#this bugs me on an indescribable level

[robinthisbank]

It’s so weird to me when people headcanon traits that would obviously go to Soap for Ghost just to make Soap look incompetent. Like no Soap’s not bad at math and mechanics he is the demolitions expert those are things he’s a literal professional in

[gallaghersgal]

okay okay, hear me out. marriage of convenience trope between carmy and uncle jimmy's daughter

hi dev bee !! thank u for the req my love <3 warnings; angst then comfort, hint of mean carm, then soft carm. very very very soft and fuzzy carm.

marriage of convenience from this trope list. part of my 1,500 follower celebration!

carmen needed unwavering financial support from your father, and you needed your family off your back about marriage. so, the two of you found yourself at the courthouse about a year ago. carmen was sweet, at the very least. he'd sent you with sugar and his credit card to thrift a vintage wedding dress, something you'd always wanted to do. he wore slacks and a navy button up with a white tie, his unruly curls hastily slicked back, one falling down in a spiral by his brow.

you kept your heart guarded to the best of your ability. sometimes it was difficult, when carmen would cook your favorite meals and maintain a level of attention to your needs that had never been met by another partner. all of that, without the romance or intimacy of your previous relationships either. it was honestly the most frustrating thing you've ever dealt with.

one night while the two of you maneuver around your one small bedroom getting ready to sleep, you mention to carmen how your parents have moved past bugging you about marriage and turned to questions about when you'd be having children. your husband frowned, wringing his hands in annoyance. "you knew that would happen when we started this," he snaps. "restaurant's in a good place, i'm paying cicero back, y-you can tell 'im we're separating."

oh. his words bite at you, a few tears welling in your eyes. "yeah, okay." you move to grab your pillow from the bed and keep your face hidden from him, not interested talking things out. you were scared if you spoke you'd say something you regretted. "i'll sleep on the couch."

carmen shakes his head, "hey, don't be like that. this has never-" he gestures between the two of you, a lost expression on his face. "don' look at me like a kicked fuckin' puppy. i'll take the couch."

that night as you lay in the king size bed your father had bought, you realize for the first time how much you'd grown to enjoy spending your nights with carmen. his warmth beside you tends to quell the loneliness in your chest and despite the lack of romantic connection, there's something between the two of you. when your eyes flutter closed you see the indescribable emotion on his face. when your restless body tosses and turns you imagine his warmth beside you.

around 3am you cave, seeking out your husband in the living room. his shoulder is warm as you rest your hand there and shake it gently. "carmen. carmen, wake up," you whisper.

he startles, bleary blue eyes peering up at you. "mmhf, hey," he grumbles.

"come to bed, don't sleep out here."

a puzzled expression crosses his features, "'s'alright, m' s'comfortable." his voice is soft and tired, and your heart swells.

you kneel down beside the couch, fingers gently brushing curls back from his forehead as you gather the courage to speak the words on the tip of your tongue. "carmen, i want you to come back to bed. i want my husband to sleep in our bedroom." you stop there, trying to convey the things left unspoken with the gentle touch of your hand.

and of course, carmen understands without a single word. he catches your hand, eyes locked on yours as he brushes a kiss to your open palm. "we can talk in the morning," he says, lips lifting into a gentle smile. his hand stays in yours as you return to the bedroom, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close once the two of you are settled.

the last thing you hear before drifting off is his voice mumbling, "i think we can make this work."

[bookwyrminspiration]

You are so so so right about the fucked up family dynamics that Wylie and Sophie could have had and I applaud you for that. Want to tell me how her being taken in by Tiergan might have an impact when it comes to Tam and Linh, who, if I remember correctly, were given Wylie’s old room when they came to whatever Tiergan’s house was called (was it Solreef or something else?)

Also, hi Quil!

Zayn 🥌

Hi Zayn! I haven't seen you in a while--I hope you've been well :)

And yes, I would love to. Tam and Linh are implied to be in Wylie's room at Solreef, though it's later called a suite since it's "more like three rooms" (Nightfall 218). From this I'd assume Sophie would live in Wylie's old rooms when she first arrived (since he was in the Elite levels), which has GOT to be difficult all on its own.

For Wylie, the girl he blames for destroying his life is living in his room. For Sophie, she's surrounded by the echoes of that life. Perhaps nervous to touch anything, worried to upset Wylie further--we see she doesn't decorate at Havenfield already, and this could just compound that further.

I'd presume then Sophie'd share the space with Linh and Tam when they move in, which would strengthen their bond. Seeing each other more, more opportunities to talk, more vulnerability. The details. Their sleep schedules, favorite foods, when they do their homework and which subjects they like/hate, what it means when they go quiet, where they like to retreat to, what bugs them most.

This quiet building of such a strong bond, a chance to explore and recognize in each other the feeling of displacement and judgement. Their world hates them for different reasons, but that ostracizing for things outside of their control is a bridge. One Wylie can connect to as well, though on a different level (as it's less HIM and more his family).

Wylie seeing these three kids his dad's taken in, who didn't have anywhere else to go, who he's learned are so good and have been so shunned and mistreated by their world. And understanding, perhaps more clearly than ever before, why his dads made the choices they did.

For the first time, they each have a family who actually understands, in a way. Sophie spent her entire life different, and now here's a group of people shunned for just that, too. Tam and Linh spent their lives with only each other, but now it turns out they don't have to. Wylie spent his tied to a scandal he didn't choose, but now they all have scandals; they're all finding a new life under Tiergan's roof.

That's not to say I think everything would go perfectly--case in point, my whole post about Wylie and Sophie pre-Tam and Linh. There's so much grief and hurt and anger in that house it's bound to grate at times. But in the end the uniqueness of their situation transcends that, and ties them in a way indescribable to others.

And this doesn't even factor in Prentice's return. Forever thinking about the Tiergan, Prentice, Wylie, Sophie, Tam, and Linh household.

[zombiieiinfestatiion]

Both of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hockstetter's bedroom, the boy in question holding an old beaten up shoe box in his lap, dull eyes alight with excitement.

Spidery fingers run across the lid, picking up lines in the thin layer of dust that coated the top. There was a certain tension in the air, indescribable almost.

"Now these," Patrick begins to say, voice heightened as the smile on his face stretches out more than usual. "These are my babies."

The young man cackles creepily as he then removes the lid, eyes glancing up and down, into the box and back to Bowers who sat only a few inches away.

He tilts it his friend's way, a soft thunk of whatever was inside hitting the side of the box, and upon looking down into it, Henry nearly jumped out of his skin.

Inside were several small wooden planks with dead insects pinned down by sewing needles. He could make out a butterfly with one wing slightly folded in, a shiny beetle with its limbs strewn about, and even a disfigured grasshopper.

It sent a chill down Henry's spine, but he wasn't all that surprised, knowing Patrick to be a rather deadly individual when it came to small critters.

"Those are bugs, Pat." Is all he can think to respond with, not doing much to hide his distaste, nose wrinkled up and eyebrows arched.

"My bugs, Hank." The raven chirps back in glee, picking up a plank by random, this one harboring a huge spider that looked only slightly shriveled up. "Ain't they pretty?" The look of wonder on his face was that akin to a kid in a toyshop, except the toys were dead bugs, and the kid was Patrick-fucking-Hockstetter.

"No." Henry never sugar coated his words, and he definitely wasn't going to start now. "The fuck ya showin' me these for?"

"Because!" Bowers' harshness brings out a pitiful whimper from the depths of his throat, yet Patrick's expression doesn't waver as he sifts through the various pinned down insects. "You're my special guy, Bowers. Think of this as if I was your girlfriend showin' ya her lingerie or whatever. It's on the same level, I'd say."

"You ain't my girlfriend."

"An' these ain't underwear."

[chocolaichigoichie]

I am longing for you.

Re-reading all the posts I've posted below, clearly tells how I have progressed as a human, as a soul. I definetely learnt, a lot.

It might sound cringe, but love is indeed something indescribable. It is beyond words. Love helps me learn, experience, and evolve. I acknowledge my flaws and sins which made me grow into me today.

