

Hello Hi time to talk about the Cyberpunk Dreams AU that haunts my waking moments.

I've posted drawing and comics and stuff but it doesn't really explain the World and the AU, as they just focus on the Relationship. So it's time to give a run down of the Universe and Lucifer and Adam's roles in it more Completely. Gonna try and avoid any explicit game spoilers, minimize that as much as I can. I play as Lucifer and @fallennumbskull plays as Adam and we have some of the things they experience influence the story we built, though ultimately the AU mostly focuses on them existing in the setting than following the game experience 1:1.

The world of Cyberpunk Dreams is one that takes place after civil wars and natural disasters have ravaged the US and have left it as a complete ruined dystopia. The main setting is in the city of Cincinnati, now just referred to as Cinci.

Lucifer and Adam both work for some mystery organization that have assigned them missions to fulfill in the City. They don't start off knowing each other and Lucifer gets there first and has a longer time to establish himself, hence why he's already a crime lord while Adam is still Hired Help by the time they start working together.

Their missions are as follows.

Lucifer:

Adam:

A couple of things to note: Lucifer and Adam both have Amnesia. This was done purposefully by those they are fulfilling the missions for. They don't remember anything explicit about their lives before, if they had friends, family, relationships, etc. It's all gone. They know Just Enough to get started and those lost memories are supposed to slowly trickle back in as they become relevant. There is no guarantee that they will ever fully remember their past lives. For one reason or another, they have both agreed to this.

The other thing: They are both Mutants. Mutants in this setting are designer, created on purpose. Uncovering the truth there is Adam's main mission. But regardless, they both have altered DNA that give them certain abilities and certain detriments, each of them having multiple mutations, but One that stands above the rest. Predominantly, Lucifer's main mutation is Vampirism. He requires blood or plasma to drink often, the lack of which prevents him from eating solid foods and if ignored too long can cause reckless bloodlust. But he is also faster, stronger, smarter, more charismatic etc etc, all those stereotypes about Vampires. He _is_ weak to the Sun and if he's out during the day he can burn. And he doesn't have any sort hypnosis or glamour he can use on other people. But he's Charming, so that still works in his favor. And on Adam's side of things, he has wolf DNA. This makes him strong, gives him heightened senses and allows him to talk to Dogs (very useful when they get their own puppy later, her name is Zwei). He is extremely loyal but also reckless and he tends to think of himself as an Alpha, better than anyone else. Well, almost anyone. There's only one person he will accept as being Above him. And on top of all that Adam is something called a 'transhumanist' meaning he's someone who believes that those with mutations and altered bodies are superior to regular humans. He considers himself to be the next step of evolution and has a superiority complex about it.

Back to the setting! Cinci is a mess of a city. You need to Command respect here otherwise you could end up with your brain splattered across an alley wall or your body sold for sex or organs. It's a dark and fucked up town and while there are pockets of more civil and safe zones, the majority of the city and where you spend your time is the Slums. Sure, there are people who just do their best to survive, but Luci and Adam aren't there for that. No, the people who Command respect, who make money and make a name for themselves, the people they need to be in order to progress in their missions are those known as Players. The ones with the money, the ones who work with drugs, prostitution, weapon sales, organ trafficking, the ones who can hire others to do their dirty work for them, the ones who can get access to any and all information they may need.

Lucifer has been there longer, is an established Player and has a large enough crew and amassed enough money to be Comfortable as he works on fulfilling his mission. He hires Adam, who hasn't been there as long and is still working his way up, to be his bodyguard. Lucifer doesn't prevent Adam from continuing to accumulate his own power while he works for him, so it's not an issue. But then they get involved and Lucifer opens up his own network and resources to Adam. They're partners in multiple senses and Lucifer not only promotes Adam to his lover, but he gives him jurisdiction of certain aspects of his business.

Some more about the setting: Mutants are despised. There are mutants out there in Cinci but they have to keep that part of themselves secret (not easy when some mutations are Visible). There is a policing organization called Tower whose policy is Shoot on Sight when it comes to mutants. And they are Indiscriminate about it. If you are a mutant, if Tower becomes suspicious of you, all you can do is try and stay in hiding, not go out during the day, until they lose interest. Otherwise there's no guarantee you'll make it to the next day. And the general population doesn't care for mutants and if they find out, they could either report you or simply refer to you as 'it', mutants being seen as Lesser than humans.

As both Lucifer and Adam are mutants, that makes their lives more dangerous. There have been times where someone from their crew would get Killed to send a message and draw them out for being Mutants. Of course, that person meets the ending they deserve, but it's still worrisome when people find out. Luckily, Lucifer is part of a Vampire Coven/Cult called Black Moon who has members, both vampire and non-mutants, who have infiltrated basically every aspect of society, even Tower itself. And as long as Lucifer does as he's asked and keeps himself from endangering the cult from being discovered, they will keep him safe. And as a rising member of their ranks, he has extra privileges and protections. And when eventually Lucifer brings Adam in as his thrall, Adam is also offered certain protections.

Additionally, there is a special secret sex club called Cluster that is Exclusive for Mutants. Their entrance is hidden and only those who are specifically invited gain access. It's a safe haven for mutants because while it is a sex club, it can also just be a place to relax and feel safe, knowing that there is no fear of being exposed and killed for simply existing as you've been made. Lucifer and Adam do go there frequently, sometimes together and sometimes not. Though they are exclusive in their relationship, there are other reasons to be at Cluster than just sex. Adam seems to disappear sometimes while they're there, but he never tells Lucifer where he went or what happened while he was gone. Lucifer is concerned but has accepted that he's not going to get any answers, no matter how much he may ask.

Just some fun extra notes:

Players go by Street Names and telling someone your real name is a Huge show of trust and is in itself a form of intimacy. Lucifer goes by Serpent and Adam goes by Exorcist. They call each other by their Street Names usually, but when they're alone they revert to their more intimate names.

Adam is a hypersexual adrenaline junkie who gets turned on by violence and Lucifer indulges him by letting him run wild, especially when there are people who need to be killed for one reason or another, and then takes care of him in private after. He also has metalphilia and craves the feeling of metal inside him, whether that be via piercings, implants or metal sex toys. Lucifer has also decided to indulge this part of him by getting dick piercings. It's a lot of work to keep his guard dog satisfied, but Lucifer is willing to do it.

Lucifer wasn't allowed to drink from someone outside of the cult so he never got to drink Adam's blood until he agreed to become his thrall and went through the joining ritual. And then he discovered that actually he really likes how Adam's blood tastes when his veins are coursing with adrenaline. He typically drinks directly from him when they're having sex after Adam fought and/or killed some people. Adam likes it too because he gets reminded how vulnerable a position he's in and how Lucifer could so easily kill him if he chose to.

Lucifer has recurring nightmares and has a tough time sleeping, but Adam can help him relax and sleep more peacefully. He's kind of a wreck if Adam has to leave him for a few days for whatever reason.

Adam is in charge of prostitution but essentially they just take over another pimp's turf (usually killing them in the process) and Adam gives the sex workers a choice. They can continue doing sex work but Adam actually takes care of them and doesn't enforce monetary quotas and while sex works still isnt the best, he's the best pimp they could have since he protects them from shitty johns and doesn't force them to do anything they don't want to do. Alternatively, they can choose to leave sex work behind and start working for Adam as part of his crew and doing odd jobs and such and getting paid enough to manage their own lives.

Lucifer works with a back alley clinic providing trafficked organs. Certain times if he has to kill people personally, Lucifer will siphon out their blood for later and get the corpse picked up by the clinic, no questions asked. They're on good terms and he relies on them if anything happens to himself or Adam and they need medical attention

Lucifer doesn't remember that he has a daughter. And he doesn't remember that his daughter is the one he's meant to rescue. That the reason he was willing to give up all of his memories was to be able to see his daughter again. But even though he doesn't remember, he does know that any of the sick shit that happens in Cinci that involves kids makes him ill and anxious, and Sometimes he will choose empathy because he gets the feeling that there is someone who would want him to.

Lucifer and Adam are in a Dom/Sub relationship. Lucifer awakened Adam's inner sub by domming him once and Adam's never been the same since. Adam would never let any other person top or dom him, Just Lucifer.

I think that covers most of it! I am, of course, open to any and all questions!

( @libby-for-life enjoy this long ass break down)

[rabbit-flaying]

A Taste of Paradise chapter one

Content Warnings: pet whump, drugging, kidnapping, carewhumper, emotional manipulation, manipulative whumper and whumpee, dubiously consensual intimacy (nonsexual), mild xenophobia

Note: Thanks a million to @kira-the-whump-enthusiast for being my editor a few months ago. And I am once again apologizing for my disappearance.

Ezra roused himself from a deep sleep. He didn't feel all that well rested, but foggy in the mind and disconnected from any sense of physical touch.

The first thing he noticed was the lavender. A sweet but bitter edged smell, too natural to be a common fragrance yet too strong to come from a growing plant.

It reminded Ezra of a field trip he had taken as a teenager. They had gone to see a lavender farm, which had been a snooze fest until fire caught a tree on the farm and they had to evacuate.

He realized, then, he was laying with his head on someone's lap.

Someone was playing with his hair.

Ezra's eyes shot open, revealing that he was anywhere but his apartment. Rather, he was laying on a sofa in a cozy sort of living room, in the snug embrace of a knit blanket.

A fire flickered in the hearth, despite all evidence of the home's electricity like overhead lights and electrical switches on the walls. The lights weren't in use, for more than enough sunlight streamed in through the windows.

He had never been so comfortable.

"Ah, awake at last. How lovely."

The voice evidently belonged to the man playing with Ezra's hair. His tone was calming, despite bearing a Russian accent which Americans were conditioned to distrust immediately. Ezra felt this gut reaction to be unfair, but he wasn't in any mental state to start unpacking it.

Ezra sat up and rubbed his eyes, bringing the world further into focus. But all he could comprehend was the firm hand on his shoulder, holding him still and showing affection in the same instance.

