#but psychology is still theoretically very weak

[tanadrin]

on reflection, i think there's a symmetry to, say, doctors who are willing to refer patients to osteopaths or other ""holistic"" healthcare providers and the susceptibility of engineers to certain kinds of crankdom (of the "i-disproved-relativity-in-my-garage" type). both are forms of scientific training of a sort, but they're heavily outcome-focused and not theoretically focused. in large part, this is good! you do not as a doctor need to have a robust theoretical defense of every treatment you provide to patients, and it would be impossible to do so, because medicine is a huge and complicated subject. you do not, as an engineer, need to have a subtle grasp of theoretical physics to build a bridge; you just need to know what the latest developments in bridge-building are.

but it means in both cases you can have people who are skilled in their field, or who even excel, but who don't understand very well why certain techniques work. and in the case of alt medicine, where there has been considerable work to try to obfuscate or deceive people on how shaky the theoretical basis for their techniques are (stuff that literally if you remember your high-school physics and biology at all will make you go, "wait, there is no plausible mechanism for this, that's not how any of this works"), doctors who do not have time to read studies on RCT trials of every type of medicine they have ever heard of will blithely recommend stuff to patients that's actually complete horseshit, especially if the culture around them has been normalizing that woo as part of "holistic" therapy for the last hundred years, spurred on by alternative medicine practitioners and a public with a fear of needles and ~chemicals~ that medical practitioners have not done enough to allay.

it does not help that medicine only emerged very recently from being about 99% bullshit. like maybe at the end of the 19th century at best medicine was starting to be put on a broad-based empirical and theoretical footing--before that it's truly insane the stuff that wasn't just considered perfectly normal medical practice, but was considered serious Science. i mean, this is why we developed double-blind studies in the first place--because theoretical explanations of medical treatments are still necessarily often secondary to the process of finding ones that actually work, so we need really robust mechanisms to avoid confirmation bias or outright charlatanry. and while mainstream medicine is far from perfect in this respect, "alternative medicine" is all far, far worse.

#imagine if bridge-building was still trial and error half the time #like medieval cathedral building #that's probably not very fair to medicine #like we've gotten so much better in just the last seventy years #at targeted medical research #but still sometimes we develop new treatments #and we're like 'idk why this works but i'm pretty sure it does' #psychology still feels like it's full of individual practitioners with idiosyncratic theories #inventing therapies in an ad-hoc way #like ye olde 19th century doctors #but psychology is still theoretically very weak #so that kinda makes sense to me

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Ok, LISTEN. I'm about half way through seven minuets in heaven pt.2, but because I'm working on it while watching season 2, I got SatoSugu on my mind. so...

Now Presenting...

A little SatoSugu themed supplementary material.

Ok, so let's start standard 

Suguru is a psychology major with a minor in musical performance 

Satoru is a theoretical physics major with no minor because "ew, minors."

Suguru joined the ABO frat because fraternity housing is wayyy fucking cheaper than living in the dorms. Plus, easy access to booze.

Gojo did it for the memes and cause his best friend was joining. 

Suguru is for sure an alcoholic and in denial about it

Gojo smoked weed once and won't shut up about it. He does take a weak ass edible every once in awhile to sleep though.

Gojos tolerance is absolutely shit. Two shots and three puffs in and he is gone!

Suguru on the other hand could drink an entire bottle of tequila and smoke 12 joints and only really be kinda buzzed. 

Suguru is definitely in denial about his bisexuality. Everything that he does with Gojo is just for female attention, ya know?

Especially when they're making out alone in their shared room. That's definitely for attention. Source:just trust me bro

Gojo is very comfortable in his pansexuality, and has been known to use "are you a frying pan? Cause you're so fucking hot" as a pickup line.

Ok, now for their background!

Suguru and Gojo actually grew up together, and are the closest anyone can get to childhood friends,

Which morphed into the well documented phenomenon of an all too intense friendship that blurs the line of friends and dating, where if one of them were the opposite gender they would totally be together, but because they’re both boys there using that as a shield to avoid confronting their identities beyond the default settings

They were each other's first kiss 💋 

Gojo actually had really kind and loving parents who were very supportive. 

Sugurus' mom died when he was young though, leaving him and his dad to struggle. His dad wasn't necessarily bad, but he did have to work constantly and therefore wasn't home often.

Gojo was naturally smart and school came very easy to him. Meanwhile, Suguru struggled a lot, specifically with anything math related. 

This led to Gojo, with his great grades and generational wealth, being able to go to basically any college he wanted to. 

He still decided to go to the local community College in the end, at least to get his gen-eds and the first few years of his major out of the way at a heavily discounted price.

Yea, Suguru had no such opportunity, his options were community College or to start working with his dad as a mechanic immediately. 

And while he's not opposed to the idea of working with his father, and will even work with him for some extra spending money in the summers, he really wanted to give the whole higher education thing a shot. 

He's very proud to be in his community College, as he's the first person in his family to even attempt to get a degree

Now, here's how they are in a relationship because you can't have just one.

These boys have historically shared everything: their hot wheels, their Xbox, their bed, and their women. You are no exception. Lucky you 💜💙

When it comes to the three of you together, you find the boys actually work extremely well as a unit.