Newest version of me is all about spirituality, the thing I never have drawn before, ever. Crazy how life can turn its direction.

But, looking back the line, it is not some random set of events. The feelings have been always there: to help people, to touch their hearts (whatever it meant back then). It is all to make the mature me today, to support me fulfilling the pre-birth purpose in this lifetime: Tarot Reader.

I thought I would be fit to work as a diplomat or delegates in humanitarian agencies (also in International scale, just because I love being indulged in diversity). Turns out, I still can bring off my desire to stay in touch with those values. Not as the dream I used to think, but as the whole another level of mission.

I love this. I love doing my job, events I got questioned a lot. Haha. I know this is far from conventional. But I feel like home. Just like when I meet you, my divine masculine. <3

Life doesn't stop here when I finally found my purpose. It starts its hardest cycle: in union with you.

Being in this line makes me realize how hard the path is. They said it is the mission I particularly picked myself before I was actually born. Wth did I think lololol. It is indeed a beautiful journey, yet, so, so, so painful. Not gonna lie, I cried more often than I usually did (when I got heartbroken). This is really, indeed, excruciating.

I somehow feel that, this leads to a wiser me, with a lot of patience, to face a greater challenge ahead.

This Twinflame journey is making me beyond crazy. Hahahaha The longing feeling is indefinable. It is non-stop flowing from my heart chakra. Even now, when I am thinking about you. It is a 24/7 connection. "I wonder when," is the question that always bugging me. Am I not patient enough? What else I have to learn? What should I do? I know I have to be patient, surrender, and having faith to God, completely. The 30th birthday I had yesterday just hit another sadness button in my heart. I am so lonely yet not. Because I know you are connected with me.

Pamulang. 3/12/2023. 21:32

[wisteria-html]

I was talking with my partner last night and now will just copy/paste my messages here. So, for your viewing pleasure…

Whether or not The Stanley Parable relates to each TMA Entity

The Buried: Yes. Being trapped and unable to escape, small claustrophobic spaces, and also financial debt which feels tangentially related to the office setting.

The Hunt: Not really? There’s a slight feeling of being prey, being at something’s mercy, but it’s more to do with being controlled than being hunted.

The Eye: Definitely. There’s different levels too, just like in the Archives: Stanley is being watched, the Narrator thinks he’s the one in charge but in reality is just as trapped, and the Curator/Timekeeper actually are the ones in control.

The Slaughter: No. There isn’t really any senseless violence, and no blood is ever shown (except for the one bucket!out of map ending) no matter how gruesome the death.

The Vast: Absolutely not, frankly the opposite. Nothing big or wide open, the most I could give the game is the vertigo Stanley feels from the many falling deaths (zending, control ending, cold feet ending, etc).

The Spiral: Absolutely yes. The Parable feels very similar in construction to the distortion hallway, in both the different endings all leading to the same place and the traveling the same yellow office forever with no escape.

The Stranger: Eh? Kind of? The only other humanoid in the game (excluding the Employee 432 easter egg) is Stanley’s “wife” in the apartment ending who’s actually a mannequin. I also do see a bit of uncanny valley with the Narrator Curator and Timekeeper in that we don’t know whether they are human or something else.

The Corruption: No. Not at all. No bugs, no sickness, no rot—but also no real companionship. The most I could say is that the Stanarrator relationship is fairly toxic, but that’s not because of either of them, more to do with the situation they are trapped in.

The Dark: Again, no. The whole game is lit with fluorescent lights, the darkest it gets is the zending room before the lights come on or just before the freedom ending, both of which only last a moment before beautiful light fills the room Stanley is in.

The Desolation: Also not really. I think that both of them want to “burn down” the Parable, but they can’t. I also can’t think of any fire canon to the game other than the candles in the bucket!apartment ending and the fireplace disguising the elevator in the boss’s office.

Web: Yes yes yes! I think this one relates most of all. Everyone is controlling everyone else all of the time and there’s no way out. The Narrator is controlling the story and the office, Stanley is controlling the Narrator with his choices, and the Curator and Timekeeper are controlling everything from the outside. The illusion of choice is the whole point of the game.

The Flesh: Not at all. No blood except for one ending (the bucket!out of map ending), and the only body morphing is the ‘change yourself’ in the infinite hole ending which is definitely not body horror. Also, again there’s no food so by extension no meat.

The End: Yeah? In that there’s an absence of it? There are unending deaths but none are permanent, everyone is stuck. That’s one of the most horrific parts to me, it feels kind of like the End statement about beating Death in a game and living forever, unable to die.

The Lonely: 100% yes, if anything rivals the Web it’s this. The themes of isolation are super clear, especially in the skip button ending, but even in the normal game the Narrator and Stanley only have each other and there’s a huge disconnect between them. Even though they have each other, they are both fundamentally indescribably alone.

[justagingerwithredhair]

1. My favorite traveler is Temenos! I initially chose him first because of the advertised mystery plot (and I love me a good mystery), but his sassy personality and off the charts bastardom levels were a delight to have as well. His story is also thrilling with captivating twists and turns. I didn't mind the culprit being a bit obvious so long as the story is still engaging.

2. How dare you make me choose just one! I love so many!!! I suppose if I can only choose one, I'll say Clarissa! I think she plays an invaluable part in getting through Osvald's walls and showing the player that his revenge, while justified, is blinding. She's clearly upset with Ethan's fate but she, unlike Osvald, has learned to move on and encourages Osvald to start healing as well.

3. My absolute favorite chapter has got to be Agnea chapter 5. Everything from the setting, the stakes, the characters, and the boss battle all just put a huge smile on my face! Her story is one the last I finished and let me tell you, it was a breath of fresh air after stories like Osvald's, Temenos's, Thronè's, Castti's... you get the idea...

4. My favorite overall path is Temenos's due to my previously stated love for mystery plots.

5. My favorite boss fight is Trousseau's. With Castti's memory restored, the stakes so incredibly high, and the mechanics of the boss putting a time limit on the battle, it all concocted the perfect storm for an unforgettable finale!

6. My favorite optional dungeon is the House Wellows Manor. It's a decrepit haunted mansion with spooky yet mysterious lore. What else can I say to make you fall in love?

7. My favorite default job is the Scholar. Why? Spells. I love me some spells. Some arcane arts. Some witchcraft. Some magics. Hee hee

8. My favorite secret job is the Inventor! (though they are all great and fun)

9. Meta wise, Arcanist Partitio is my favorite because of the Seal of Diffusion + Sidestep combo. But overall, Scholar Temenos is not only a great healer and damage dealer but he also look so dapper! I love his leather peacoat look. I want it. Give it to me.

10. My favorite town is Montwise. An autumnal university town with a giant library and beautiful music? I think I found heaven.

11. My favorite side quest is "A Mysterious Box." It's tied to the House Wellows Manor and despite it's eerie nature, its conclusion is quite heartwarming!

12. My favorite travel banter has got to be "Cleaning Up" with Castti and Thronè.

13. ALL OF IT! ALL OF THE SOUNDTRACK IS GOOD! But some of my favorites are Main Theme (Night), Temenos the Cleric, Doubt Is What I Do, Toto'haha (Night), Empty Memories, Miscreants Melody, Home of Wisdom and Arts, Flamechurch, Sacred Light (Day & Night), every "In Pursuit of (x)" theme and The Journey for (x) Ends theme, Song of Hope, Gil on the Keys, Dark Night, Invitation to Darkness, and Dear Travelers.

14. I chose Mahina but I wish I had picked Akala because it woulf have fit my build better. (sorry Mahaina!) (I still love you <3)

15. I chose the blue paint with the unicorn ornament!

16. Three words: 👏Deal👏More👏Damage👏

17. Temenos and Throné have all of the best friends energy

18. Ochette is NOT 20! She is 12 and NOTHING will convince me otherwise!!!!

19. Crick's death almost brought me to sad tears but Agena's Fin. photo almost brought me to tears of joy!

20. My first "Dark Night" sequence with the creepy music was pretty unsettling. Lostseed was downright bone-chilling. And the reveal of what Harvey did to Rita filled me with indescribable horror.