His company looked familiar, despite Ezra's certainty that they had never met. He looked to be about forty, maybe older, smile lines etched on his skin and gray streaks in his mousy brown hair. His glasses were circular, in a style that hadn't been popular for a long time.

Ezra had never missed time or lost memories before, and was suddenly sympathetic to people with regular dissociation. Maybe this was what his online friend Isadora was always joking about.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Sorry, sorry, that's rude, isn't it? I've never woken up in some guy's house before. Not that kind of a person- Wait, sorry again. Who are you?"

"It's quite alright," the man said. "My name is Christopher Vadimevich. And I already know who you are, my dear Ezra."

"Christopher Vad- what?" The need for clarification embarrassed him. He always gave people hell for not being able to pronounce Arabic names, but now he was stumped on a Russian one.

"My apologies. Most Americans don't use patronymics, do they? My name is Christopher Kotev. But just Christopher will do."

Ezra tried for politeness. "Nice to meet you, sir. I don't know what's happening here. But my job at Safeway probably isn't going to give me more sick leave just for having amnesia. So I'd better go now, if that's alright with you."

"Oh, stay awhile." Christopher's smile reached his light brown eyes, looking perfectly genuine despite his strange words. "I'll make you some tea, and I have borscht almost done cooking."

Ezra inhaled deeply through his nose, the smell of lavender proving nearly as overwhelming as his confusion. He definitely had amnesia.

Was this Christopher taking care of him?

On that note… What year was it? Covid came with awful time loss, of course, but surely it still had to be 2021.

He would just have to play along. Every problem had a solution. His whole life had been spent finding them, no matter how tough things got. And besides, no horror movie was ever set in a cozy home with Tchaikovsky playing from a vinyl record.

This couldn't be too unpleasant, now could it?

"Well?" Christopher asked. "Won't you stay for lunch?"

"Yes, I sure will." Ezra forced a smile, mentally rewinding their conversation. "Um, what's borscht? I'm totally pronouncing that wrong, but anyway. What is it?"

This was just like him. Missing the forest for the trees, and in turn even missing the trees themselves in favor of their leaves. He had always been one to fill in the center of jigsaw puzzles before doing the edges. If he was eating with a stranger, he may as well ask what's on the menu.

"It's a sort of stew," Christopher readily explained. "Very popular in Russia after potatoes were brought over from Americas. Everyone makes it differently, but all with beets and cabbage and such things."

"That sounds nice. I can't remember the last time I had stew."

"Come along to the kitchen then. It's almost done."

Christopher stood up, and Ezra automatically did the same. He didn't complain when Christopher put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the kitchen. 'Sit still and look pretty' was second nature, especially in confusing predicaments. And besides. What choice did he have?

The dining room looked straight out of an edition of Home and Garden. It got put to proper use, with ceramic plates in the sink and children's crayon drawings held to the fridge with magnets.

But still, it was squeaky clean, not a speck of dirt in sight. Ezra hadn't mastered the art of making soup without spilling on the stovetop, but Christopher evidently had.

A light blue cloth draped over the table, and on it was a centerpiece of a golden angel standing on a lace doily and holding two unlit candles in her hands. Flowerpots sat on every windowsill and other available flat surface. Mostly lavender, of course, alongside forget-me-nots and jasmine.

Ezra felt painfully out of place. But he sat at the table anyway, with his back against the wall so he could watch Christopher busy himself in the kitchen.

"It's so nice to have company for lunch," he was saying. "I get lonesome by myself."

"Well… I'm happy to be here," Ezra lied, taking a stab at lightening the mood. "I mean, I can't complain as long as you're feeding me, right?"

Christopher chuckled. He was filling his tea kettle with tap water. "You sound like my family. About only time I see them is for Sunday lunches."

Ezra didn't hesitate before baiting his line to fish for any information he could reel in. "Your family? I don't know anything about them."

"Oh, you know." Christopher set the kettle on a burner, and lit a petrol flame beneath it. "I immigrated with my parents when i was ten years old. From Soviet Union, of course. I have five- I mean four siblings. Lots of nieces and nephews, as you can tell by the front of my fridge. And a husband who forgets I exist if I'm not in his direct line of sight. But no kids myself. Very normal sort of family."

"I don't really talk to my family, you know. But yours sounds nice." Ezra cleared his throat. "You have a husband? Sorry, I don't mean it like that. It's just surprising." He could feel his cheeks warming unbearably. "Wait no- I- I'm gonna shut up now."

Christopher turned around, giving Ezra his full attention and a warm smile. He seemed to understand what it meant to a young man with no offline friendships, to meet another queer person.

"Nothing you could possibly say could compare to my mother," he said. "Believe me, I've heard it all. So, to answer your question, that's right. I was married seventeen years ago."

"That's nice." Ezra decided to change the subject. This wasn't going anywhere. "Can I admit something?"

"You may tell me anything you like."

"I don't know who you are. I think I hit my head or something. Maybe you should take me to the hospital." His voice was growing shrill. "I already joked about amnesia, but I was trying to wait for my memories to come back and they're not."

"Oh, my dear Ezra," Christopher said softly. "We've never met."

Christopher set a steaming bowl of stew in front of Ezra. The broth was bright red, and chunks of potato swam in it along with shredded vegetables and beef. Christopher set his own plate across the table from Ezra, and returned to the kitchen for what he had missed.

Ezra processed the revelation, trying to make it fix all the problems that had started when he woke up. But it didn't work. Instead, he was left with more questions to sort out.

The longer he tried to solve this puzzle, the more pieces he lost sight of.

Now there were glasses of water on the table. He watched Christopher scrape sour cream into his borscht, turning the broth a milky shade of pink.

"Then why am I in your house?" Ezra had apologized for being rude so many times already, and didn't feel like repeating himself again. "Who are you?"

"My name is Christopher Vadimevich Kotev. Yours is Ezra al Farrah. I've known you for a long while. So I am finally making our introduction. You are in my home, of course. And you have nothing to fear."

"You know that saying I shouldn't fear makes me more afraid, right?" Ezra fidgeted with the hem of the tablecloth while he spoke, trying not to relapse into his old habit of nail biting. "You do know that? Don't you?"

"What I mean is that I'm not going to hurt you. Enjoy the stew, and I'll make tea when the kettle starts singing."

"Then I can go home?"

"Why would you possibly want that?"

Ezra wanted to call Christopher stupid. Of course he wanted to go home. Who wouldn't?

But the question begged to be answered. Ezra hated his apartment. And his roommates. And his job. Not to mention every other cord that made up the tapestry of his life.

"Because I don't trust you." The only conceivable answer. "And you probably kidnapped me. What more do I need?"

Christopher took a sip of water before responding. "Well, I am a doctor. So if the drugging has any long term effects, please tell me. I know how to treat such things. You're in good hands."

"I don't remember being drugged. But I guess they fucked with my memory. That's the point. I'll let you know about any nausea or dizziness."

"Good good. Other things to look out for are headaches, muscle soreness, and a sensitivity to light."

Ezra finally realized just how similar he and his captor were when a problem needed to be solved. He had been roofied, so now they had to deal with lingering symptoms. It was only logical. If only he could figure out how to use their shared attention to details above the big picture to his advantage.

"I know that you're allergic to onions, so I left them out of the stew." Christopher shook salt into his own. "You should try eating. I know you must be hungry. And drink some water. It'll help flush the drugs from your system."

Ezra did as he was told, tilting back the glass to drink from. Drinking water seemed much easier than eating, at least for the time being. He found himself parched as though he had never tasted water before. He finished the glass, which barely satisfied him. Christopher proved nice enough to refill it at the sink.

"You know everything about me, apparently," Ezra said bluntly, refusing both to make eye contact. "From my preferred name to my allergies. So now I get to ask you some questions."

"I'll answer your questions as long as you eat. Would you like sour cream or salt?"

"No thanks. And you sound like my grandmother, by the way."

Despite his complaints, Ezra found his first bite of borscht very pleasant. He had never tried beets, and figured they must be the source of its unusual flavor.

He wolfed half the bowl down before giving himself any opportunity to talk. Maybe he was hungry after all.

"How long have you been stalking me, anyway?" He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "And how have you been doing it?"

"A few months now. Since last February. And my methods were rather traditional. Following you around, eavesdropping, and all like that."

"You're very calm about this, aren't you? Ugh, nevermind. Next question. Why me?"

"People watching is a hobby of mine, and we frequent the same library. I've never been so invested in someone as I became with you. You were always going out of your way to be helpful and kind. Yet no one around you ever showed appreciation. It seemed so unfair, watching you struggle to make ends meet but still tipping cashiers and waiters whenever you could.

"I wanted so many times to help you, but I never knew how." Christopher reached across the table and held Ezra's hand. "This is my solution. I am going to give you a taste of paradise. Our own little Eden."

Ezra marveled at the butterflies in his stomach. He must have been crazy, the way he smiled at the man who had kidnapped him.

But in a perverse way, this was everything he had ever wanted to hear. He had always hated himself for the way he chased after attention. Now those feelings had increased sevenfold. No good deed went unpunished. He knew that fully well.

But maybe this punishment wouldn't be too unbearable.

"You're insane," he managed, forcing the smile off his face. "I mean, have you gotten checked out? This isn't… normal."

"I have 'gotten checked out'. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Nothing that disconnects me from reality. I'm not unstable. This was all very well thought out."

Ezra had to laugh as he pulled his hand away from Christopher's. It was a strung out and shrill sort of noise. "Right, of course you have the same personality disorder as me. I bet you knew about our twin diagnosis already. Explains so much."

"What do you think it explains?" Christopher was finished with his stew, and folded his hands politely on his lap.

"I know what you're doing, so don't act sly. You're being nice to me. Nobody else does that. They just call me annoying. You're screwing with my unstable ego to get me to like you. Why else would you be talking to me like this? You're obvious."

"Your generation with its pop-psychology…" Christopher slowly shook his head. "People may have taught you that your natural desire for kindness is something to be ashamed of. But I know differently. I want to be kind to you. I want you to be happy. And yes, I do want you to like me. But that isn't my sole motivation."