Where one struggles, the other thrives. Gojo isn't great when it comes to emotional venting and stuff, always looking to "fix" it.

Suguru is better at actually listening and only offering advice when you ask. He’s always willing to just cuddle and listen.

Suguru is terrible to try and watch movies with, he gets bored so fast. Meanwhile Gojo is obsessed with movies. 

Gojos fixer attitude also comes in clutch whenever you need to get something done, but just do not have it in you to do it. Need to call a doctor but have phone anxiety? Gojos your man.

Suguru craves to be the primary partner for both you and Gojo. Yes he's aware this is irrational, no he's not sure what to do about it. All he knows is that he gets jealous when he sees you with Gojo, and has to find ways to cope.

To his credit, he's never made this a problem for anyone other than himself, and he is actively working on it. 

Gojo on the other hand fucking loves to see you and Suguru spending time together. Those are his two favorite people in the god damn world, aren't they cute?!

Sugurus love language is music. He'll make you playlists, old fashioned mix tapes, and has forced you to listen to vinyl with him. He's written songs about you too, though he's too shy to show them off.

Will play his guitar for you only when asked because he knows the optics of 'frat guy with a guitar' are not ideal.

Gojo shows his love by sharing his candy. Splitting a Kit Kat, giving you a handful of skittles, sharing a sleeve of oreos. If Gojo shares his sweets with you he wants to marry you.

They two of you bond by baking together. You buy new cute molds and cookware together and set up entire spreads based on one theme.

Suguru was probably the first one to be in your life: I.E. the one that you agreed to date before realizing (and agreeing to) the package deal.

But Gojo said I love you first. He feels everything at 100% and hides none of it.

He said it loudly and in front of the rest of the frat, showing you off to everyone. 

When Suguru said it for the first time though, it was quiet; whispered to you late at night while you were curled up in his arms.

Both of the boys are massive cuddle bugs!

You call them Sugubear and Satotoro. Gojo loves it and Suguru does too, but he pretends he doesn't. 

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satosugu #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #satosugu x reader

[oraclekleo]

How to interpret Tarot cards (or Oracle cards) in order to read sexual topics in them (kinks, turn ons, preferences, etc.)

Hello my dear followers and random visitors of my blog!

I was asked this multiple times but recently with a request to make a post on it. The question is: How can I read kinks, turn ons and other sex related details in tarot cards?

Those who follow me for some time know, that I actually have several tarot decks with 18+ imagery but I can assure you that those don’t give the spicy type of interpretation either as the guidebooks are still pretty wholesome and general so if you think you can buy a deck that will have kinks listed with each card, you might be disappointed. I haven’t seen any deck like that so far. If you did, let me know. I would be curious.

Anyway! How can anyone interpret any tarot (or oracle) deck regarding sexual topics? Let’s find out!

You must have some theoretical knowledge prior to reading! You will never see something you don’t have vocabulary for in the cards so if you want to do readings on kinks, study the topic first. Read books, scientific papers, well-sourced articles, discussions… Make sure to accumulate some knowledge on kinks because you will never see them in the cards if you don’t know them. Please! Don’t limit your research to Tumblr, Reddit, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, Pornhub… Try to actually read something about the psychology of sexuality. From actual professionals with proper education and experience in the field, not from self-proclaimed ‘experts’ on TikTok. Yes, it does sound boring. But hey! You asked how I do it. And I’m an information geek.

Ask clearly and with context! If you want to see something in the cards, you need to state your question clearly enough and know some context. As you have seen, I often use tarot spreads for my readings where I have multiple questions, like my Kinky readings where actually only one question is titled Kink. Context helps! Any card can actually mean numerous kinks so you need to see the bigger picture. If the rest of the reading describes the person as vanilla and romantic, it’s not very likely for The Moon card to describe their anal sex preferences but more likely to describe romance under the moonlight or bonding through sharing hidden thoughts. Context matters.

Play the association game! Once again, a trick from psychology. The association game. It means that you are told a word and say the first thing that comes to your mind linked to it. For our purposes you can look up the keywords or guidebook interpretation of your card and simply try to associate the words with something else but following the sexual topic of your reading. For example some of the key words for The Sun card are positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality. If you pull The Sun card for kink question, you can work with the warmth or vitality key words. For example warmth can mean sensory play kink, dripping skin safe wax on skin, it can also mean cock warming and you would surely come up with more. Vitality can mean extraordinary stamina so perhaps a tantric sex or cock warming again, as that also requires stamina and self control, or it can denote high sex drive and quickie preferences.

The imagery gives hints! Don’t just stick to the key words and look at the card, at the imagery. Look at it properly and seek for clues giving out something you could associate with the question you are asking about. Are you asking about a turn on and you pull an Ace of Wands? Typical Freud! It can mean this person finds well-endowed men attractive. Are you asking about a kink and you pull the Queen of Swords card? It can mean your person has a weakness for dominant partners and being bossed around with sharp wits but also grace and care. It really depends on how the card looks. Is there a person drinking from a cup on the card? It can mean oral sex. Is there a person leaning against the wall? You probably can guess. The imagery can be completely wholesome, even cute but you will always be able to find something you can associate with sexual topics. If you have the knowledge, of course.