21. Alrond: Partito... you truly are a charismatic individual. However, my purse strings do not come undone for a smile and a song. Before I invest, I need a closer appraisal of your caliber.

Partitio: Er... do you want me to take my shirt off or somethin'?

22. I can't think of any good anecdotes at the moment, but I'll come back and edit this post if one pops up in my head!

23. I love this game in every way, but there is one thing that sometimes bugs me. The voice acting is absolutely incredible, no doubt about it, but in some scenes, it gave me tonal whiplash. Take Harvey, for example. He is a sinister, conniving monster of a man. He's a liar, an arsonist, a kidnapper, a thief, a plagiarizer, a manipulator, a murderer, and a multitude of other things that I haven't listed. This nutjob is guilty of countless atrocities, yet his voice actor's performance feels so comical. He sounds like a Sunday morning cartoon villain rather than the despicable professor who will kill anyone in his pursuit of power. I just wish he sounded more menacing rather than goofy.

24. I did play Octopath 1, but I never finished the game, unfortunately. But I can say with confidence that Octopath Traveler II has improved on the original in every way possible.

Octopath Traveler II ask game 🧭

Been looking for one of these since I finished the game but I haven't found one, so I made my own :3

Favorite traveler? (And if they were who you started with?)

Favorite NPC?

Favorite single chapter?

Favorite overall path?

Favorite boss fight?

Favorite optional dungeon?

Favorite default job?

Favorite secret job?

Favorite build for [character]?

Favorite town?

Favorite sidequest?

Favorite travel banter?

Favorite soundtrack?

Which companion did you choose for Ochette?

How did you customize your Grand Terry?

Did you have a That One Support Skill that you bought for every traveler?

Best relationship/dynamic between 2 characters (& elaborate!)?

A headcanon for [character]?

A moment that made you cry (or you just found sad)?

A moment that gave you chills (or you just found creepy)?

A moment that made you laugh out loud (or you just found funny)?

An amusing anecdote from your playthrough?

One thing that bugged you / you would change about the game?

Did you play the original Octopath Traveler? (And how does it compare?)

[captainmalewriter]

An Odd Trend

Tiktok, like any other social media platform, was known for its various trends and challenges among its user base. Trends varied widely on any given week from harmless face filters to dancing in the middle of a busy road. Needless to say, a trend can be risky and even deadly if taken too far.

Fortunately enough, some trends never take off due to lack of engagement. Unfortunately, however, one of the latest social media challenges to hit Tiktok didn't need a massive user base to take effect. Even with just two users the trend's effect will activate, and its consequences will be felt.

It was yet another slow day at the gas station for Ibrahim. As much as he enjoyed the easy money, he found himself getting bored very frequently. He took out his phone during a free moment and opened it to no new notifications. Ibrahim wasn't sure what he was expecting when he unlocked it, but he had hoped for at least something mildly interesting. He did, however, notice that his latest Tiktok had started getting attention. He opened the app and smiled at the sight of all his new followers. All he had to do was keep posting gym content. It bothered Ibrahim that most of the people engaging with his videos were men, but he knew a follower was a follower and soon he'll have enough so that he could focus solely on being a content creator.

With his dream of success in mind, Ibrahim decided to capitalize on his free time and make some more videos. He turned on the camera, ready to hit record, only to remember he had no idea what to do. He took a look around but all he saw was the same old convenience store. Ibrahim had already done himself at work so many times, he needed something fresh if he was going to go viral again.

He leaned against the counter as he began to browse the endless list of filters Tiktok had. Ibrahim had once made a recently released filter go viral. Everyone had given him the credit for starting the trend too. He was hoping he could do it again with the right filter. After scrolling for a while, Ibrahim was ready to call it quits for the day. But just before he closed out his phone, a certain thumbnail had caught his eye. It was a relatively simple design: two stick figures with a round about arrow connecting them along with the words "Me & You." Despite how plain looking the thumbnail was, something about it was indescribably intriguing. Out of sheer curiosity, Ibrahim clicked on it. Then, a little infographic about the filter popped up.

"Welcome to the Me & You challenge! Get ready to take getting to know other people to a whole new level! This filter will connect you to another person in live time. After a few seconds of conversation, just hit the button, and get ready for a once in a lifetime experience! Note: This is a beta version. We are actively fine tuning and fixing bugs as we find them. We thank you for your understanding!"

The description was straightforward enough, but Ibrahim was still confused on what exactly the filter was supposed to do. Despite the off feeling Ibrahim was getting, he decided to give it a shot anyway. He figured, after all, that the worst that could happen was his Tiktok would flop.

Ibrahim propped up his phone and hit the button to turn on the filter. He was expecting it to connect right away, but all he got was a buffering circle. As he waited, Ibrahim attended to a couple of customers that walked in. The app connected while he was busy, and he hurriedly finished helping the last customer. He picked up his phone and saw there was just some guy with a cowboy hat on the other end of the video call.

"Hey," Ibrahim said.

"What up," the other guy responded.

Their conversation ended up starting and finishing there. The two men stood around in silence, avoiding eye contact with the other.

"Do you know how this is supposed to work?" the other guy asked Ibrahim.

"No." Ibrahim answered.

Then the two waited in silence again. Luckily, a red button with a 🔄 symbol popped up not long after. Ibrahim saw the button and pushed it without hesitation. He heard a distinct clicking sound coming from his phone when he did so. Ibrahim then watched as the other guy's eyes widened and saw he did something on his end. He then heard the same clicking sound again. And with that, Ibrahim's phone flashed him with an intense bright light, causing him to kneel over to the ground.

Ibrahim was squirming in pain with his hands to his eyes. He could hear the other guy screaming too, but then he heard the call hang up. Not the Ibrahim cared, as he was busy enduring the eye pain as well as a sudden head pain.

A customer had walked in, and screamed at the sight of Ibrahim on the floor. She ran up to the counter and called out to him.

"Are you okay!?"

Ibrahim groaned as he massaged his temples. The pain was gradually going away with the coming minutes. Ibrahim then picked himself back up.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,"

"Oh thank goodness," the woman sighed. "I was worried I'd have to call 911. But I doubt a big, strong young man like yourself would go down that easily."

"Huh? Big? Strong?"

Ibrahim looked down at his body. He began inspecting his body, all while the woman watched with a concerned look in her eyes. She looked at his name tag.

"Ibrahim, is it? Did you hit your head? I think you might have a concussion..."

"Oof... you weren't kidding, I AM big and strong! Check this out!" the store attendant shouted out as he flexed.

The man kept checking himself out, all while the woman watched. The woman kept asking him questions, and soon enough he started giving coherent answers. Then, after making sure he was mentally stable, the woman decided to flee the scene before anything else happened. The gas station attendant was then left all alone again, giving him the space to keep exploring his body.

"Oh man... I'm gonna enjoy this!!" he murmured as he lifted his shirt, taking a closer look at the goods he now owned.

***

Meanwhile, at a local city fair, a guy with a cowboy hat had fallen to the ground after his phone shined a white light into his eyes. Most the crowd ignored the young man rolling on the ground in pain. A young woman, noticing his condition, ran up to him.

"Alexis! Are you okay!?" The woman helped the guy back up to his feet. The guy nodded as he pinched the corners of his eyes. "What happened? Did you pregame or something?"

"What? No, I don't drink," the guy said with an attitude. He took his arm off her shoulder and leaned against a fence to help him keep his balance. He was still disoriented by sudden flash.

"Ha, yeah right," the woman snorted. "And I'm a backup dancer for Ariana Grande."

The guy looked up at her annoyed, but quickly changed his tone when he saw how beautiful the young lady was. Flowing black hair, clear light brown skin, and beautiful eyes. Her curvy figure was the cherry on the sundae; he was mesmerized with her.

"You sure you good?" the woman asked.

"With you here, I've never felt better..."

"God, always the flirt huh," the woman laughed. The man joined in too.