"Well- I- I know how your brain works. Why have you decided that I'm worth your time? I must have done something that you decided was special."

Ezra hoped his compliment fishing wouldn't be called out. After all, Christopher also knew how his brain worked.

"I don't know how to explain my feelings towards you. But I want to make sure you eat well, and show you the affection you're lacking. Is that so difficult to understand?"

"Yeah, it is." Ezra shoved his dishes forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Because you're going to get sick of me eventually. Everyone does. I'm manipulative and obnoxious and- well, you get it. I can't cook. I can't clean. I can barely hold a job. You aren't going to get anything out of me but a healthy dose of frustration."

"Your worth does not lie in your labor or how well you comply with societal norms. I see something beautiful in you, even if you cannot. So let go of all your anxiety and just let this happen. I love you, my dear Ezra. And this is what matters."

Tears burned the corners of Ezra's eyes as they fought to escape their imprisonment. He couldn't believe he was crying. It felt so stupid. But no one, not one person in his entire life, had said anything so kind to him.

More than that, he couldn't remember the last time he had heard the word love from someone who didn't revel in sarcasm or insincerity.

He still had his wits about him, despite the tears in his eyes, and he didn't want to delude himself too badly.

Christopher didn't really love him. This was just an obsession, something Ezra himself was quite familiar with. But as long as Christopher kept talking like this, semantics hardly seemed to matter.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Christopher said, still sounding all too kind. "I really didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," Ezra managed, trying not to cause inconvenience with his feelings. "I'm fine. Don't- Don't worry."

But now Christopher was by his side and not listening to any of his excuses. He hugged Ezra, leaning down and quite literally giving him a shoulder to cry on. Ezra clung tightly to him, desperate for the affection he had craved for so many years. He would stay like this forever if he could. Overwhelmed by joy and the smell of lavender perfume.

"Is this my fault?" he croaked, knowing how nonsensical it must sound.

"That makes it sound like this is a punishment… But no, I suppose not. This is my responsibility entirely."

"And I'm not allowed to leave?"

"Of course not. You need to stay here. You're a beautiful and fragile thing, and I will not allow the world to mistreat you any longer. You'll be better off as a pet, of sorts, than anything you were before."

This was all Ezra's brain needed to rid him of his doubts. After all, he couldn't be blamed for any of this. He wasn't giving up entirely. When opportunity knocked, he would escape through the door it chose.

People would have to be sympathetic when he told them all that had happened. He didn't even need to play the victim. He was the victim.

"I'll stay with you." Ezra bit back his tears. "You've been very kind. I couldn't possibly think of leaving now."

"I'm so happy to hear that. I love you." Christopher released Ezra from the hug, and smiled down on him. "All I'm asking from you is obedience, and you're so good at that already."

"I love you too," Ezra lied sweetly. "Thank you for everything."

A light screeching sound filled the kitchen. The boiling water sounded as though it were in pain, steam desperately escaping through the small slit it had available.

"I'll make tea." Christopher returned to the kitchen, looking as happy as a proverbial clam. "Now, do you like sugar or honey?"

Taglist: @inbloodandtears @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @i-eat-worlds @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @parasitebunny

So I went and forgot like the entire taglist after I erased my entire internet presence. I'm going off memory. And for some people, I remember you, but damn I cannot recall your username. If you would like to be added, please tell me!

[crossdressingdeath]

Lord Enver Gortash: You have the Netherstones - they resonate with my own. Lord Enver Gortash: I commend you for putting an end to Orin's madness - she must be screaming bloody murder in the Hells even now. Lord Enver Gortash: How was the reunion? I trust you demonstrated your particular spark of creative genius? Lord Enver Gortash: I always preferred your methods to hers. You have mastery over your Urges, Orin was consumed by her gruesome obsessions. Kyvir: My Urges are gone from me, as is any trace of Bhaal. Lord Enver Gortash: I'm surprised Bhaal allowed you to slip away from his grasp. But this changes nothing. Lord Enver Gortash: With me, you will have power greater than Bhaal could have given you, and you will bow to no master. Lord Enver Gortash: My involvement with Orin was never a true alliance. A mad dog understands the yank of the leash and the hand of its master, but it cannot be an equal. Lord Enver Gortash: You can be my equal.

I know people have talked about this before, but the way Gortash's immediate response to learning that Durge has fully rejected Bhaal is "This changes nothing" is so good. Even aside from the ship fodder of Gortash basically pulling an "I don't care about that, it's you I care about" it also makes a huge amount of sense if you think about it! Gortash doesn't like people killing just for the sake of killing, he doesn't seem all that fond of Bhaal in general, and he consistently praises Durge first and foremost for their restraint and ability to control their Urges. It feels less like he's choosing to maintain his alliance with them despite the loss of their connection to Bhaal and more like he allied with them in the first place despite them having that connection to Bhaal.

But I love how his first response is "I'm surprised Bhaal allowed you to slip away from his grasp." I mean, first off if you've got All The Brainrot like I do you can read it as a "He let you (the jewel of his collection) slip away?" sort of thing. I doubt that's the actual intention of the line, but it's fun to think about. But it can also be read as an implication that Gortash has known—or at least suspected—for some time that Durge wasn't serving Bhaal entirely willingly. After all, if he's surprised to learn that Bhaal "allowed" Durge to slip away from him that means he didn't think Bhaal would do that. He also doesn't seem to be surprised that Durge would want to reject Bhaal's power, just that Bhaal let them get away with that. Obviously it depends on the Durge, but the whole thing gives the impression that they may have confided some of their doubts in their old friend over the years. And the concept of Gortash being the only one who knows that pre-amnesia Durge wasn't as much of a gleeful, amoral monster as the companions seem to assume they were is just so good.

I'm also obsessed with the Chosen of the god of tyranny immediately choosing to assure Durge that if they stick with him they will bow to no master and have more power than Bhaal could ever give them the moment he learns they've turned on their father. On its own I'd assume he was lying, but with everything else he says... it really does seem like he means that. He decided that Durge is worthy to be his equal presumably years ago, and whether they're Bhaal's Chosen or not he does not regret that decision!

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (MLC longfic again!)

Now that my amnesia fic is posted, it's time for more of my MLC longfic! At long last, LLH is awake again . . . and not doing that well.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

CW/TW: Panic attack, bicha flare, suicidal ideation

Something was different. The pain was there as always, waiting to devour him whole once he acknowledged it, but there was something else, something blanketing it, muting it somehow.

Li Lianhua stretched out his senses like a limb and tried to make sense of it.

Ah. Warmth. That was the strange sensation. Warmth–heat, even–all around him–his back, his chest, his legs, even his fingers, which had been more like blocks of ice than flesh and blood these last few months.

He leaned back, pushing into the banked heat behind him. The solid core of warmth tucked against his front from navel to neck twitched, then pressed against him more securely, as though it could make a home for itself inside his sternum, ribs, and spine and heat him from within.

He felt warm everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere.

He rolled forward slightly, wiggled further down on the bed, and tugged the core of warmth up higher. He curled his arms and shoulders around it and nestled the bit in his hand between his face and the pillow until it cradled his cheek. 

Much better.

He smiled into his new, warmer pillow and let himself start to relax back into sleep.

“Xiangyi?”

The warmth against his face gradually took shape as his skin and mind began to wake. That was a finger–no, several fingers. A hand. A large hand. And those calluses–how could he not know them when they had clashed steel with him, choked him, clinked brimming cups of wedding wine with him, even been inside him, taking him apart with a gentleness he hadn’t known they could profess.

He let his awareness spread throughout his body, setting aside the pain, and yes, that was a-Fei’s chest he had pressed himself against, like Huli Jing requesting head scritches, and those were a-Fei’s legs, tangled with his, and that was a-Fei’s breath rustling his hair–less now than it had been a moment ago–and that was indeed a-Fei’s arm he was clutching like a child would a favorite toy. 

But a-Fei had been holding him first.

Why was a-Fei holding him? It was one thing to wake up in each others’ arms in the newly wed room, after their  . . . exertions. Before a-Fei knew that any real dream of a future was doomed to fail.

But to hold him now? After he’d given away the wangchuan flower and left a-Fei behind, left their promise behind? To hold him like he still mattered. Like he wasn’t a curse who killed everyone he’d ever cared about. Like he was some sort of treasure . . .

Treasure . . . 

Cabinets stained in blood, Xiaobao’s blood–

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, flinging himself free and to his feet. Where was Xiaobao? He had to find him, had to heal him, before it was too late–

“Xiangyi! Sit down!” A-Fei caught him as his legs buckled and lowered him back onto the bed. 

Why wasn’t Xiaobao here? Had he killed him, too, just like he killed everyone he cared about? 

“Duobing,” a-Fei roared. “Get in here. Now!” Callused fingers cupped both sides of his face, turning it gently but firmly toward him. “Xiangyi, look at me. He’s alright. He’s on his way.” 

“How could he be alright?” Li Lianhua gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the already blurry world turning more hazy. “I saw the blood!”

“I healed him. He’s safe,” a-Fei said, cradling his head as though he could hold the shattering pieces of his mind together. “Now breathe.” 

Li Lianhua choked on an inhale, his lungs spasming, only managing to draw in a desperate wheeze.

A-Fei cursed and dropped to his knees by the bed, pressing one hand to Li Lianhua’s back and the other to his chest, filling both with a familiar warmth that began to break apart the iron bands strangling his throat and lungs. “Try again. Feel my hands. Press against them when you inhale.”

The next breath shook and spluttered like a dying candle but some air squeaked through nonetheless.

“Good.” A-Fei gave his back a short supportive pat. “Again.”

Lotus Tower shook as footsteps pounded toward the bed. “What’s wrong?” panted a beautifully familiar, impossible voice. “Xiaohua’er?”

“Bicha,” a-Fei growled, rising from the floor to kneel on the bed at his side, his hands still bracketing him on either side. “He thinks you’re dead. Show him the scab.”