Don’t be shy to discuss! Nobody is born perfect, we can only aspire towards it throughout our lives. If you are not sure or you simply need a second opinion, don’t hesitate to go and ask. If you have a friend you can discuss this with, great! If you don’t you can always come to me and I’m happy to give suggestions or brainstorm your ideas. During my practice, I often bothered my friend with naughty interpretations. I still do sometimes. She’s kinda used to it by now but we had great fun trying to guess what kind of kink this card is talking about. While tarot is a solitary hobby, you will probably need to discuss something with others from time to time. So just hit my inbox, DM or email if you are not sure and we will find the perfect interpretation together!

I hope this short introduction can help at least some of you. You can always ask me about anything, I don’t really get squeamish when it comes to this. The worst thing that can happen with me is that I will tell you I don’t know something. I don’t really judge nor shame (unless your intention is to judge, shame or hate on someone) so you can always contact me.

Thank you for this interesting inquiry.

Best of luck reading on kinks and other sexual topics!

P.S. This is my personal approach to this, it’s in no way the only one or the right one. It’s mine and I can’t teach you something I don’t practise myself.

#oracle kleo #tarot #tarotblr #tarot blog #tarot beginner #tarot cards #tarot interpretation #tarot help #spicy content #tarot deck #tarot meanings #tarot messages #oracle cards

[y-rhywbeth2]

@ladymer Putting this in its own post for space and tidier notes.

Really? I haven't seen him say that before.

I'm pretty sure he still has his soul and that Karlach is being metaphorical when she tells unascended Astarion that he kept it (or she's referring to the fact that it's still his and unbranded by "property of Mephistopheles" as souls are when you make a deal with the infernal.)

Making a deal with a devil at all corrupts your soul because it always involves doing something evil that shifts you towards the Hells, shown mechanically as an alignment change which may be instant or gradual. You are twisted towards the end goal of becoming like a devil yourself, the embodiment of cruelty, ambition, lust and tyranny - destined for the hells and likely to corrupt those around you and take them with you.

As ever, this isn't necessarily what Larian had in mind, but this is how I'm reading/headcanoning it, based on the D&D lore available to me:

I imagine it would cause the Vampire Ascendant to be what vampires say on the box, no nuance left:

"Dark Desires: Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns to hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave..."

With the traits of a devil layered on top (which is honestly pretty much exactly the same as the drives possessed by vampires):

"The psychology of devils can be summed up in a single word: Ambition. Almost every devil constantly wonders how it can win advancement [...] The cleverer devils invariable perceive themselves as cool, calculating, and abundantly logical. [...however they] act based on emotion, without regard for their true long-term self-interest. Devils enjoy inflicting misery - be it physical or mental - on others. They hate suffering defeat or humiliation..."

They're not necessarily "more" evil than any other vampire, but incapable of being more than their curse the way another vampires are theoretically capable of. They may not be soulless, but they might as well be. The inherent evil/corruption of vampirism is maximised and overrides any existing humanity. Violence is the highest pleasure. Power is all. They only see things (including people) in terms of possession, jealousy and envy. The way they experience love and other emotions is superficial and sometimes, due to their ego, obsessive (this thing/person is theirs, so any challenge to that claim is not allowed because it's an attack on them). etc.

What the Vampire Ascendant mostly reminds me of is Abyssal Ghouls - and more specifically the original 1e FR version from Lords of Darkness, which was Ghasts, another form of sapient undead "improved" by the Lower Planes, courtesy of demons. They're undead and partially fiends. They're more powerful than regular ghouls, naturally dominate them as leaders of the pack, and, in their Lord of Darkness write up, Ghasts cannot be repelled by the usual anti-undead means (you have to repel them using cold iron, as you would a demon), so they have a less weaknesses. They're extraplanar in nature (no longer considered native to the material plane, but to the Abyss) and their souls are likewise bound to the Lower Plane that made them when they die, so they're... kind of minor demons themselves, in a way.

Replace "ghoul" with "vampire" and "demon" with "devil" and it doesn't seem far off from being similar.

Devils are also known for their mortal-like lusts and desires (such as food, despite not needing it) - it'd be interesting if the source of the Ascdendant's newly restored "mortal appetites" was from becoming a devil (or partially one).

Ghasts were described as the "Hounds of the Abyss" used by demons to track quarry, and I imagine the Vampire Ascendant is serving this purpose for Baator (which is also very devil-esque):

"Powerful lawful evil mortals are often more valuable to devilkind as living beings operating on the Material Plane. When alive, they can bring about the damnations of hosts of other souls, or pursue other goals of the hellish hierarchy."

#Choosing the Dracula+ ending and not getting damnation in the package is incredibly boring imo #It's the usual deal: You bring victims back so that their souls can be consumed by your master. But this time you get a nicer cage. For now #One does not pick the edgy dead dove ending if one does not want darkness and angst #Or maybe some people do but I don't #headcanoning. #/ascended astarion #/astarion #edgelord hours #long post

[phlve]

Psychosophy Descriptions — LEFV

A person, a carrier of this type, is thoughtful, balanced, delicate, peaceful, and reasonable, inclined to the logical and philosophical understanding of the world. The thirst for intellectual knowledge is one of the main features of his character, and he pays special attention to the knowledge of everything new.