The two then walked together to find a table. The girl led the way while the guy lagged behind. Although his infatuation with her had distracted him, he soon realized that something was horribly wrong. There were tattoos all along his arms, tattoos he didn't have before. He also noticed his nails were painted pink, and groaned in disgust at the sight of it. As he walked, he could feel something on his chest. He rubbed his chest and felt the nipple piercings he now possessed. He soon put two and two together and realized that he was in the wrong body. Ibrahim's blood boiled at the realization, but quickly cooled down when he realized... who would ever believe him? Then, he felt the loneliness start to sink in.

"Look, there's a free table!" the woman claimed the spot and called her friend over. Ibrahim leaned against the table. He had no idea what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. The woman noticed her friend was deep in thought, and reached out to hold his hand.

"Hey, thank you." she whispered.

"Hm? For what?"

"For doing this. I mean, for taking me out. I know I haven't exactly been a good friend lately, but breaking up with Kevin was not easy. I'm just- so grateful to have a friend like you, Alexis. Someone that gets how trash men are."

Ibrahim listened carefully to everything the beautiful girl had to say to him. A girl like her would've dismissed Ibrahim as some scumbag fuck boy in his old body. But with a new body, Ibrahim stood a chance unlike ever before.

"Yeah, no problem. I'm glad I could help, I just want what's best for you."

The young lady smiled, and so did Ibrahim. The two held hands with a gentle grip. Ibrahim noticed how soft his new hands were, and how well they complimented her soft hands too.

"I wish more straight guys could be like you..." she gazed into his eyes. He returned the gesture in full. Ibrahim saw the opportunity, then took his swing at it.

"Hey, I have to confess something... I think I have feelings for you..."

The girl's eyes widened at first, but she quickly shrugged it off.

"That's just the tequila talking-"

"No! I swear it isn't, I haven't had a single drink tonight!" Ibrahim pleaded with her. He technically wasn't lying, and the girl could see he was more or less sober too.

"But... I thought you were gay..."

Ibrahim closed the distance between them. He held her close to him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Maybe... I'm feeling a little bisexual tonight..."

The two held each other close, then the two kissed- tenderly at first, then passionately as the feelings kicked in. With a straight soul in a gay body, arousal followed soon after. The two then left the fair early and proceeded to have the night of their lives.

***

Weeks had gone by since Ibrahim and Alexis became the first victims of the strange body swap filter Me & You. Although both had a rocky start having to adjust to their new lives, both men quickly found themselves right at home with their new bodies. Then as time went on, they had forgotten about ever having switched bodies in the first place. They had accepted and assimilated into their new identities without a problem.

Alexis kept up the all exercise needed to keep his new, muscular physique. But it was something he did with ease, especially considering how much he loved his new body. He took over Ibrahim's Tiktok following and even improved upon it when he gave all the gay followers what they wanted. Full body nudity and man on man action, both things Alexis provided with great joy. Ibrahim's old gym bros ditched him after he came out, but Alexis found new gym bros to grow close to (and in more ways the one).

Alexis showed off his body in front of the camera for another Tiktok, only to get interrupted by one of his gym bros coming from behind and squeezing his ass. Alexis smirked, then pulled him for a kiss on camera. Alexis loved his new body- and so did everyone else.

As for Ibrahim, although he was initially very against the idea of accepting his fate, he warned up to it after finding a special reason to stay. Ibrahim had found love in Alexis' straight girl best friend, and the two were madly in love. Despite this, Ibrahim could never get used to how queer his new body was. He began making changes gradually to make himself more comfortable in his new skin- taking out all the piercings, keeping the make up off of him, and even hitting the gym again. Some of Alexis' old circle of friends noticed he had changed, but none of them ever bothered to question it. So long as Ibrahim was happy and wasn't really bothering anyone, everyone more or less accepted their now straighter friend. All's well that ends well.

Check out part two to this series here!

[catholicdaredevil]

wanna make purple? || foggy nelson

i got a request about times in your relationship that foggy would cry and i just felt so fucking strongly about it that you're all getting this!

no warnings it's just fluffy and cute

words: 845

ao3 link

gif credit: @midtownmarvel

You didn’t mean to say it, didn’t plan for the words to tumble from your lips suddenly. He just took you off guard, that way that he always did. Head thrown back in laughter, you ran from his arms, dodging every swipe he made. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, nothing but child-like glee in every fiber of your being. You didn’t know how he did this, how he made you feel like a little kid playing pretend.

Back when the woods felt like alien planets, and you were the first explorer to touch down, traipsing through grass and under trees. Dirty and sweaty and alive. Times when you’d find every different shape of leaf and stick possible, it felt like you had the entire world at your fingertips, and make food. The magic of riding in the car and pretending you were being chased, escaping by the skin of your teeth when you finally pulled into the grocery store.

The soft haze of childhood that made nights lit up by nothing more than the stars and the scattering of lightning bugs feel enchanting. When reading books meant getting sucked into worlds far more interesting than your own, only broken by your mom yelling your name up the stairs that dinner was ready. Something so indescribably intimate and soft and somehow Foggy Nelson was able to replicate it, here in Hell’s Kitchen, with you.

That first date giggling and hiding in the park, not even sure how the game started, just a few words here and there and you were trying to climb into a tree near some kids riding their skateboards to camouflage in the green of leaves. Hand clamped over your mouth when you heard him yell in the distance. “Ready or not, here I come!”

He’d found you.

He claimed he could hear your barely muffled laughter from where you clung to the branches above him, you’d attest to this day that you knew one of those kids ratted you out. Not that you minded, no, not when he grabbed onto your ankle and his eyes had met yours. Didn’t mind when he pulled you down to his level, careful to not let you fall, hands steady and sure. Especially didn’t mind when he stepped into your space to kiss you breathless.

These moments that caught you off guard in all of the best ways, how you’d never look at him to not find him already watching you, nothing but adoration in his eyes. How he’d say your name like it was his, meant to sit in his mouth and on his tongue, always made your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist.

So it was only fair you got him back.

Running through a maze, a week before Halloween, shrieks of laughter and the smell of burnt popcorn in the air. When he told you he’d found out about some traveling carnival coming a couple hours outside the city you’d leapt at the opportunity. Shared cotton candy turning mouths pink and blue and he’d leaned in with a grin. “Wanna make purple?”

Smiling through kisses so hard your cheeks would burn in the aftermath, your chest so full sometimes it felt like you might burst. You’d walked to the beginning of the large maze made of hay so high it towered over the two of you, hand in hand and at the last second you turned to him.

“Catch me.”

Through twists and turns, around corners and bends, you ran until your lungs ached with effort. Until you’d come to a dead end punctuated by a giant skeleton bending over to reach towards you and you whipped around, adrenaline still surging through your body. Foggy came around the corner, hair wild and beaming. You found yourself crouched trying to gauge whether or not there was enough space on either side of him that you’d be able to slip through and continue the chase.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other you faked towards his right and when he moved with you, you went to sprint past him before a solid arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest with a thud. He knocked his forehead into yours as you both gulped down air and you were struck by how happy you were. How happy you always were with him, that every moment was so filled with smiles and laughter you barely remembered what it was like before.

“I love you.”

Close enough to feel his heart jolt at your words you bridged the remaining gap to connect your mouth with his. Reverent hands framed your face and when you pulled away you could see the tracks of tears down his cheeks, a single drop still hanging off the edge of his jaw. Gently you wiped his face, thumbs gracing across his soft skin and he turned to press his lips to the inside of your wrist before whispering through the shaky cracks in his voice.

“I love you too.”