“Shit,” the Xiaobao-shaped hallucination cursed. It seemed especially cruel of hallucinations to now match the blurriness of their surroundings. It made them seem far too real.

The hallucination knelt at his feet and took his hands. “It’s me, Xiaohua’er,” it said, tears in its eyes and voice. “I’m alright. A-Fei healed me. See?” It brought his hand up to a spot on the back of his skull and pressed his fingers to a crusted, raised line on its scalp. “I’m right here and I’m alright. Do you believe me?”

He could feel it. Why could he feel it? His fingers had always passed through hallucinations before. And even when he’d dreamt of Xiaobao, or of a-Fei, of holding them again, it hadn’t felt as real as this. His fingers traced the ridges of the scab–a perfectly neat seam–then the silk curtain of hair that covered it. 

This was Xiaobao’s hair. The texture, the thickness, what he could see of the color–no hallucination could do justice to this. 

This was his Xiaobao.

He was alive.

“Xiaobao,” he cried, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was the only injury. “You’re alright!”

Xiaobao’s bright smile shone through despite the haze his eyes imposed on everything. “Told you. No harm done. So focus on taking care of yourself, ok, lao huli?”

Li Lianhua huffed out a wet attempt at a scoff and bopped the side of his head. “No harm? What do you call this?”

Xiaobao captured his hands with his and brought them down from his head to rest between them. “Less serious than a Bicha attack. How are you feeling?”

Li Lianhua blinked. A Bicha attack? He turned his attention inward to his qi, and–

Ah. There was a-Fei’s Beifeng Baiyang, somehow wrapped around his Yangzhouman and pushing the last of the poison back into the recesses where it would lie in wait, coiled and ready for the next attack. The black tinge was almost gone from his veins.

He had been so worried about Xiaobao that he hadn’t even realized.

A-Fei had probably saved his life. Again. 

He shouldn’t have bothered.

[radarsteddybear]

[For the Anastasia AU ask game] Back to the Future? (I mean, did you expect anything else from me...?)

Send me a piece of media and I'll tell you how I'd do an Anastasia!AU for it!

Oooooh, that's going to be tough because I've only seen the film once and that was probably...somewhere around 10 years ago? But let's give it a go. (I apologize in advance if this doesn't actually fit.)

In order to keep the royalty element, I'd stick Marty and co. in a fictional country that recently overthrew their monarchy and replaced it with communism. The country is buzzing with the rumor that the youngest of the king and queen's three children survived. Meanwhile, Marty, as above, has amnesia and is trying to eek out a meager living while trying to piece together who he is, only having bizarre flashes of memory fragments to go off of--fire, nearly being run down by a strange-looking car, blinding flashes of light, the sound of tires squealing against the pavement. He arrives in this fictional country's version of Twin Pines, where he finds himself drawn to Doc, former Scientist to the Crown, who's now working as...something that is definitely not science and is unquestionably beneath his ability/skill level. Doc, much like Marty, exists on the fringes of society as the sort of person that everyone else tends to avoid because they're different and weird and tend to say stuff that doesn't make any sense and are probably doing things that could probably get them in a lot of trouble with the law. Which Doc is, by the way. Doing things that could get him in a lot of trouble with the law, I mean. Idk what he's doing exactly (probably multiple different things), but he's doing it to earn money to fund his scientific experiments and hopefully get out so he can relocate to somewhere he can have the freedom to pursue his scientific endeavors.

Now, this next part's a bit tricky, because Doc is, at heart, a very kind person who would absolutely never intentionally do anything that would ever hurt his good friend Marvin (or whatever the heck's going by at this point in time), but let's see if we can make this work. Soon, what remains of the government in exile announces a monetary reward for whoever finds the Lost Prince, Marty McFly. This gets Doc's brain going, and he starts to put some details together in a rather "I've connected the two dots/you haven't connected shit" sort of a way. Dates line up, places line up, and the kid even sort of looks like the lost prince. And if he is the prince, the reward money is more than enough to get Doc (and Marty, because Doc doesn't really think through the idea that Marty being the prince would lead to their separation) out of this fictional country and set them up with the tools and equipment to do Science™️. Doc uses his knowledge of palace life to teach Marty how to be a prince as they make their way towards Fictional Country #2 where the government in exile is currently exiled. Marty slowly begins to regain more and more of his memories, though they don't paint the happiest picture.

After they arrive in Fictional Country #2 and start to prepare to meet with the Fictional Country #1 Government in Exile (which is mostly going shopping for snazzy new clothes), Marty starts to realize that, this whole time, Doc has been more motivated by money (and freedom) than by the idea that Marty actually may be the lost prince, that Doc has been twisting the facts in his mind to fit the picture he wants to paint. And Doc starts to realize this, too, and he is absolutely horrified because, again, he'd never do anything to hurt his friend, and now...he has.

And just before realizing this, Doc also realizes that, if Marty is the Lost Prince (which Doc hopes he is, after all this), Marty is going to stay in Fictional Country #2 to take his place as the exiled king leading Fictional Country #1's government in exile as well as take his place in Europe's royalty. Sure, maybe they'll still get to see each other here and there, but it'll never be the same; they'll never again get to live in the same world.

Marty is understandably angry and decides he needs his space. Doc decides that the best thing he can possibly do is respect this, so he wishes Marty the most genuine, heart-felt "good luck" he can and starts making arrangements to return to Fictional Country #1 (because without the reward money, he can't afford to start a new life in a new country; there also a definite element of some self-flagellation in there as well).

I guess Biff gets to play the role of Gleb, working as an agent for the government of Fictional Country #1, which has a vested interest in not having any of the members of its former royal family return from the dead. Biff's mission is to either bring Marty back to Fictional Country #1 to be made an example of (if he's not the lost prince) or kill him (if he is). So at this point, Biff has been following Marty and Doc for their entire journey, and this is the moment he chooses to make his move, having determined that Marty is, in fact, the lost prince, and therefore he needs to die.

Marty, of course, isn't going down without a fight. The ensuing fisticuffs somehow catch Doc's attention, as he's still nearby and hasn't left yet. He joins in the fight, probably with the help of an invention or two, and quite literally throws himself in front of Marty to protect him from Biff once Biff reaches for his gun. Biff doesn't get the chance to fire because Marty is able to use whatever invention Doc brought along to defeat Biff once and for all (he doesn't die, of course; he just ends up getting arrested by the proper authorities).

Doc and Marty hug it out. They don't have to say much to convey their apologies to one another. They decide to ditch the whole lost prince business and find a place for themselves in Fictional Country #2, starting from scratch, because they don't need much as long as they have each other.

[loquaciousquark]

I finished my Durge run! Got that Tactician achievement too, hoorah. Lots of thoughts about the Dark Urge/Astarion romance under the cut.

My final thoughts now that I've finished it - it's fine. Honestly? It's fine. I think there are some interesting parallels drawn specifically for his backstory with Cazador compared to the Dark Urge trying to resist the urges, but I didn't come out of the romance feeling like it was the end-all be-all One True Romance version for the character. I think there are some interesting dialogue lines ("is today a 'wed you with a delicate veil of blood staining your white curls' kind of day?" made me laugh every time), and it's definitely fun to see some major hurt/comfort vibes play out on screen in the attack-the-romance scene, for sure. That said, I didn't feel like there wasn't anything in that romance I couldn't get for myself with a dominate spell and 4k words of fic with a Tav I like much more.

And like, there's nothing at all wrong with the Dark Urge background! I think it's really interesting to have that internal struggle kind of flavoring the run, and of course it makes sense to have strong Bhaalspawn ties in this particular canon. I think the stuff that's added with Isobel and Scleritas and Orin is very interesting and it definitely added depth to to the Sarevok interactions, and even the conversations with Withers had a lot more nuance! I can definitely see why some people call it Tav+, because it is a customizable character with a lot of extra dialogue options that a regular Tav doesn't get.

That said, the particular type of character that Dark Urge is is one that's not as compelling to me, and setting that up against Astarion's arc felt correspondingly less compelling than the Tav arc I made on my first rogue run. I've played amnesiac characters with a twist before (KOTOR) and in that game I found myself similarly uninvested in the character to the point that I went full Dark Side with her very early in the narrative. To date, she's the only evil main character I've ever intentionally played! There's just something about that blank slate background that doesn't appeal - I find that my characters are generally very strongly shaped by their histories and backstories, even if the details of those backstories develop over the course of the game. They make choices because of who they are and what they've experienced and who they've lost and loved, and I find it hard to create a character with a consistent internal moral needle when there's no backstory to guide it.

And I guess that's part of why the Resist path for the Durge just makes me internally go ???? Because realistically, if I've spent my entire formative life being excitedly murderous, ritually necrophiliac, gleefully cannibalistic, and generally not very nice, why does the amnesia change that? Why would that character want to become something else? How do I internally justify a character making that sort of MASSIVE ethical and moral shift just because of a brainworm and a knock on the noggin? I get that it's fun as a player to try to play a good character with these unexplained evil urges, and I totally get why it's narratively satisfying to see good arise from the ashes of corruption, but I just can't find a way to make the character want to be good in the first place! I had this problem with Revan and I've had it again with the Durge, and that foundational schism was just something I could never really overcome enough to buy into the immersive fiction of the character.

Plus, as far as the Astarion romance goes, I think the Durge arc generally pushes into that similar need to resist the uncontrollable commands given to you by an outsider. It's very much the same space. The thing is, Astarion tells you he knows how important it is to resist those compulsions in the night attack scene, but--we KNOW he couldn't! We know he tried for two hundred years and never once could defy Cazador, and it broke him so badly he gave up resisting at all. And there's some interesting parallels there maybe, that he wants so badly for you to succeed that he's willing to ignore two hundred years of his own personal history, but it puts a pretty despairing tinge to the whole first half of the romance arc. And honestly, that makes me very sad for him.