His inner attitude: the world is systemic, thought can explain a lot, the world is open for research, everything is predetermined and not accidental, everything has a deep meaning, mediated by cause-and-effect relationships. The material world is imperfect and needs endless transformation for comfort and convenience, and I know how to make it perfect; something is wrong with my health and appearance; the well-being of the family and offspring are my main values.

As they get older, Augustine type people tend to have a religious outlook (“everything, including toothache, is God’s will!”)

Interest in various philosophical and mathematical models of the world order, psychology, mythology, religion, philosophy in all its diversity implies the presence of one's own firm opinion, and it is difficult to convince such a person. In the case of a high intellectual level of development of his personality and the presence of educational baggage, he feels comfortable in science, primarily theoretical. He has an excellent memory, excellent erudition, deep, solid knowledge on certain issues, acquired in the process of self-education.

His character is manifested in a flexible form of communication, a critical analysis of the surrounding reality, based on his own ideas; inclination to dogmatism, peremptory and unconditional confidence in one's own rightness; promoting their ideas and views.

In everyday communication, such person is an excellent interlocutor, quite emotional and pleasant. He is characterized by a subtle sense of humor, an original sense of beauty, an interest in complex and unusual art, such as cinema, graphics, folklore, oriental dances, and some spiritual practices. He is artistic, emotionally relaxed, his emotions are free and adequate to the moment communication, and he always knows how to say what is needed. Sometimes sadness visits him due to the feeling of his ordinary human weakness in front of the objective difficulties generated by the surrounding material world, and due to the feeling of being a “black sheep” among people.

A person of the “Augustine” type subtly feels the physical condition of friends and relatives and selflessly takes care of them. He himself has health problems, chronic diseases. However, despite his suspiciousness, he is engaged in prevention and tends to a healthy lifestyle. It is very difficult for him to eradicate bad habits (if any): the strong-willed qualities of character are poorly expressed. He carefully hides his external physiological defects. He feels a split and uncertainty in relations with the world of material things - everything that relates to the body, appearance, fashion, nutrition, and carnal pleasures. He fears more than other physical violence and beatings. He equips his permanent and even temporary home with joy and special meaning. Works to exhaustion, not knowing the measure.

Money is extremely important to him. If they are not enough, he tends to a minimum (if only he was guaranteed) and is content with little, dreaming of still earning a quality life for his family. He has a difficult sex life, because he is selective, cowardly, unpredictable in sensations, clean and squeamish at the same time, and at the same time risks changing sexual partners and preferences.

He is a person who is not self-confident in everyday life, peaceful, benevolent, avoiding conflicts in all areas of life, except for intellectual disputes. In rare disputes and discussions, hidden, sometimes powerful intellectual cynicism, global and systematic thinking, accuracy as a quality of his mindset make themselves felt.

He is interested in promoting his ideas, would like to meet a like-minded person with pronounced strong-willed character traits.

It is more convenient for "Augustine" to be led, subordinate, sacrificial in everyday affairs and events. He believes in Destiny.

In an extreme situation, he can act decisively and surprise everyone (including himself) with heroism, courage, physical and mental endurance, and intellectual power. Capable of records and victory in sports.

Source: The16Types

#personality theory #personality types #typology #attitudinal psyche #pscyhe yoga #psychosophy #lefv #infj #infp

[mbti-notes]

Hello there. This is a theoretical question, I am looking for feedback, does the (physical)tiring effect of the inferior function (when it is used properly)ever go away in later stages (in stage 5+) or does this effect stay even when one is able to use the function maturely. Thank you.

If you're going to ask a theoretical question, you should still explain why you're asking or what prompts your personal interest in it, so that I get a better sense of what kind of answer you're looking for. It's not really the right question to ask. The framing of the question seems to imply that the tiring effect is a bad thing, perhaps a "weakness" of some kind to be fixed by "leveling up" through the ego development stages? It's not a "weakness", "flaw", or "problem" to be fixed or eliminated. (People at later stages realize this, even though they have more mental energy freed up for using lower functions.)

It's a fact of psychology that your mental resources are finite and limited. Your functional stack is organized in a way to promote efficient use of resources, which means, by design, you shouldn't need to use the inferior function very much in the first place. The tiring effect is a feature, not a bug. It's there to inform you that you're not using your mental resources efficiently. It's an important feedback mechanism for maintaining psychological equilibrium. If you feel compelled to use the inferior function a lot, it's likely an indication that something in your psychology is amiss or out of balance.

#inferior #functional stack #development #ask

[platonical-omegaverse]

#1 : the basics

i’m going to use the six secondary gender system, so the theoretical universe will have alphas, gammas, betas, deltas, omegas and sigmas. i was actually inspired from this post.

-

Children usually present around the age of 12 to 14. though, you can easily find out someone’s secondary gender by getting them checked by a doctor when they are toddlers. results would change due to psychological circumstances.