[keysimash]

This is all FAST AND LOOSE general STUFF and not hard canon/hard timeline

But it started bc I was thinking how the fact Sectonia and Taranza are spiders.... they are bugs. How would a big bug society work on a fundamental level

Loooooooong post

And the Floralians who rebelled against queen Sectonia and planted the seed in triple Deluxe were NOT buggies. Curious

So spiders. Spiders are CARNIVORES. Spiders can.be CANNIBALS after mating. Spiders PRODUCE SILK, AN EXTREMELY

Good material

SILK IS SO STRONG. AND VERSATILE. the only reason we dont use it is cos spiders are impossible to farm because, the cannibalism

Unless you make a sentient spider segregation hellstate

Let me ECPLAIN

SO there's a lot of bugs we see in trpldlx . And I was thinking, how many of these bugs would have "value" in a capitalism sense. Value doesnt come from what you can produce but like. They live in a society. Joker face. Anyway Spiders have their silk and bugs are SUPER STRONG for their size so, laborers I imagine

Also. They can FLY

And I was considering how their fucked up mating habits might affect their culture and society

It's very easy to imagine on an isolated island whose only export is bug produced goods that are in extreme high demand by the rest of the world, AND THESE GUYS ARE CARNIVORES, SO they cant exactly go into other countries who will welcome them with open arms, because in my au there is a STRONG disdain and racism for the "scary" species. So they are isolated, their choices are live on the islands of Floralia or live in a place that will treat them like dangerous foreigners where they cant even make a living selling their own silk/goods because Floralian silk is WAYY cheaper

So a ruling class emerges. Ones who don't have the disadvantages bugs do. Ones who look cute cuddly and acceptable to the world who can do business anywhere they go . Flower ppl

You can guess where this is going

And obvs it's not totally a racial thing. There are ruling class bugs and plenty of poor floaty flower ppl.

Housing in Floralia is also CRAZY expensive bc it's an ISLAND and so are imports/food because NO FARMLAND. Bc of this and the carnivorism . It gets really bad for anyone poor aka most.

Also bugs and spiders esp have weird gender roles that increase suffering all around. Female spiders tend to get very vERY VIOLENT bc hormones and hunger after mating but even tho this only happens if they're preggo they're treated as little more than crazy animals and only male spiders are "civilized" and allowed to do things like learn to read and go to school. A females job is to make eggs and silk to support the family until she dies and the males get to do the business and what they can to try and become part of the ruling class except they cant bc SPIDER. Also since ALLL BUGS make CRAZY amounts of babies.... many exports of omnivore or herbivore bugs are straight up... "laborers" aka slaves to countries with less scrupulous morals. king ddd doesnt allow this but uhh. Many others.... do.

Cue sectonia and Taranza meeting as young teens. Sectonia is the product of a society that has fucked her in ways indescribable and unimaginable. Taranza inherited a bookstore from his uncle and is one of the few somewhat well off spiders. Not quite living paycheck to paycheck so to speak but very aware of his position in society and how easily that could be taken away

Taranza loves her but cant imagine being with her as a mate due to the ways love and violence are tangled up in their world. Sectonia realizes and is disgusted by him for this but they stay friends bc hhe is nice and teaches her to read

They both desire change and he and Sectonia start a secret radio broadcast spreading their message to other bugs etc and start learning how to make.... very effective weapons

bombs its bombs

Taranza in my au uses a bow and arrow type make from his own silk and a bolt of magic he shoots. He can pull a strand of silk and point and shoot anytime he wants.

Sectonia uses earth magic that makes gems and crystals like in the game

So, they did a magic process, where they actually switched hands. One of Taranza six hands is Sectonias. One of her hands, is his. This way they can use a bigger variety of magic. Taranza can make an arrow of crystal that explodes into shrapnel on impact. A weapon to maim. Or just make a crystal dagger.

And with Taranza hand, Sectonia can use a little bit of the dark magic Taranza started teaching himself for The Cause. Mind manipulation and necromancy.

His little notebook? His little diary.

That's a Grimoire baby

They gathered a large enough group and did some silly violence and took control . And this actually was GREAT for the bugs. The minority flower people, even the poor innocent ones, not so much ! The two had made into a racial thing rather than a class thing, and many innocent ppl were tortured and slaughtered, though work began on making bug society better for bugs, and the fact SECTONIA, a FEMALE SPIDER, was heading it all?? girlbOSS!!! AMAZING for female rights.

ALSO. A lot of the people that were

Executed under Sectonia --

That were important enough to be in charge of existing govt positions

Were kept around as zombie puppets by our little necromancer Taranza to carry out Her will

Michael afton ass. Except he didnt kill and zombify innocent kids but instead financial ministers and military generals

Complicated situation.

And the world that waNTS these goods for CHEAP? That wants an endless supply of SPIDER SILK AND SLAVES???

Bad ! Bad!!!

They are quickly labeled a terrorist state, and many other countries quickly send in their own militaries to put an end to this NOW NOW.

Sectonia and Taranza predicted this.

Sectonias particular crystal she was attuned to, is known as Loftstone, because in large enough quantities, it floats.

Theyd positioned the floating islands of Floralia, powered by loftstone deposits, above a large settlement of bugs who'd tried to escape Floralia years beforr and settled on the ground. The ground above a very large and unstable loftstone deposit.

The militaries came, and

taranza and Sectonia had prepared a spell for this.

They ripped an entire city out of the earth, combining their powers in a necromancy spell that created a new floating island for Floralia, killing almost all the soldiers that their own militaries didnt kill with their flying abilities.

What their propaganda doesnt want you to know is that thousands of their own died in the process

Anyway! Nobody wants to mess with Floralia now!!!

CUE META KNIGHTS LANDING AND SUDDENLY

DREAMLAND has an extremely powerful alien that's also a killing machine....

Sectonia goes

NUTS!!!

She cant let it happen again!!! Not to her bugs!!! The planet NEEDs to be powerful enough to fend ooff an alien attack!!

Sectonia and Taranza are also horrifically,xenophobic and racist lol

They "capture" and torture Meta for a while as you know from that one fic I wrote

Tama knight doesn't like Floralia doing this to his reflection . Not one bit

During this time Sectonia had fallen in love with and next in line for the throne was a bee lady

She is still a spider at this point

Tama knight does a silly.little political assassination!! Shoots Sectonia right in the head, in front of her gf and problematic boytoy at a speech in front of thousands

Taranza goes nuts!!!

He is a necromancer. This CANNOT happen. This WILL NOT HAPPEN

It doesnt matter if she hates him. It doesnt matter if she kills him . All that matters is that

She is alive again.

He asks for the consent of her lover, to use her body as a vessel to bring back the woman they both love more than themselves.

The contract is sealed in blood.

Taranza forcefully drags sectonias soul back to the living. Her body is . Irreparable. Her lovers body becomes hers. And her lover is banished into darkness.

Every time she sees herself she sees the woman she once loved. Still loves.

Sectonia hates Taranza until the day she dies.

And Taranza will love her until the day he dies.

(Also the reason he helped kirby in trpldlx was cos, he realized Sectonia soul was going out of control and didnt want a repeat of the giant spell that killed thousands of their own civilians. He and most of his country hate aliens and he and kirby, are not friends.)

I listened to this song the entire time I wrote this:

Pacing around in my kitchen hands behind my back thinking about how fucked up Taranza and Sectonia get in my au

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

_____________________________________________________________

Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school.  Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

[lord-radish]

Just finished Power of the Doctor.

I cried by the end. I cried.

---

I already miss Thirteen so much.

I have such mixed feelings on Chibnall's run. I wanted him to bring it back out of the wanky "Epic" feel of the Unstoppable Doctor Who Makes Grand Monologuing Speeches About How Great He Is era of the show (commonly shortened to the "Moffat Era"). And he did do that, and he made some great episodes all the same. I honestly really applaud series 11 for trying something new, and y'all can miss me with that hater shit about the P'Ting and the Stenza. I had some great Tumblr conversations due to that season too. Demons of the Punjab was the one episode since the 50th anniversary special that I liked the most of this show, and the Village of the Angels was at the exact same level.

But at the same time, Christ - Orphan 57 or whatever? Arachnids in the UK? The complete, flummoxing failure of the Flux? I've turned on Chibnall pretty hard. But I never once turned on Jodie Whitaker's Doctor, because she CARRIED this run through thick and thin - her and Mandip Gill, who I PRAY gets a career blow-up out of this.