I think it's just again a less riveting pairing. The Durge/Astarion romance is about both of them overcoming external compulsion through inner will and good choices and white-knuckled defiance, except the timescales of those compulsions are vastly different. And maybe there's a little bit of needing to depend on each other's support to do that, but it's not really so for Durge; you can do the entire Bhaalspawn questline without having Astarion in your party once and you only lose out on a few lines of dialogue. He definitely cares about you, sure, and he can talk to you about how worried he is for you, and that's nice--but there aren't a lot of times where his emotional support is directly critical for you to overcome your urges. On the other hand, I think it's arguable that your friendship (and relationship) with Astarion are directly responsible for his success against Cazador with that last persuasion/insight check combo. If you could have his emotional support be more directly impactful in terms of your ability to resist the urges or Bhaal in Orin's temple, I think I'd be more on board.

In addition, I find two characters going through the exact same narrative arc at the same time not as interesting. Like, if Astarion already had beaten Cazador before the Durge stuff happened and he could directly talk about what was successful for him and help you along the way, I think that might honestly have interested me a bit more. The mirrored arcs we have instead are a little less fascinating than complementary ones. And honestly, there's something about Durge trying to relate to Astarion's centuries of struggle with their own, like, two days of fighting that compulsion, that feels just a little pfeh to me.

And maybe that's why I liked my original Tav so much? As I developed the romance with Astarion, I could shape elements from her backstory (and the way she changed and grew from those events) to make a character that I felt resonated complementarily with Astarion's arc and emotional needs. I could create a character whose defining trait was hope and had always been hope her whole life, because I feel like that's a useful trait to have against an LI who explicitly lost all hope in any rescue. A character who has stubbornly clung to hope throughout a miserable broken life and a miserable broken family paired against a character with a similar background who's lost that hope and has to relearn it--I like that! I like that the characters can teach each other things and can learn from each other. I like that they can make each other better by sharing aspects of themselves that the other person doesn't have.

Having a hopeful Durge doesn't feel the same, because first, that hope is incredibly recent and only comes out over the course of the game because right before the game started, they were still full murderbaby. It's not as longstandingly stubborn despite setback after setback over many many years the way I can have Tav be. And second, again, I can't figure out why an otherwise perfectly content murderous bastard would ever want to hope for anything else after taking a fall off a skyship. I guess that's my biggest problem, that I can't get into the fiction of the character at its baseline well enough to build anything of substance on top of it.

So now, having gone through both the Tav/Astarion romance and the Dark Urge/Astarion romance, I can definitively say I prefer the Tav version. I think the extra stuff you get in the Durge run is fun, and I think the Durge material itself is great and wonderfully tied to the lore outside of the romance, but in terms of the Astarion romance itself, it's just not as captivating. Too similar in the wrong ways and too disjointed in the ways that matter most, and I'd rather have a Tav I can build to fit what I want, someone I can shape to draw out the elements of his character I'm most interested in exploring.

I will say that at one point my Durge sorcerer did roll a 44 on a persuasion check at one point, which was extremely exciting. But I think I'll be going back to my "canon" rogue Tav on my next game to figure out that exact story now that I know her much better, and that'll almost certainly be the one I stick with for future fics.

[measurelessdreamer]

Do you have a scene you really liked but weren't able to fit it in a fic? Would you care to share? Do you have a most recent favorite line or scene? What is it?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

I'm one of the writers who start up tons of stories at the same time and never finish any of them, so, more than scenes I weren't able to fit, what saddens me is that some of my stories had really nice moments in them, that were actually written, but because I could never finish the fic or even finish some part of it that could be shared with other people, they sort of just stay in my docs, haunting me. There are two post-mountain break-up geraskier fics I was writing a long time ago that I feel particularly sorry I never continued. Neither was very long (one had 8k and the other only over 3k words), but I really liked the premise of both and I wanted them to become real stories, but they were both building up to be long fics and I had other stuff to write at the time as well and by now I haven't even looked at them for two years. The longer fic saddens me more and I still like to think that I haven't completely abandoned it, but the hope is minuscule these days.

With scenes that I had in mind at some point and I didn't manage to put them in... usually, I just like the alternative which turns into the final product much more and so I don't mourn them so much. I don't think if I can think of a single example right now, which, considering what I wrote in the previous paragraph, is kind of a relief haha.

As for recent lines, well, I have been having a bit of a hard time writing lately, so they are not recent per se, but they are the most recent ones I actually like? If it makes sense? They are more like passages, though, so that's why they are a bit longer:

(unpublished) Ch4 of my royjamie amnesia fic:

“Fine, let me rephrase that. I want you to tag along.” Jamie snorted and his eyes glowed with mischief. “Wouldn’t say no to helping an invalid. My mum raised me better than that.” “Oi!” Roy said, far more loudly than the non-existent distance between them warranted. “Fuck, man,” Jamie said after a grimace and Roy laughed and Jamie shook his head and kissed him, not stopping for a peck or a breath of air. He licked his way straight to Roy’s brain and Roy felt him absolutely everywhere and nowhere at once. Never in his life had he imagined that kissing Jamie Tartt could feel like this and that he would ever get to feel it. His hands tightened around where he was holding onto Jamie’s hoodie as he felt them go forward. He had no idea whether he was pulling or Jamie was leaning forward of his own accord but now he was lying on the grass and Jamie’s hands were on his waist and none of it rang any bell, but it still rang true. So much so that he’d almost forgotten where they were in the first place.

The (also unpublished) continuation of my Éomer/Faramir post ROTK fic:

Because he needed the solitude, needed to feel the cold air on his face instead of the warmth of the hall that felt almost scorching when it had Faramir orbiting inside and saying all the things Éomer had heard numerous times and still had no intention to heed. But were this the only hardship he’d had to face, he wouldn’t have lost his nerve. He hadn’t lost it with Elfhelm even though he had to face Elfhelm's opinions on this matter almost daily, and he hadn’t lost it once when Aragorn kept insisting that the Mark had only to call for aid and Gondor would answer. His blood wouldn’t boil the way it did now, and his instincts wouldn’t be so akin to fleeing.

They are both pretty out of context, but I really like them and I really hope they get to stay in my final versions of these stories. Otherwise, they would be the ones, I would actually mourn lol.

Thank you so much for the ask! I wish you an amazing day!

[ronanziriano]

So. Um. Now that I've already got a few hundred posts on this blog, I should probably go ahead and make an introduction post. That's usually the order for this sort of thing, right?

You can call me Ronan. My pronouns are he/they. I'm a Scorpio and am an adult, and this blog is definitely very much for adults only.

My interest in and feelings toward whump is definitely very, uh, unconventional? Based on what I've seen around the whump community and others' intro posts, at least. Sort of a combination of a kink and a coping mechanism and a way to confront fears and a thrill-seeking thing. I dunno.

I'm aroace and sex- and romance-repulsed, which probably isn't exactly obvious based on, you know, everything. Especially the fact that a lot of the content here is very NSFW. I guess the thing is, at least for me, I see nsfwhump and non-con as such a completely different thing than sex? It's approached in fiction in such a vastly different way, and a way that's more relatable. Seeing non-con portrayed as something traumatic and horrific, I can understand. Seeing consensual sex portrayed as something beautiful and desirable, I can't wrap my head around.

I like the aesthetic of BDSM, and have done some self-bondage on my own time. In fiction and art, I have absolutely no interest in things that are safe, sane, and consensual. I engage in it in a way that's more about fantasizing. Playing pretend. Imagining that I am the whumpee, being captured and tied up and gagged. In real life, that's obviously going to be the means of enjoyment. But in fiction, that layer of pretend isn't necessary and just gets in the way.

Anyway. I do also enjoy plenty of whump stuff that is perfectly SFW and non-kinky, and I enjoy the occasional kinky thing that wouldn't be considered whump. But there's a lot of overlap between the two. Makes more sense to keep it all on one blog.

I've been a longtime lurker and only recently decided to jump in and make a tumblr of my own. I have tried my hand at art and writing, although I don't know whether I'll actually ever share the results. I don't know that people would be particularly interested in things I create.

I will warn, I'm, well, very picky when it comes to whump enjoyment. Less so when it comes to art than writing; just, writing has a lot more opportunity to include details that end up hurting my ability to enjoy it, while art just has the space of a single image to shoot its shot. That being said, here are a few of my favorite things:

Non-con/rape

Creative torture devices

Defiant whumpees

Slave whumpees

Whumpees who are humanoid but not quite human

Aroace whumpees

Restraints and gags of any variety

Objectification

Kidnapping and captivity

Blackmail, extortion, whumpee having to go along with the whump under extreme duress

Sensory deprivation

Public or broadcast whump

Body modification

Tight spaces/claustrophobia

Asphyxiation (including drowning, strangling, suffocation, etc.)

Mind/body control

Fantasy/sci-fi scenarios

Blood and the removal thereof

Cruel and unusual punishments

Whump where medical accuracy is more of a polite suggestion than a rule

Some things that I'm really not interested in:

Romance/shipping

Villain whumpees or whumper-turned-whumpee

Lady whump

Non-humanoid whumpees, including robot whumpees

Um... let's call it "bathroom activities"

BBU, and any whump where the whumpee doesn't resist or try their best to do so

Amnesia, memory loss, brainwashing

Comedic/crack whump

1st- or 2nd-person POV

Live-action media, particularly photography

I have a page here that lists the topics I always tag for, as well as topics you will never see on this blog under any circumstances. If you decide to give me a follow and there's a trigger or squick that you want me to tag, just let me know.

And, you know. Also let me know if you've got content that you think I will enjoy. I want to consume.

In conclusion:

Hello.

[eternalflashh]

nahida, irminsul, and representations of cognition throughout: an analysis

As the god of wisdom, it is probably intuitive that Lesser Lord Kusanali is depicted as someone omniscient, uber wise, indomitable in logic and without flaw of reasoning. More often than not, though, throughout the archon quest and story quests, we have been shown some of her shortcomings, from her lack of knowledge in certain aspects, and her susceptibility to certain forms of trickery. In this brief analysis we discuss aspects of human cognition and learning, and compare them to aspects from the story, providing evidence for the contrary—that, perhaps, there is no better representation of wisdom in the challenging nature of Teyvat than a god like her.