That’s why its very much mandatory for middle schoolers to wear scent patches and take scent suppressants as they couldn’t control their scents as this age which can disrupt other newly presented kids.

They can wear disposable patches, which are like literal patches that will be stuck on scent glands, procedures usually just makes middle schoolers’ wear the patches by their nape, since scents released there is stronger than the other scent gland locations.

Families that are well-off can buy scent collars. These are reusable and can be easily adjusted. These are collars designed to perfectly encase scent glands. Unlike the disposable patches, these collars will absolutely have no scent escaping from it’s coverage + cannot be easily removed.

Once these kids present, it is mandatory for the school to give them,, sex-ed classes and second-gender centred social studies as after classes to ensure 100% understanding of their genders. We wouldn’t like any unnecessary bullying because someone presented as an omega, don’t we?

Things like heats and ruts are completely non-sexual when they are kids. Adult stuff begins at age 21.

second gender specific headcanons :

(AA) Alphas;

- They are often the shortest ones out of the litter before they get their very very noticeable growth sprouts. 

- They get stupidly territorial after they present. Newly presented Alphas fight over the most pettiest things. The school councilor will always get at least one fight because of whoever owns the pencil or pen found on the floor.

- Alphas are the ones who starts to instigate packs within their peers. Presented or not, groups who are already friends will soon have pack dynamics and it’s usually these ones who will start scenting their friends. 

(AB) Gammas;

- Gammas, are usually the first ones recruited into Alpha’s newly formed packs. As it’s often that even before they present, Gamma and Alpha pairs were already close.

- They are much tamer compared to alphas, but their A dominant gene type still makes them a threat to the councilor office. 

- Pletora of edgy kids, peculiar interests, ugh.

(BB) Betas

- They present the earliest! Although it’s very hard to determine when, but they begin to release faint scents and will be more sensitive to scents. Beta kids are the first ones to point out to teachers that one of their classmates are probably presenting at the moment.

- Often are the nicest kids in the batch. Betas usually are the most academic-focused since their type won’t affect their mental states as much as their peers.

- Their type don’t usually wear scent patches. But the school would still ask them to.

(BO) Deltas

- Social butterflies but not really? Ambiverts. They typically get along with everyone, in a pack. They’re often the ones who try to break up fights made by the Alpha types.

- They prefer smaller packs, because Omega types are more sensitive to scents.

(OO) Omegas

- Timid kids, yet the clingiest out of all of them. Heats are stressful for them and for their family as they need constant attention before they breakdown and cry.

- Scent collars are discounted by the government, as Omegas has the most potent smell, second to Sigmas, that is.

- They usually get ‘adopted’ last by packs as most Omegas are introverts when they newly present, since the stigma of ‘weak’ Omegas usually makes them fearful by their peers.

(OA) Sigmas

- The most rarest type, and the most troublesome type. Adding to their collars, they’re also asked to wear wrist-bands as their scents are more potent than Omegas. Sigmas are also prone to mood-swings which affects the whole scent business.

- Adults feel bad for newly presented Sigmas since their gender affects them a whole lot after they present. These kids often get depressed at an early age due to hormones that will always send them into constant confusion of their feelings. 

- Newly presented Sigmas are more emotionally sensitive than their peers. So they get their emo phases earlier- jk. But overtime they get more aggressive and eventually fight their Alpha sub-cousins if they want to. They might be more tame when they grow older. 

#platonic omegaverse #omegaverse #abo #alpha #beta #omega #delta #gamma #sigma #omegaverse headcanon

[hamliet]

Hi again, I'm so sorry to keep asking you questions but Shigaraki face is gone, doesn't that mean Shig is. And why did the hand on his face make him bleed.. im so confused. Why would Afo give control back. And if Shigaraki not the final boss doesn't that mean he dies cause he is determined to surpass afo thats what he wants. I like the idea of Shigaraki defeating AFO but at this point I just want him to not be in pain. I'm so panicked Thanks for all the answers you've given me

Hi, no worries!! I can’t answer the specifics of it because I don’t have the chapter yet. But I can give you some answers.

You have to think narratively, not according to real world logic, nor according to “what ifisms” wherein theoretically anything can happen. Narratively, every moment in a story is supposed to serve a purpose, building for a certain ending (the ending can be as specific or vague as a writer wants). The reader should expect a certain ending if they pay attention. The ending for BNHA I can tell you right now is “heroes save.” What that looks like specifically Horikoshi has a much better idea than we do. Now, the better writing is, the more every moment matters. BNHA is not perfectly written--no story is--but it is decently written insofar as the parts of the story are working together.

An author is not going to spend almost 300 chapters building up a villain as a victim and then have them vanish from the narrative. Additionally, within the story’s own logic, that isn’t how AFO works. AFO recognizes that Shigaraki’s comrades are giving Shigaraki power to keep going; he says it is all for his purpose, but AFO works through manipulation. If we analyze all the patterns of how AFO treats Shigaraki, All Might, and others, we realize that as much of a quirk collector as he is, his primary weapon is mental warfare. He even says it to All Might in Kamino when he reveals Shigaraki is Nana’s grandson: you know it’s the kind of thing I would do. He uses AM’s strength (saving people) to highlight his weakness (he didn’t save Nana nor her grandson).