Thirteen was such a good Doctor. Behind Ten - and yeah, I know Ten is a total normie pick - Thirteen was my favorite Doctor ever, on the strength of Jodie Whitaker's performance.

And that's why I fucking miss her already. She was so good.

Russell T. Davies was a dream pick for the new showrunner, and we'll never get a Thirteen episode penned by him or showran by him. I'm glad to have him back, but my god, I want my cake and I want to eat it too. Just like Yaz at the end there, I suppose.

I wasn't sure I was gonna like Tennant returning - which I was spoiled for due to filming leaks, though I also saw a gif of his first scene at the end of the episode and that bugged me. But that scene was stupidly well-acted???? I'm actually that much more on-board than I expected. I'm looking forward to the specials.

The one nitpick I had is that I was hoping Thirteen and Yasmin would have one kiss. Again, cake and the eating thereof. I get why they didn't, and there was a callback to the Sea Devils episode so like I get it, but man.

This episode was like the 50th anniversary special, in that for all of my cynicism and jadedness about this run of the show, I bought into it wholesale. Sasha Dhawan's Master was a fucking delight, as always. Giggling nerdboy psycho? Very well done. Rasputin? Indescribable. It was so well-acted.

And the plot?! Fuckin, forcing the Doctor to regenerate into the Master, and then using the Cyber-Masters to reverse the effect? Poetic fucking cinema. Hoisted by his own petard, excellent. Paying off the end of series 12, perfect.

Bit sad about the traitor Dalek - which once again, was a total highlight. This episode came together indescribably well. I was worried when I saw Chibnall was the sole writer, but by gum he held this special together tooth and claw and it owned.

The classic rep felt fantastic, though I'm not a Classic fan. I'm Modern through and through, with respect and love to the classic series and the fans of which. I can only hope those small Doctor moments with Tegan and Ace resonated with the classic crowd as much as I enjoyed them.

One last nitpick, Dan didn't come back and save the day. I was hoping for a sneaky Dan comeback. But I think the end scene with the support group was a fantastic touch, not just for Dan to close out his run but to have that last push of classic series representation.

Jodie Whitaker deserved better - when Chibnall was good, he was on fire. I like his great episodes more than most of Moffat's episodes during his turn as showrunner. I adored Thirteen, I adored Jodie Whitaker's chemistry with Mandip Gill. I adore her tinkerer characterisation, the love of learning and of giving other people that Eureka moment. I wasn't happy when the show made her more closed off and brooding - I got it, but until this episode I felt like she had such a hard time letting other people in and it really bothered me. And yet she was always a highlight of this show, her character and Jodie Whitaker's performance.

I will never not rep Thirteen. She was fan-fucking-tastic. And I already miss her so much.

Best episode of Chibnall's run. One of the best episodes of the revival, period. He messed up the run and snapped the pole, but he cleared the long jump and nailed the landing.

[waitingforminjae]

shit that freaks me out at a viscerally indescribable level to the point i can't read/watch it: wilderness survival stories, dying slowly alone/in the wilderness, and ppl turning into bugs 😖

[wisteria-lodge]

lion primary (bird model) + slightly burnt lion secondary

Hi there! I’m a fan of your sorting posts, and of your kind and insightful way of supporting people in finding out more about themselves. So naturally I’d be very interested in your take about my own sorting, if you’re game! :)

I won’t talk much about my Secondary, because now that I’m starting to unburn my Lion seems very clear to me, even when my explosion-prone Badger model still tries to get in the way of that clarity sometimes. The more interesting riddle is my Primary. So far I’m operating under the working theory that I am a Lion with a very strong Bird model - or is it the other way ‘round?

The supposed dichotomy between “thinking” and “feeling” in many of the more binary personality models has always bugged me, so it’s no wonder this is the area where whenever I feel like I’ve decided on who I am (for now) a new question mark pops up (so much fun!).

If ‘thinking’ and ‘feeling’ doesn’t work for you as terminology, it might help to think of Lion as leading with subconscious reasoning, and Bird as leading with conscious reasoning.

Instead of trying to formulate a cohesive text, which would have gotten even longer, I’m putting together an associative list of thoughts and stories that kept turning up while I was trying to figure out my Primary.

A very Lion primary way to solve a problem, not gonna lie ;)

- I think I got my Bird model from my father, who made quite an effort to teach me to look at things from all angles. As a child, whenever I got in a fight with this friend I had, he would sit me down and ask me to put myself in my friend’s shoes. It was hard, because a lot of the time my friend was being unfair to me and I actually could have used some support, someone to tell me that it was not okay to treat me this way. But I’m still immeasurably grateful for my father’s lessons, through which I’ve learned to understand peoples’ motivations and gained an understanding for the complexities of every conflict. He also taught me to doubt, to look closer, to not just believe the first thing I see, or want to see. To this day I still consider my ability to pin down the relevant factors of a situation before I make judgments one of my strengths.

That definitely sounds like a very strong, beloved Bird model.

- Whenever I had to write an essay at school or uni, I first had to come up with some aspect about the subject that I really cared about, even could be passionate about. (I am passionate about many things, so it was usually possible to find some connection to that.) Then I would use the essay to discuss this aspect in great detail, ending with a polemic flourish. I had the time of my life doing that; meanwhile the text would structure itself magically in relation to the issue I had chosen to focus on. Whenever I tried to write without such a focus, I’d get bored, stressed and the text would be of a much lower quality.

- Something similar happened in oral exams at uni: Only when I got the opportunity to bring a discussion paper (a few pointed statements regarding the exam topic) which I could then debate, I was able to recollect all the important details I needed for that. If I just had to report on the topic or answer questions, I often got confused, to the point of drawing a complete blank.

Linking things to emotion and passion - thinking with emotion and passion, basically - is a Lion primary thing. Especially if doing that makes you feel safe & comfortable & effective & happy.

- Even as a teenager I was very interested in philosophy, ethics and moral decision making.

I love teaching philosophy to teenagers. It’s the perfect time for it, they are so into it, and if it were up to me I would absolutely make it a required class.

I picked up certain philosophical ideas and concepts that I liked and integrated them in my belief system (yes, I know how very Bird that sounds).

I had my mind blown by Genealogy of Morals in high school, and I still won’t shut about Eichmann in Jerusalem. But what was so staggering to me in high school was… here are these ways of thinking that are possible and allowed. The fact that here they are in words in front of me made me a great deal more expansive.

Now that I think about it — I don’t remember adjusting my beliefs as in any way traumatic back then. The shift from a belief in the Christian God to Mother Goddess to my very own brand of agnostic paganism was smooth, natural.

Now that I think about it… I would describe myself as a mythic relativist (which is a term I just made up.) Systems of belief are metaphors, and they’re metaphors trying to describe and say something large and beautiful about what it means to be human, and what it means to live a good life. And since we are all human, they are all attempting to describe the same central, indescribable thing in different ways.

I feel this very deeply, but it took me a long while to be able to articulate it.

I constantly reevaluate, and I adapt.

You stop reevaluating and adapting, might as well be dead.

Still, there are some basics I’ve kept with me that just make too much sense to me to give up, and some that perhaps I keep because I just really like them and I’m kind of attached to them.

… somebody’s thinking with Pathos :)

- I’m a constructivist at heart, so that makes it much easier to tweak the content of my beliefs while staying true to the principle that we (socially) construct our reality, and (my take on this): that I choose what kind of world I want to live in, and according to that I make choices which are the most likely to create that world.

- At uni I attended a seminar about the development of moral judgment and action. What I remember most clearly about it is how much it bugged me that the other students didn’t seem to understand that morality always depends on the perspective. Even though I had definite moral convictions that I was ready to fight for, at the same time it seemed obvious to me that theoretically there could be a justification for every kind of moral guideline; it depended on your principles and the world you wanted to live in.

A human after my own heart.

I wanted to understand these different perspectives, not talk about empty categories like “right and wrong” or “good and evil” that meant nothing to me. I still feel that way.

Absolutely. I don’t use alignments when I DM Dungeons & Dragons. I mean, I can list evil *things* but that’s not the same thing as defining *being evil.* I want to know WHY these people did these evil things.