(Note: I do not claim to be any sort of expert in the topics I discuss here; this is merely a subjective analysis based on what I've learned of cognitive psychology and observed in canon. And, as with everything else I do, I did this simply because I was bored and I like overthinking things. Read at your own discretion.)

To me, Nahida, Irminsul, and Sumeru's stories are almost like this… super well crafted personification of working human intelligence itself. On a larger, fantastical scale, of course.

We know that the Irminsul is Teyvat’s repository of information—basically the brain. We know that Nahida is a branch of Irminsul, a part of that brain. And, well, this “brain” is actually represented in ways that are almost quite realistic, in many senses.

For starters: one of the most important functions of the brain is that it acquires information—that it learns. It accumulates knowledge, and while neurons do break down (and are not easily replaced, if ever), information is actually quite robust and does not “disappear” easily, besides the natural decay of time. There have been cases where people have lost part of their brains to accidents, yet retain their memories and even cognitive functions intact—the brain is actually far more malleable than one may think.

And in fact, you don’t “unlearn” things. You can’t “remove” things from your mind as easily as you imagine it—most of the time, when you “unlearn” or “extinguish” something, you really are just learning a new association that counters the old one. This new association takes time to develop, and spontaneous recovery often occurs—it takes time to “unlearn” something, or to “relearn” concepts. In life, we often have to correct our false preconceptions (not just in science!) and adapt to an ever-changing world—this constant process of unlearning and relearning and correcting is, essentially, what makes us “wiser”—the more we know, the more we understand. It is a constant growth of the mind. 

Nahida, then, being the deity of wisdom who rules over all knowledge, is a form of being where regular learning processes in cognition are essentially amplified: there is no normal degradation of “memory” (as things are stored in Irminsul reliably); there is no loss of information, and yet Nahida is still able to learn new concepts and understand how they relate to the old ones, revise her understanding based on most recent evidence or events. Basically, she learns quicker than mortals with minimal risk of decay; she is a god, this element of hers (arguably) understandably exists. 

But we also know: Irminsul itself is not perfect. We know that memories of Irminsul have, indeed, been deleted or altered. Of course this could easily be chalked up to the fantasy aspect outside of the analogy, but this could still be explained in terms of regular brain anomalies. Deleted memories could be analogous to memory loss in a sense (anterograde amnesia, cf. retrograde amnesia), while altered memories are, in fact, pretty common in real life—perhaps even more so than memory loss, for various reasons pertaining to heuristics, bias, and preconceptions—even though we tend to not realize it at all, unlike the glaring effects of memory loss.

Putting aside the why’s and how’s for now, memory loss is typically more noticeable than altered memory, but either way, the brain can actually accommodate for memory losses/alterations by bending to fit the “narrative” they previously had. The brain doesn’t like inconsistencies and gaps—it will try to explain something in the most coherent way possible with whatever available facts, which is actually a helpful adaptation to have in case we cannot obtain every piece of data we need. (The phenomenon is most common in terms of visual gaps, but is also prevalent with other senses and also with memory. For more, look up constancy bias.) Though, of course, in the case of memory loss or alteration, this isn’t necessarily a good thing. But in fact, this is what Irminsul does—it restructures itself accordingly with what facts are available, constructing a “coherent” narrative that, as we know, is false.

From this, we’ll be branching out to two points. The first is that Nahida’s existence aligns with this analogy in the sense that the removal of knowledge from Irminsul (of which she is an avatar of) is representative of the “weakening” or “shrinking” of the brain. As mentioned previously, this is not in the physical sense, for the case of the brain—but because Nahida is the physical representation of the abstract brain, then it makes sense that she shrunk during the eradication of forbidden knowledge. She lost all that knowledge gained—it would have mean her “growth” and “learning” has essentially reverted, hence she returns to a “younger” form of who she once was (see Nahida’s 2nd SQ) (though in act 5 of the AQ, it was Rukkhadevata splicing a branch off Irminsul itself, the image still stands that what’s left of the knowledge once forbidden knowledge has been taken away is not much). 

Now what, exactly, forbidden knowledge is, we don’t know yet, but how it affects the brain would not be so much of a mystery—there are pieces of insightful or revolutionary findings that can influence plenty of one’s beliefs, or the way one sees and interprets the world, which would then change the way one process information and generates new thoughts in turn. For example, imagine that one day you wake up with the existence of “blue” gone from your mind. Nothing is blue to you—things that you would once call blue will look greenish-yellow to you, even the feeling of “blue” will simply be called “depressed”, or something else, but nothing in the world will be blue to you. That simple “removal” can change a lot of things from how you perceive to how you describe, which is why the effects of removing forbidden knowledge can take a huge toll, or at least a huge change, on Irminsul—hence the big metaphorical brain, hence Rukkhadevata, hence Nahida.

And second, what happened to “Irminsul” being perfect? We cannot call Irminsul a repository of “perfect” knowledge, i.e., that every information it contains is true to the core, because we know the information stored in Irminsul is faulty and malleable. In fact, Irminsul being “perfect” is with respect to its functionality as a brain, as a system. Theoretically, when exposed to true information, a perfect brain should contain only true information. But we know there are forces beyond Teyvat, ones that Irminsul inherently can’t capture/perceive (e.g. the twins). It’s like us not being able to understand a dolphin’s cries, or the color vision of a shrimp, or anything beyond three-dimensional vision—this is inherently the nature of Irminsul itself to not capture that information (with exceptions I'll come to later). Irminsul is still an essentially “perfect” functioning brain, but inherently not designed to capture that beyond its scope. Which then would make sense why it can be altered or robbed of memories in such a way that it would not “break”—it can self-regenerate, it can still function brilliantly. It thinks it functioning perfectly fine means it’s still intact, when in fact, it has been contaminated with false information without it even realizing.

Back again: this is very much like the brain, like human cognition. Because rational humans make judgment based on the available facts, this becomes a problem when your facts are wrong. Usually, with humans, there is a degree of confidence to which you would know whether what you know is right—but if you have a “perfect” brain like Nahida theoretically does, or at least a very highly functioning one, you would have little reason to question your brain. And that, is in fact, her pitfall.

As we've seen from Nahida's second story quest, because she doesn’t have all the facts, she has to make do with what she knows. And she still does that sufficiently, as her godly capabilities should allow. But she also makes decisions that quite mirror her old ones: wanting to eradicate the remnants of forbidden knowledge herself, willing to lose her power and revert her own evolution in favor of apep’s health. One would not make the same decisions if they’ve learned the catastrophic price for it—Nahida is, alas, uninformed now, so she proceeds to make the same mistakes. If it weren’t for the traveler, Nahida would have so easily fallen into the same rabbit hole again; this is what happens when you “erase” memories, or revert time—you are only bound to repeat old mistakes. 

Here I’d also like to briefly mention that because the traveler did not have a good justification for stopping Nahida (they couldn’t, after all), it’s likely that Nahida would not “learn” why this was a bad idea, if not out of sole trust. As in, without the traveler’s continuous intervention, it is highly likely she would fall into this pitfall of her old mistakes one day… or would she?

Aside from her and Irminsul’s story being a very nicely fitting metaphor to the brain, she actually also represents cognitive strategies very well in her speech & personality, which solidifies in the metaphor very neatly. One major thing I'd like to point out is her constant use of analogy—which may sound like a gimmick or just a random personality trait. But in fact, in cognitive research, analogical reasoning has been shown to be a robust predictor of effective learning and success. So the fact that she often spits out seemingly random analogies out of nowhere isn’t just a random trait, but rather, a sign that she is constantly abstracting commonalities between distinct phenomena and learning about them effectively (in contrast to rote memorization). 

This is, in fact, an incredibly important thing—as you might’ve already realized—because it combats the dependence on memorization, which we’ve seen is a problem given the inherent state of Irminsul and malleable memory! And we’ve seen these analogies play a very important factor in the progression of the AQs and SQs, like when she transcribed the truth about Scaramouche/Wanderer in form of a fairytale to preserve it from being lost to the void, or how forbidden knowledge was altered into a different form—the oozing stuff in the Chasm. This is such an important aspect of Nahida’s character because it shows that she understands that the power of transformation or abstraction transcends that of simple mass erasure, and can be used as a manner of preservation. Quite literally, the power of analogy was used to show Nahida’s expertise not only through merely being knowledgeable, but also through creativity, just as its role is in the world.

And most importantly, it does imply that she realizes the shortcomings of her “brain” aka Irminsul. (I hypothesize it’s either an effect of her memory loss (memloss on a wide scale, like retrograde amnesia, would show “loss” effects instead of adaptation, like the symptoms Nahida exhibited) or Dottore’s intervention of telling her about false skies, that makes her realize how much she doesn’t know.) Perhaps this, even, is what Rukkhadevata meant when she said “you will be a better archon than I”, because she already has ways of overcoming these past cognitive flaws as well. This—this realization that your brain can be functioning perfectly and still be flawed, exactly because of its perfect nature—this is the invisible yet solid distinction between being knowledgeable and being wise. And this is why Nahida is the god of wisdom, rather than just a library that contains every information in the world.

In sum: Irminsul and Nahida is a really nice representation, whether intentional or just by pure coincidence and overreach on my part, of a "perfect" functioning brain in a world of unreliable information, and Nahida's ability to abstract hidden symbols to preserve truths addresses this issue quite admirably. All of this nicely manifests in Nahida through little quirks that may be overlooked, but (I suspect) may be very significant to her character and the development of the future plot. Thank you I am Done

[justkending]

Finding Memories. Chapter 24.

Series Summary: Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader 

Word Count: 2200+

TW: Torture, cussing, gore, PTSD, triggers.  