So, AFO is using psychological warfare on Shigaraki and the league. How does AFO do this? Well, like any good cult leader/manipulator, he plays on both a victim’s strengths and weaknesses. He manipulates Shigaraki by saving him ostensibly (giving Shigaraki what he craves by taking him in and telling him his quirk doesn’t make him bad), but is actually just continuing to abuse him (playing on Shigaraki’s weakness: fear of trusting others and planning to use that quirk and Shigaraki’s pain for his own purposes; he’s not trying to heal Shigaraki’s trauma).

Saving the League is the same thing. For one, Shigaraki cares about the League, so he has to save the League to show Shigaraki “see how much I care.” For another, the League gives Shigaraki power, with AFO apparently says this chapter, so it serves AFO’s purpose as well and gives potential to use his caring for his comrades against him. The League loves Shigaraki, so AFO wants to use that love of Shigaraki, which means he’s going to have to keep Shigaraki around to keep the League around, or else Shigaraki’s power is lessened. He’s not trying to hide that he’s currently possessing him, though, because he probably does plan to do it permanently eventually (it won’t work). He even said as much this chapter as well: he wants Tomura to hone his (Tomura’s) hatred, but the League is also nurturing Tomura’s healing.

As for Shigaraki himself, I would be shocked if AFO doesn’t use this to manipulate him into letting AFO take over more “see how your comrades almost died! see how much I care!” However, Shigaraki very much has his own identity and isn’t particularly keen on letting AFO possess him. He needs the League to remind him whom he is and this is where AFO is building AFO’s own downfall without realizing it: a selfish, self-centered man who thinks everything is his doesn’t get that Shigaraki is so cared for because he doesn’t treat his comrades like everything belongs to him and like they are his property, but instead his friends.

No, Shigaraki not being the final boss does not mean he dies. Few villains in BNHA die anyways (like... even the most vicious of them, Musclar and Chisaki, are still alive). But those villains were introduced and dispatched in one arc; Shigaraki has been built up throughout the entire series. His story will matter for the endgame. AFO being the final boss likely means a Shgiaraki+Deku team up at some point to defeat a common enemy, not a death. (The emphasis on Deku noticing Shigaraki wanted to be saved from AFO’s bodily possession also might be a good sign that Shigaraki needs to be saved physically as well as spiritually/mentally, aka survive the redemption).

As for wanting him not to be in pain... unfortunately, villains suffer, and villains who get redemption, as Shigaraki most likely is going to, suffer even more. I’m  not saying this is a moral thing like “they must suffer or no redemption for you!”, but this is how things tend to go in stories. Shigaraki, Dabi, and Toga will suffer (as Enji does as well). But suffering shouldn’t always end in death, and I don’t think it will for the three of them (but it’s way too soon to say; the endgame is where this will be decided and honestly, we’re at least a hundred chapters from that if not more).

#ask hamliet #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #spoilers #bnha 295 #mha 295 #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #afo #all for one #bnha theory #mha theory

[ajthembtinerd412]

The Originals: Camille O’Connell: INFJ 1w2

Myers Briggs: INFJ

Ni: Camille is extremely analytical and intuitive about people. She is good at reading between the lines and figuring out what people are thinking or feeling. She is a good strategist and thinks things through. She always develops a plan before acting.

Fe: Cami is openly expressive of her feelings and is very compassionate. She believes that people are good, but she still has a realistic view of the world and the darkness that exists inside of people. She cares about social norms and is quick to remind Klaus of them when he breaks one of those rules.

Ti: Cami is logical and impartial. She is good at noticing other people’s logical inconsistencies. She is very inquisitive and theoretical. She takes a systematic apprach towards her own darkness as well as Klaus’s and everyone around her. She is generally rational and level headed when making decisions.

Se: Cami is not the best fighter, and uses her ability to plan and strategize to overcompensate for this. When Klaus takes her dark objects, she takes the white oak because she believes the only way to protect herself is to have an advantage against her potential adversaries, vampires that are stronger than her. She appears to be in the grip of Se, acting impulsively to try and protect herself due to her anxiety about her physical abilities.

Enneagram: 1w2 Tritype 162

Cami is very principled and perfectionistic. She believes in the goodness of people and hopes to bring out Klaus’s kinder side and help him become a better person. She is ambitious and disciplined. She takes care of her friends and wants to be a good, loving person. When she becomes a vampire, she disintegrates to 7 and becomes much more impulsive and less perfectionistic. Cami wants to be a good person, and is terrified of her own inner darkness and attraction to Klaus because of this darkness. She is afraid she will end up like her brother before finding out he was hexed, and studies psychology to understand her own darkness after assaulting a man in college.

Attitudinal Psyche: LEFV

1L Confident Logic: Cami is very inquisitive and theoretical, relying on logical frameworks in psychology to understand the world around her. She believes in objectivity and logical consistency. She becomes frustrated when others behave in an irrational way and is a very logical person. She believes in a logical explanation to everything and even applies psychology to vampire mind compulsion.