It just seems so impractical and complicated to base a conversation on those broad categories that don’t have any definition people can agree on instead of referring either to defined principles (in order to explain what good/ bad is *for you*) or consequences of certain actions, and whether you want them/ accept them/ don’t want them.

Oh that’s a fun discussion. Asking a highschooler to define “evil.”

(and then they have to figure out what moral systems Jigsaw, Pinhead, the Joker, and Bane all subscribe to.)

- Between “the Revolutionary” and “the Grail Knight”, I would love to be the former, but I’m clearly the latter. I’m someone who questions, not someone who knows.

Take my archetypes with a grain of salt, they are supposed to describe characters. (Who are different from people - but still useful, because they are attempts to describe us.) I actually want to write more about the differences I see between the way fictional secondaries are written and the way real-life secondaries work.

And just “knowing”... is dangerous. That’s how Exploded Lions happen. 

There are a lot of causes I find worthy to fight for, but I haven’t committed to any one, which so far I’ve attributed to my Burned Secondary (How do I do things?).

Sounds about right.

If I’m honest, though, it feels a bit strange to really, really fight for anything. I’d rather contribute to the cause by keeping an eye on whether we stay aligned to our values on every level of the fight, not by storming sightlessly in front of some army. (I got polemic again, didn’t I? ;))

So after all this Bird talk, why do I think that I’m a Lion?

… that was the Bird segment?

- I trust my intuition. It has never steered me wrong, with one exception: My Primary burned for a time when I first understood the concept of privilege and internalized bias, which was coincidentally at a time when I also went through a lot of changes in my personal life. Like many people unaware of their own privilege, I had thought of myself as “one of the good ones”. I learned that even with the best intentions I could cause great harm without even noticing it. This then also happened to me in a relationship, when I was already confused, hurt and more than a bit burned. It seemed like I couldn’t trust my intuition anymore, but I also couldn’t figure out intellectually what to believe, because I felt mentally overwhelmed by all those new concepts, all of which put my previous convictions into question. Which Primary burned then?

Been there, done that, it’s brutal. It sounds to me like a Lion dramatically changing direction - that’s what I mean when I say that it *hurts* when a Lion changes their mind. Birds see their past selves that thought wrong as almost different people. “I wasn’t aware of my privilege then, now I am, and can take steps doing forward.” But if you’re a lion it’s like… I *should* have been aware, and the fact that I wasn’t says something terrible about my moral/emotional calibration, and THAT has to be put right.

- I felt like everything I had learned about the world and myself didn’t count anymore. My concepts and my strategies didn’t serve me anymore. So I started to rebuild everything from scratch, this time with less pride and more practicality.

Yeah. That’s some Lion recalibration. With a Bird Model, to help.

- Anyway, I trust my intuition. It contains my experiences, instinct and all my accumulated unconscious observations of the situation, and it’s very reliable. Usually I use it as an important source of information which I try to back up with data/ understanding, but when push came to shove and the apparent facts would contradict what my intuition told me, I would be unable to set my gut feeling aside. I wouldn’t follow it blindly, of course. But I would never just go against it either. If the voices of my unconscious and conscious mind don’t align, I keep poking at the issue until they do. If I absolutely cannot come to a satisfying conclusion, I go with my gut. Since I know it usually knows what it’s doing, I’ll find out the reasons for my feelings later. (Weird, says my inner bird who is busy compiling these examples.)

I’LL FIND THE REASON FOR MY FEELINGS LATER. What a perfect way of articulating what is perhaps the central experience of being a Lion primary.

- Probably I’m just both, you know. Some interesting lion/bird-chimaera. I like it.

I read you as a pretty clear Lion Primary, Bird primary model. But as always, the decision is very personal.

- I have a weird way of processing information: I read/ hear it, work to understand it, work to connect it to existing knowledge in my mind, then my beliefs, my existing knowledge and my feelings about it all wind around each other, grow into each other, some dissolve together, becoming a swamp which then nourishes the plants of new ideas and connections that grow from it.

You grok it. And that’s not weird.

I often can’t remember where certain knowledge came from. I can’t take it out of a memory shelf and tell you about it. I usually remember that I’ve read a certain book and whether I liked it / it influenced me, but I won’t exactly remember what was in it, even if it was important to me. Because all that information is already processed/ digested/ transformed into something new. It’s much easier to access my memory swamp intuitively than consciously.

and you seriously had like… any doubt that you were a Lion.

In intellectual discussions I tend to get stuck because I just can’t remember enough of the details (for my satisfaction), just my conclusions about the topic and how I feel about it.

I’m inclined to think that not accessing the details is either a secondary thing, or an entirely unrelated processing thing.

What do you make of all this? I’m very curious!

:)

[On an unrelated note, I’d like to specify the compliment I made at the beginning of this post. I’m really impressed with your ability to pick up on what people need, not just what they say they want. As a counselor this is a skill I try to hone, so I know how difficult it is to not get too distracted by the story people tell and miss the more subtle cues. You have a powerful combination of perceptiveness, insight and so much kindness, which you use to effectively support people who have questions, are in distress or confused. You don’t generalize. You don’t judge. You see the people who talk to you.  I love that you’re a teacher, because I can see you’re using the influence that gives you in a way that contributes to making the world a better place. Fellow Idealist, I’d like to give you a High Five for that, if I may. :)))]

I’m not sure I’ve ever been given a better compliment. Thank you.

[theprissythumbelina]

Happy Blorbo Blursday! I have two random questions for you. XD

Which of your ocs would win a rap battle and which one is your favorite to write?

Sorry for the late reply, computer troubles are a nightmare.

I think Haira might go in thinking she'd sweep the floor, but Aure would enter just to put her in her place and end up blowing everyone away. Like Angelica (Hamilton) in Satisfied levels of speed.

My favorite to write has been Alyss, because I don't have to hold back with her at all. I love writing unhinged characters. A little example cause I do love writing her so much:

"They want me to describe. I can’t describe, I told them, it's indescribable. It's like war and war is like nothing else but war. How do you describe war. Like an aunt. I was a tiny bug in a tiny metal cap and something stepped on me and everyone else was ground into the dust but I survived. Its described. They should be proud. I survived, isn’t that war? I killed and survived, that's it. Its described."

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

This might be a tad angsty but in your microcanon, what's the nature of the relationship between Macavity and Jemima? Since she was born and grew up a little while Demeter was still with him, what's her impression of him?

Jemima's impression of and relationship with her biological father is very mixed and complicated. tl;dr - Jemima's extreme empathy levels make it so that she can't help but try to find good in people, even when there isn't much left to be found.

And if that weren’t enough, Jemima harbors the very real fear of turning out to be just like him.

For starters, she didn't know that Macavity was her father until closer to the tail end of her time with him. For the first month of her life, Jemima's whole little world was too loud, too bright, and too much. Shapes and colours swirled in her mind restlessly, every touch grated against her skin like sandpaper, bugs crawled under her skin, the emotions of those around her stung the violently at back of her throat, but she could put no name to any of these things. She knew nothing of her situation, of the blood running through her veins, except the startling reality of her own existence. She could only cry until they quieted down.

In the weeks that followed, everything Jemima knew revolved around her mother and the handful of cats who drifted in and out of her field of vision like shadows; she remembers crooked torn ears and red handprints and black and orange stripes. She remembers how they smelled and what the timbers of their voices sounded like buzzing in her skull. These were safe cats - they must be. She cannot taste her mother's fear when they are around her.

Macavity showed very little interest in his heirs unless they showed promise in the magic department (Macavity is obsessed with legacy almost as much as anything else). And even then, it wasn't so much an interest in *them* as it was in their ability. Still, Macavity made a point of seeing her once in her first week, as he did with the others (a kitten useless as an heir has other uses, afterall). Demeter holds her breath when he reaches to touch her, bites so hard on her tongue she tastes blood to keep from gathering Jemima away from him.