A/N: I know this one is kinda short and leaves on a cliff hanger, but I promise the story to come will be worth it :) Enjoy and as always, I love to see what all you guys think! XOXOXO

Chapter 24:  

“Feels like I missed a lot today,” Steve sighed as they went a few feet further down the hall to not have her eavesdrop. 

Bucky had been giving him a rundown through text when he could during the day, but he gave him all the details in person now.

“You missed everything,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. “It feels like everything that’s brought us to this point is minimal compared to everything that came up in the last 24 hours.” 

“How is she doing?” he questioned, looking in the direction of the room. 

“I think it’s a lot on her shoulders right now,” Bucky answered honestly, looking at the same door. “I think she hasn’t had a fraction of the time she needs to process it all, and with how fast everything has happened, she doesn’t think she’ll ever have the time to catch up.”  

“Something like this isn’t figured out in a day like it may need to be,” Steve agreed. “Maybe we’ll be graced with the time to get it all sorted before a big fight breaks out, or maybe we’re already behind.” 

Bucky turned to his friend seeing genuine dismay on his face. He didn’t like that his comment was true, but it needed to be voiced either way. 

“You think something else is going to happen before we can prepare?” Bucky asked. 

“I think with the track record that her enemies have created so far, we may have a day or two before they send their next agent in, but I can’t really make that kind of call on this side of things.”

“I feel like we’re sitting ducks,” Bucky groaned, leaning on the wall as his brain was on autopilot trying to come up with solutions. Then he decided what his next move was. He held up a hand, standing straight again. “Do you think Tony would let me borrow his cabin for a bit?”

Steve knew where he was going with that. 

“Do you really think moving her from the most protected place is the best idea?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“She’s already been attacked here. Is it really the safest place?” Bucky countered. 

“Compared to a cabin in the woods? They already showed that their willing to infiltrate a highly armed facility with weapons and security to last. What makes you think a cabin in the woods would be safer outside of being somewhat hidden?”

“I don’t know, ok,” Bucky let out an annoyed moan. “I just hate sitting here waiting for their next move. We don’t know what it’s going to be. How do we prepare if we just wait for them to sneak up on us again?”

“You were out on the trail. The trail is probably the easiest spot to get jumped across this property. It’s not like they sneaked in your room-”

“That’s exactly what they did,” Bucky gave him a straight face. “Remember? The smell, Y/N’s lotion, density changing mutant?” 

“Ok,” Steve relented showing it wasn’t a great example. “But what’s the likelihood of them having two of those.” 

“Wanda was a twin. They both had powers that fulfilled their mission,” Bucky came back with again. 

“OK! Jeez, I get it. The cabin is sounding like an option, but still. It’s not the only or best option. Maybe give it some more thought before you pack her up and head to the woods.” 

Bucky’s face showed he was putting more thought into it, but only in the one idea, Steve was trying to steer him away from. 

“It’s like talking to a brick wall,” Steve said flatly and placed his hands on his hips before looking down. “Look, you’re tired and haven’t had a break just as bad as Y/N. Maybe go sleep on this and tomorrow when both of us have clearer head spaces, we can discuss your options.”

Bucky broke out of his planning and nodded after processing what his friend was saying. 

“You’re right. I need to sleep,” he turned to the bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Steve said goodnight and they headed back to bed. When Bucky opened the door, he wasn’t sure if he’d find her awake or asleep. But luckily, she was out like a light and curled up to the pillow she had found solace in earlier. 

He couldn’t help the sad smile that marked his lips as he saw her position in a fetal-like ball and her arms strangling the navy-covered pillow. 

He grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and gently laid it on top of her. He turned off the lamp closest to her and moved to the couch where his side lamp was the only light illuminating the room. 

Looking over the couch he watched as she snuggled closer to the pillow and wrapped the blanket closer to her face. 

He was happy to see that the exhaustion from the day was helping her relax some, even if it came from stressful and traumatic experiences. For now, she was finally resting and that’s all that mattered. 

_________________________________________

A large gasp broke Bucky out of his REM sleep. He didn’t remember falling asleep that hard, but when he blinked open his eyes he noticed just how heavy they were. 

Trying to break out of the spell of his body actually being able to shut down, he sat up and looked where the noise came from. 

Y/N sat up in the bed panting as she quickly threw her legs over the side. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky’s voice came out raspy and dry. She didn’t answer, but tried to even her breathing and threw her hair out of her face. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” 

He was looking in her direction, but he was still trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. 

“I had a dream,” she sputtered out. Her hands were clutching the edge of the bed and the bedspread was wrinkling under her grip. “Not like my normal ones.”

“How so?” Bucky yawned, sitting up and moving to stand. Even if he wanted to go back to bed, he couldn’t until he figured out what had her freaked out. 

She looked at him and then back at her feet as if hesitant to explain her minds nightmares. 

The truth was when she first got there, she had had PTSD dreams where they were based around her traumas, but random things would interrupt them showing they were just dreams. 

Like after they had watched Star Wars; Return of the Jedi, the sand monster had opened a sink hole the facility she used to be in and started eating everyone in it’s path. She was able to get away, but she felt like she was running in quick sand. 

Those dreams were bearable to the memories that seemed to start flooding her mind the more the traumas came back to her. 

Eventually, the dreams stopped and only real and terrifyingly accurate memories played at night. 

But this one was different. 

“Maybe it wasn’t a dream,” she mumbled, talking to herself as she tried to understand what she just saw. “It wasn’t a memory though.” 

Bucky was slowly waking up and stood stretching a little before shuffling over to her. 

“Nightmare?” he asked, voice still groggy. 

She still didn’t respond, but instead got a pull to go to the door that led to the balcony. Bucky quorked and eyebrow at her ignoring him, not because he was offended, but because he wasn’t sure where she was going with this. 

Then he thought back to the night before when that strange thing with the sky happened while she was sleeping. He never had time to think much about it, and honestly, he brushed it off after crazier shit hit the fan. 

“Y/N, you ok?” he asked as she looked mesmerized by the sky as she walked to it. 

“I just need to,” she started, but never finished her sentence. 

“Y/N…” he dragged out, suddenly becoming more conscious of how uneasy this was making him. He took careful steps behind her making sure the distance was minimal between them.

Once she reached the door, she stopped and froze with her hand on the handle, staring up at the night sky that was cloudy seconds ago, but now becoming clearer. 

Bucky watched in concern, yet shock, at how she seemed to be the one doing it as she concentrated looking at the dark almost black sky. 

Then as if the stars had been reminded they were meant to shine, they lit up in a flash before going back to normal just as fast. 

Y/N seemed to snap out of her trance and she released her grip on the door hand, stumbling back slowly. 

She looked like she’d been socked in the gut, and was holding a hand to her abdomen.

“What just happened?” Bucky asked, coming up to her side and looking in her eyes for any kind of clue. 

“I-I don’t know,” she said out of breath. “I saw, a, um,” she stuttered as she tried to formulate in words what she just experienced.

Bucky studied her and placed his hands carefully and slowly on her shoulders before lowering his head to see her eyes clearly. 

“Are you ok, or do you need-?” He stopped midsentence when she looked at him with sheer fear in her eyes. 

“It was a diversion.”

Bucky was taken aback by her seriousness that overcame the fear and confusion from mere seconds ago. 

“What was?” he asked calmly. 

She looked from his shirt back to him and it hit her. 

“Oh, my God,” she sucked in a breath. “It was a diversion.” 

“Y/N-” She turned quickly and without a second to process Bucky was chasing her down the hall as she banged on Nat and Wanda’s door one after the other. 

“Wanda, Nat, get up!” 

“Y/N, what the hell did you see?” Bucky was a step behind her as he watched her frantically bang on the doors. 

“He was sent to distract us,” she mumbled under her breath as she moved back to Wanda’s door and looked down the hall frantically. “Gabriel wasn’t the real threat.” 

“Someone who can walk through walls and become invisible was a diversion? Not the real threat?” Bucky tried to put it all together. 

“What’s going on?” Nat asked, opening her door and Steve peeking out of his own room too. 

“I don’t know how much time we have, but we can’t waste anymore,” Y/N gave her a look, and whether she actually knew the problem or not, Nat didn’t hesitate to believe her. 

Wanda opened her door in the next second and looked exhausted, but tried to wipe it off her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” she asked forcing a yawn back. 

Y/N didn’t even have to say anything this time and Wanda’s eyes widen once she actually looked at Y/N. 

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed,” Y/N nodded and started walking down the hall at a quick pace. 

“Wanda, do you know what-?” Bucky asked, trying to get something clear. But she waved her hand and in an instant, he knew what Y/N was seeing. “Shit.” 

“What?” Steve jogged to catch up with the four. 

“Remember how I said we were sitting ducks?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

“Remember how I said we needed to be far from here?” 

“Yeah…”

“Wouldn’t have worked. They’re already here,” Bucky answered with a stern look to him after they stopped at the elevator with the girls. 

“But-” Steve started and power let out a low hum as if shut off and the emergency lights brightened. 

“They’re already here,” Y/N said looking up at the lights and her body tensed. She turned to Wanda and silently communicated with her. 

“Already on it. Go,” she waved her off, and Y/N gave her a head nod before taking off down the hall in a trained sprint. 

“Y/N!” Bucky turned to chase after her. 

“Don’t. She’s got it. We need to get suited up,” Wanda put a hand out stopping him. 

“She shouldn’t be on her own,” Bucky argued. 

“I don’t think you realize how little time we have to argue that. But for now, I’m going to tell you to get suited up and then we can hunt her down,” Wanda pointed at him with an arched eyebrow. If he didn’t listen, she would make him. 

Bucky knew she was right after learning what woke her from a dead sleep minutes ago. But that didn’t mean he was ok being told what was best, especially when he didn’t agree. 

“Come on,” Steve patted his shoulder and nodded toward the rooms to get suited up. “We aren’t much help if we aren’t prepared.”

He looked back at Wanda pulling Nat to her follow her and gave an unsure nod. 

“Meet us in the basement. She went down to tell Stark,” Wanda instructed. “And boys,” she stopped as they turned back. “Hurry.”