2E Flexible Emotion: She is very compassionate and accepting of others and their emotions. She is very expressive and open. She tends to be the peacemaker when needed. She tends to see emotions in shades of gray, not judging those who do not live up to the same moral/ social standards too harshly. Instead she empathizes with and tries to understand these individuals, not having a black and white view of emotions.

3F Insecure Physics: She is not the best at combat and is very aware of this vulnerability, making her feel unsafe after Aurora turns her. She overcompensates for this weakness with her planning abilities.

4V Unbothered Volition: Cami is not as focused on controlling her environment or getting results, but on her understanding of the world around her in regards to people and in empathizing with the emotions of others.

#cami o'connell #klaus mikaelson #the originals #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson #hope mikaelson #infj #myers briggs #enneagram #1w2 #tritype #lefv #attitudinal psyche #the vampire diaries #legacies

[chorusnihili]

what is wd gasters past

"A rather broad and invasive question, I'd say, but I suppose I can give you the rundown."

"I was born on the surface while tensions were already high, enough that my parents, assuming that I had them, were gone before I had a chance to remember them. I was mostly raised by a mismatch village of monsters; well-cared for, not the only one that didn't have a specific home."

"I didn't miss living on the surface and never wished to return there, quite frankly. The only thing that made it worth living there is that in my final few years there, I did have something close to an adoptive parent. Who, unfortunately, chose death over leaving their home."

"A lot of monsters like to paint the underground as this hellish, soul-sucking fate worth than death. Personally I never found it that bad. I suppose I never was the type to feel wanderlust or anything of the sort. I was happy merely knowing we were safe and humanity likely had no interest in pursuing us."

"So I dedicated most of my life to making the Underground as good a place as possible. Anything that could make life more bearable. Try to cheer up those affected the worst by the change. During this time, a lot of monsters took up psychology; you can find a lot of studies on stress, despair, and trauma written during this time; techniques for coping and helping loved ones, many of which still hold up to this day."

"Unfortunately given the fact that communication has always been a hassle to me, it ultimately wasn't a field of study that suited me well, although I've been told I'm a good listener."

"So my attention broke from such studies to poking around the world about me. Much of the underground was new and needed to be explored and understood, and, what can I say, I was young and ready to believe that magic could do anything. Except, maybe, restore my eyesight. Heh."

"The migration through the underground was relatively linear. The forests of Home, the snowy landscapes of Snowdin, the rainy marsh of Waterfall, the deep caves of Hotland, and finally, the empty caves of New Home. But New Home was the end. The final stop. Assuming a vaguely dome-shaped barrier forming to the shape of the mountain, we had found it on all sides; the entrance at Home, the exit at New Home, the presumably small entries in Waterfall that human trash falls through, the tunnels in Hotland that the lava flows through. We reached the end; there was nowhere else to go."

"Monsters began to fan out, build permanent civilizations. Asgore and Toriel chose to build their castle and kingdom right on the cusp of the barrier; why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it was meaningful, to them. A sign of having conquered the humans, something to put them at ease. I never asked, it never seemed appropriate."

"Although many monsters seemed disappointed that there was nowhere else to go, I found a sense of satisfaction from it. We had discovered everything; there was nothing else that might creep out from the shadows. We had an understanding of the world we now lived in, a map from top to bottom, left to right. And now, all we had to do was reshape it into the world we wanted it to be."

"Much of my early life was uneventful. I spent a lot of time in theoretical research, interested in the topics of how and why magic worked, but specifically, the interaction of two magical forces. Why some attacks seemed to be so devastating and others seemed to do no damage at all.  A spent a fair amount of years analyzing magic, categorizing it, writing formulae for the so called Stats, for LOVE, EXP, HP, ATK, DEF, INV, et cetera, et cetera.  Frankly, the field is incomplete; close enough for most situations, I think, but not perfect.  I found it wasteful to continue efforts on it.  I believe that the main goal of science is to improve life; if the science cannot be applied to do so, then I do not see the point in continuing it.”

“My studies were broad and varied.  Sometimes I’d dip into the health sciences, sometimes I’d dip into architecture.  I’d do odd favors for people, look into anything that caught my interest, sometimes even take up tasks for the King himself; ones of minor interest that he didn’t want to bother the Royal Scientist with.”

“But, the focal point of my studies always came back to energy.  What could we do with it?  How can we harness it?  All monsters are made up of energy, of magic, it’s inherent to our souls, the way we express ourselves, even our body is made of magic, turns into magical dust due to a complicated chemical reaction when HP is depleted.”

“This, of course, lead to my most famous accomplishment.  The idea of using magic to power things had been around forever, before recorded history.  But there was always a mage or monster involved, directly or indirectly powering the thing in question.  I sought to cut out the intentional casting of a spell to induce power.  After all, this entire Underground was full of ambient magic; from previous spells, simply from Monsters existing; recycled, reused, breathed in and out, baked into food and released again:  Why couldn’t the world itself power things?” 

“It turned out to be more complicated than expected; failure after failure taught me that it simply wasn’t feasible to use magic without a soul casting it.  But, we found another way--and to be fair, it wasn’t exactly an idea so much as exploratory research, but research with very promising results.  Promising enough to earn me another scar on my face, heh.  Had one of the other scientists not pulled me out of the way, I might have been destroyed by the CORE before the CORE was even a thing.”