There is something in Jemima that shows promise. A lot of promise. He senses the magic in her blood is strong. He is pleased. Tendrils of well done, slither through Demeter's head, leaving ringing in their wake.

Jemima does not remember this visit, does not remember any different cat, but she feels disquiet when her mother whispers of that time to her. When she closes her eyes and concentrates, she feels the tip of a claw press under her milk wet chin, lifting her head to the light.

On two separate occasions, when she was very little, Demeter found Jemima curled between Macavity's forepaws listening with childlike innocence as he spoke to her in a low, honeyed tone, so sickly and saccharine it made the hairs at the back of Demeter's neck stand up. She is never there by Demeter's own choice. He located her, a sheep strayed from the flock, or has lured her purposefully from her bed, to await the vicious warning he has for her mother just behind the guise of the smile twisting his muzzle. Jemima is not there for fatherly affection; she is there as a threat. As an...encouragement of Demeter's obedience.

Kittens, as I said, are useful in other ways.

Both times, she clings to Jemima when he allows her to scamper back to her, trying to keep the bile down as the kitten's little voice meows an innocent "bye bye", prompting another smirk from under his whiskers. Demeter takes her away as fast as possible, nodding her understanding. It is no longer her own life Macavity is playing with. She cannot afford to make mistakes.

Jemima is under constant watch after that.

Or at least as much as they possibly can

The first time Jemima met her father consciously, that she can remember, she did not know he was her father. She didn't even know that this was Macavity; this was the cat that all the others whispered about. But she knew something was not quite right about the cat towering before her. She was caught sneaking around one of the grand ballrooms, and taken to him by one of the queen henchcats, who Jemima only remembers as smelling of brine and hunger. The henchcats know better than to screw around with Macavity's favoured heirs - that was his domain and his alone.

"Good evening, Jemima." His voice sounds familiar, but it is not settling or comforting like other familiar voices in Jemima's life. This voice, artificially warm, has an edge to it, as though it is wound so tight it could snap at any moment.

His skin seems to shift and bubble as he leans down to look her in the eye. He reeks so much of authority that Jemima nearly chokes on it. Macavity does not look whole - he looks like so many segmented pieces stitched together. Jemima does not see the image he attempts to project forward to her - the gentlecat made to look unthreatening and meek. What she sees is altogether indescribable and pulsing with magic; what she sees is right through the cracks in Macavity's mask.

He is immediately unsettled by this.

She cannot put her paw onto why, but something in her mind sparks to life as she continues to stare at him - like her brain is filled with fireworks. It scratches around in her skull, prompting her to pull absentmindedly at one of her ears.

"Sneaking around is very unbecoming of a young queen, wouldn't you say?"

Jemima does not answer. She feels as though all the words have been stolen from her mouth.

"Where is your mother?" He is angry, but he seasons it well with formal niceties. Jemima can taste it plain as day.

Jemima feels how somecat's grip trembles on her upper arm when they slide up behind her. She knows this cat - has seen the dull glow of his aura many a time. Alonzo had looked as though all the blood had drained from his body when he recognized who had been brought before the Mystery Cat - when he too quickly affirmed that he would take her back to Demeter before Macavity had even asked. There is ice beneath the other cat's lashes as he glances up at the tom, interruption catalogued away for later, and Jemima catches the spark of irritation before he straightens.

"Sleep well, daughter," the strange cat calls after the pair, and Jemima feels the connection sever, leaving behind a faint buzz in her ears.

"What the hell were you doing?" Alonzo whispers when they were significantly out of earshot. He does not pause in his haste down the hall; he does not bother to censor himself.

Jemima ignores him. "Who was that?"

"That's the boss," Alonzo's voice drops. "That's Macavity."

Macavity. She knew that name. "Why did he call me daugh-ter?"

Alonzo's aura seems to go even paler, but he still does not pause. If anything, he walks faster. "Ask your ma," he mutters. "And don't let me catch you sneaking out again, you hear me?"

She is told, after a scolding, her mother's voice laced tight with hysteria, who Macavity is. The connection she felt, scratchy and unsettling, was all at once fully understood. That was her father.

Her father was Macavity.

In the days after, she can't stop thinking about what she saw. She wants to ask questions, but none of the adults around her want to answer them. She remembers that segmented face, the black sunken eyes, the wild red mane. She peers at her own reflection in the basement puddles and cracked boudoir mirrors and recognizes his face staring back at her. She blinks and her eyes turn black. Then back to blue.

Though she is too young to realize just yet, it's around this time she understands why Demeter and Bombalurina sometimes look at her the way they do. Why Demeter cries quietly in the middle of the night when she thinks no one can hear her. They see his face looking back at them.

And this is where Jemima's anxieties start to blossom.

The second time she is put face to face with her father, Macavity specifically requests her mother's presence and asks for Jemima by name. Demeter pushes Jemima behind her slightly when Macavity motions her closer, but a wave of his paw later and Demeter's grip on her shoulder slackens, and her arm is shoved firmly at her side.

Jemima trembles with her mother's defiance, but fully shakes with her fear. She wants to echo the sobbing she hears in Demeter's chest.

Macavity lifts her chin, twisting her head this way and that as he asks her questions. They are simple questions - about her dreams, about her nightmares, about the colours she sees sparking around other cats' ears. All the while, she feels that same sparking buzz in her teeth. She doesn't want to answer, but she does; it pours from her in buckets and she can't help it.

As Macavity listens quietly to her latest nightmare about a shadowed cat with white eyes and his jaw hung loose, too many teeth in his mouth, Jemima catches a flash of...something in Macavity's eyes. But it is gone as quickly as it surfaces.

When she finishes, he seems satisfied, and sends her off to play while he "Speaks with her mother privately."

Jemima hesitates beside her mother, not wanting to leave her alone, but scampers off to find Jerrie and Teazer when Demeter nods tightly in her direction.

She doesn't want to be alone either. Not with the buzzing in her head.

Every interaction afterwards, Jemima senses more and more of these threads of....something in Macavity that loop round and round but don't quite connect. It is not goodness like she senses in other cats. At least, she doesn't think it is. It is not particularly fear either - though it has shades of it. Honestly, she doesn't know what it is. And this, somewhat, prevents her from ever feeling fully afraid of him, even when she absolutely knows she should be.

It's incredibly confusing for her. He's never hurt her, never threatened her directly, but she knows how he treats other cats - how he treats other kittens. She's heard him yelling, seen glimpses of what he's done (more than she should have ever seen in her short lifetime). She sees as his flesh crawls and his eyes change. She sees the scars on her mother's face, the bruise around Alonzo's muzzle, the way Bombalurina favours her left leg. How Mungojerrie avoids looking most cats in the eye and Electra claws uselessly at her ringing ears.

She knows, deep in her heart, it's all his doing. This place was all his doing.

Jemima grows to hate his attention turned on her, on her friends, on her family - feels like an ant under a magnifying glass.

And yet...

She collects these loops and holds onto them. They are not frequent, but they exist. She cannot think of Macavity as her father - it feels wrong to do so when she already has her mind set otherwise - but her empathy is so high, that she can't help thinking of him as a cat like any other. A cat who has done terrible things and made horrible mistakes - but a cat nonetheless.

She cannot ever forgive him for what he's done, and will never forgive him, but sympathy swells in her breast all the same. The belief that every cat, no matter where they came from and what they had done, perhaps still has shades of the *capability* of goodness somewhere in them, nags at her every time she runs into him from then on out.

When they escape to the Junkyard, a few months later, Jemima is given a clearer picture of who Macavity is - but more importantly, who Macavity *was*. She notices how cats' attitudes change when they figure out who her father is, hears how their voices dip with pity. Munkustrap tells her about his brother, Old Deuteronomy shares a memory through her temple, and Bombalurina gets comfortable enough to speak of him when they were young, like Jemima and her friends were.

And a whole new fear blossoms in Jemima - if Macavity wasn't always bad, wasn't always a monster...if he had *become one* with time, did that mean that one day, she would be a monster too? 

If all cats had the capability to be good deep down, did that mean that all cats had the capability to be bad just as much?