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[quibbs126]

I feel like the more we see the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, the more the prologue doesn’t make sense

Like, from what the prologue tells us, the Five Heroes fought against Dark Enchantress Cookie, then Dark Enchantress takes the five Soul Jams and they’re shattered, and in the wake of her and Pure Vanilla’s spell clashing, the five heroes, Dark Enchantress Cookie, and the Vanilla Kingdom all disappear (also the rest of their kingdoms are supposed to essentially crumble over time, but that’s less important)

And the game seems to go for the most part with this up until the reveal of Dark Enchantress Cookie’s true identity as White Lily Cookie. But honestly, I think that’s fine. Honestly I think it does work with what the prologue shows of her. Yes there’s now the confusion of why there’s essentially two White Lilies, but there’s also been evidence to show that there’s more to this story that we don’t know, and that there will be an explanation. Everything else however seems to be as we were told

In Pure Vanilla’s storyline, things seem to still line up. Now that Dark Enchantress Cookie has been freed, so have Pure Vanilla Cookie and the Vanilla Kingdom, and while we don’t see it, you could assume so have the others, but perhaps they were just scattered to other corders of Earthbread, hence why we don’t see them. Nothing contradicts that they disappeared too. Pomegranate also mentions how the Soul Jams are in shattered pieces across Earthbread, which we also know from the prologue. She also says that the spell going wrong between him and DE cursed the other Ancients, and yes, he calls it lies initially, the following dialogue implies that it’s true and that he was just telling himself that he didn’t

There is the question of how he suddenly has his whole Soul Jam back, but that’s like the only major contradiction, and it’s not one that’s really touched on. But overall things generally hold up

It’s at Hollyberry’s story that things start to get confusing. Now it does still use the “Soul Jam is shattered” thing (and is frankly the only one to keep that fact, aside from at the end where the Soul Jam suddenly becomes whole again but shush), with her shield’s pieces having been reconstructed over the years, but it’s the other things that start to contradict. For starters, Hollyberry didn’t seem to disappear as a result of the Dark Flour War, rather her disappearance seems to be that she left of her own accord, presumably sometime after the Dark Flour War, implying that she did not disappear. Also her memory problems aren’t like Pure Vanilla’s, since she seems to remember who she is, at least to some degree (I feel like it was very selective what she did and didn’t know, and the whole thing confuses me), but I suppose that doesn’t really matter as Pure Vanilla’s amnesia may just have been some sort of trauma defense thing, and thus just personal to him. I mean, Dark Enchantress remembers who she is

…I felt like I had more contradictions for her, but now I feel like the only major one here is that it’s implied that she didn’t disappear, but she stayed and went back to her kingdom

Oh wait, there’s also the fact that the Hollyberry Kingdom is fine and prospering, other than the whole dragon thing but no one seems too bothered by that. The whole idea that the world is suffering without the Ancients, specifically their own kingdoms, or that they were ever absent, just doesn’t feel like it’s there

But now let’s move on to Dark Cacao’s storyline, which I feel has the most contradictions

Hollyberry’s story feels a bit ambiguous whether the Ancients disappeared, but in Dark Cacao’s it outright says no they did not. Dark Cacao has been here and nothing implies he ever left, at least not for a significant period of time. Also, he has his whole Soul Jam, and again, nothing implies that he lost that or had to reconstruct it. He’s just had it the whole time. Both of these directly contradict the prologue

And while yes, his kingdom is suffering, and it’s partially because he lost his way, it wasn’t because of the Dark Flour War, rather this seems to have been a much more recent development with Affogato Cookie and particularly Dark Choco’s betrayal and exile. While some evidence may suggest things got worse for them after the Dark Flour War (in Dark Choco’s memories, his younger self seems to imply that the kingdom is isolating itself and is worse off for it), but things didn’t reach that breaking point until after Dark Choco’s banishment

Maybe that’s why the Dark Cacao storyline feels weird to me, because the conflict didn’t start because of things that happened in the Dark Flour War, nor does that seem to have had much effect on Dark Cacao or the kingdom, but rather it was because of something entirely separate

But yeah, going back to how things are presented to us now, the Ancients, other than Pure Vanilla alongside Dark Enchantress Cookie, never disappeared, their Soul Jams might have remained whole and with the heroes, and all the kingdoms seem to be doing fine (Dark Cacao’s not so much, but that’s due to external forces). So basically, pretty much all the points we see in the prologue don’t add up

Honestly at some point I start to feel like what happened in the prologue didn’t actually happen and rather that was just a fabricated story, and that we end up seeing what really happened

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hi, I'm George, and I suppose I'm questioning whether or not I am a system. I'm not sure if this is the right place to come for this, but I saw some similar asks on the blog, and doing this myself has been very frustrating, so I figured I might as well try. So I occasionally have these very strange dissociative episodes, where I have these intense screaming arguments in my head with myself. I spent a long time thinking they were just auditory hallucinations, but I'm not so sure about that anymore. In the past year or so I've been under a lot of stress, and some of these arguments have turned into almost calm conversations where I actually start sorting problems out. I've noticed in these conversations I'm both an active and passive participant on both sides, if that makes sense. In addition to this, I often feel like I have multiple identities. I am an atheist, but I sometimes strongly feel I am part of religious groups that I have literally nothing to do with. I'm also transmasc nonbinary, but sometimes I get the idea that I should be transfem, which is always very confusing to me. I will occasionally refer to myself with we/us pronouns on accident, but other than that I've never had the common symptoms of plurality, like amnesia, or people I don't know knowing me, and I'm running out of other explanations. Again, I'm not sure if this is the right place to come, but I couldn't find a better place, and therapy isn't an option for me right now. I'm just not really sure what to do or where to go, so any resources or insight you might be able to offer would be a huge help. Thank you : )

Hiya, George! So we’ve got a few things we can say that might help you :3

Since it sounds like you’re questioning things right now, the best resource we can give you is our resource post for questioning systems! It has a ton of links to articles with info on a bunch of different kinds of systems and plurality. It’s a great place to start for anyone hoping to learn more about multiplicity! >w<

Honestly, we’re not going to be able to confirm or deny whether or not you’re plural… sorry about that! >_<” But! What we can say, is that amnesia is not a requirement for plurality! And as far as dissociative amnesia goes, it’s possible to experience it without really knowing that’s what’s going on! We’ll link a post we wrote on dissociative amnesia, too, in case that might help! :3

We’re not trying to deny or dictate your experience at all here!! Members of our own system didn’t really know or understand that we were experiencing amnesia before we knew about our system, so we thought it was worth it to bring this up >w<

In the mean time, while you’re still learning about yourself and whether or not you’re plural, we’d like to say that anyone who feels like the plural framework is good for them is welcome to use it. So you can definitely call yourself plural if you want, as you are! If you find out later that you’re not actually plural after all… no harm done! It’s okay to question, and it’s okay to be wrong, too :33

Um, one last thing we’ll include here, is a post we wrote on establishing contact with headmates. If you’re questioning whether or not the voices you hear in your mind are other system members, this post might help y’all begin to make connections!

Gosh, we hope that this response here will be useful for you in some way! No matter what you end up deciding or discovering about yourself, we’re wishing you the best of luck with everything!! :3

[fortruechaos]

nier verse notes (mostly for fer for our verse threads) (if you care about nier this has full series spoilers for mostly replicant but also a bit for automata so don't read this if you want to play those games)

shadow is one of the original androids created shortly after WCS started existing, before hamelin, before the human weapons laboratory came about, etc.

gerald is the head scientist...of course...but maria quickly develops WCS and project shadow swings fully into development. i'm gonna use angelus's corpse and maso as a sort of stand-in for the black arms DNA gerald uses in canon. so now shadow is part-dragon...kind of epic as they say

shadow is created and they try to find a way to utilize him to help stop WCS. but because nier is nier and also because shadow's backstory is shadow's backstory, the laboratory is raided probably by hamelin to steal his information to use in the creation of emil and halua and co. of course maria is shot, gerald imprisoned, and shadow is sealed away.

shadow is accidentally awakened in the middle of the war the replicants and androids are having against legion as humanity continues to succumb to WCS.

i have no idea how im gonna adapt SA2 to make sense but shadow more or less goes off on his own a la A2 in nier automata, blowing everything he can up in the process. maybe the black scrawl starts becoming a thing and he realizes if he wants to protect the world maria loved so much he has to start defending it as it currently exists and not as it was. idk

shadow gets seriously injured at some point and goes back under but is later awakened by...some rouge replicant stand-in.....and has amnesia but eventually is able to remember the circumstances of his creation and learns about the proper nature of project gestalt since he was sealed away too early into the world's demise to ever learn any of it from the other researchers

over the course leading up and through the events of replicant, shadow doesn't really believe that fusing the original gestalt with his replicant will just fix things, and more or less settles into a role of a traveling mercenary while still fighting to protect a changing world. but because androids are programmed to want to protect and love humanity he struggles a bit with this and his adaptation of maria's wish over the course of the past thousands of years

post-replicant (fer you can stop reading here), shadow takes a more accord-like role, documenting the time that has passed post-humans for whatever comes after. the machines and androids take his bio-data to create copies (for shadow android stand-ins) so eventually there become more than a handful of wandering shadows by the time automata takes place.

appropriately for his programming, shadow becomes obsessed with getting on the ark in space to reconnect with humanity despite not being a YorHa android nor fighting for any sort of "glory" like those androids are programmed to do, but eventually he learns of its true nature and goes back to just wandering the world while 2B and 9S have the worst time ever. i think i'm gonna make him immune to the logic virus by virtue of him being separated from hamelin and all the other orgs who make the other androids

thumbs up emoji...

i think personality-wise this incarnation of shadow is a little more mellow just due to the adaptation of maria's wish and also because technically i'm writing him like thousands of years set after where i write him "now" in threads in the sonic universe (in my head nier!shadow would behave like how he does in sonic canon around the war with legion and shortly thereafter)

ofc some of this will probably get edited eventually!!