“Nonetheless I was far from discouraged.  I was actually very ecstatic.  Enough so that Asgore had a very hard time calming me down and getting me to explain what had happened and why I had a new crack down my face.”

“I started work on the CORE immediately.  Sketching out blueprints and gathering people to start building the skeletal structure of the building while I put together the intricacies of the mechanism that would create and convert pure energy that could be harnessed and used for whatever purposes we desired.  It took a very long time, but it’s no doubt one of my greatest creations.  Asgore asked me to take up the position of Royal Scientist not long after.  I accepted, of course, I wouldn’t think of declining, but it was a very strange thing to me.”

“It wasn’t long after that when the human child arrived.  I remember hearing about it, one of the other scientists telling me that Asriel had chosen to keep the child.  Keep the child, I had thought, like a pet, like a person would choose to keep a dog or a cat.  I thought it frankly ridiculous, but having the human child around brought a new era of hope to the kingdom and, I, ... couldn’t resist being pulled along.  I personally thought that the idea of peace between humans and monsters was ridiculous, but it was such a pleasant idea and the people were so happy...”

“Of course, it didn’t last.  In a single night, both the human child and Asriel had passed away.  The duo had broken through the barrier, only to seal their own deaths.  It was a travesty.  A whirlwind of horrors, one after another.  The devastation, the despair--it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even when humanity had first sealed us underground.  At least then, we had the relief of peace.  Now, we had nothing.”

“The King declared war on humanity.”

“It was a dark time.”

“The peaceful life I had was replaced by one of fear and anxiety.  I knew what humans were capable of.  I lived through it, I wore the mark of their hostility on my skull--and Asgore wanted to willingly throw us back into that over revenge?  We wouldn’t survive.  There was no way we’d survive.  But if there was any chance of giving us any sort of fighting chance, I was going to find it.” 

“My research turned from finding ways to make the underground better to combat.  Once again, energy proved to be my friend.  I revisited old research about LOVE and EXP and ATK and DEF--and wrote up a hypothesis about another state.  ITK.  Intent to Kill.  Unlike LOVE and EXP, which are slowly, solely increasing values, ITK rapidly fluctuates and acts as a modifier on attack.  Even a soul with a LOVE of 1 can do an extreme amount of damage if they, in a particular moment, are filled with the desire to kill the one they are striking.”

“Monsters aren’t made for war.  In general, monsters aren’t made for hurting each other.   It’s one of the many reasons we were slaughtered so mercilessly.  So I created a ... weapon.  That could circumvent that weakness.  The ITK Blasters, as I called them, could take even the smallest ITK and multiply it to do horrific damage.”

“I did other research on the topic as well.  How to convert HP into a temporary boost of ATK.  With these two advancements...even a monster as relatively weak as I am could be incredibly strong.”

“I wanted to perfect the techniques before I tried teaching them to anyone.  But, such things never came to pass.  Asgore lost his will to continue seeking war.  He knew that he had only declared war in a fit of rage and to give his people hope.  So rather than continue killing, he wanted to find a different way to bring everyone hope.  He wanted to find a way to break the barrier without anymore bloodshed.  He asked me to research the human souls.”

“...”

“I wanted no parts of it.  We got into a ... rather nasty fight.  I said a lot of things I regret.  I called him a coward for bending to the will of his people instead of doing what was right.  I told him that any attempt to breach the barrier would result in the complete extinction of our species.  I told him that it was his job as king to protect us, not lead us to our death.”

“I was angry and afraid, and I took it out on the wrong monster.”

“It’s about at this point that you really cannot understand my history without a basic understanding of how time flows.  I’ll spare you the lecture of multiple timelines and parallel realities, but at the very least, you must understand that the flow of time is... well, it is inherently linear, but, consider it like a... I want to say a Turing Machine.  Or perhaps, a VHS Tape.  The same segments can be replayed again and again, can be overwritten, can change from iteration to iteration.”

“So the fact that Asgore died in this timeline...and is still alive in the current timeline...it may at first seem contradictory, but it is not, I assure you.”

“Asgore’s death hit the Underground hard.  Undyne took over as Queen, but the knowledge that the last remaining member of the Royal Family was gone still loomed over everyone’s heads.  Undyne was more determined than Asgore ever was to free the monsters and I felt like there was nothing I could do.”

“So...There was little I did.  I was overwhelmed with grief and hatred.  I kept at the research.  I honed the abilities, again and again and again.  I drove myself to exhaustion, I isolated myself.  I barely slept and ate.  I neglected my duties and while the others understood I was grieving, it eventually got to the point that Queen Undyne delivered the ultimatum that I had to either get my act together or surrender my position as Royal Scientist.  I resigned without any argument.”

“Much of the time is a blur.  Most of my studies and research done with poor practices and hardly documented.  The research that lead to me creating Sans falls into this. I wished to know if...  

“Of course, two monsters can create another soul.  This much is obvious, monsters reproduce on a regular basis, enough that in the modern day, there’s an ongoing population crisis for monsters that need certain environments.  But I wanted to know if ... a monster, could theoretically, singularly donate a portion of their soul and create another living monster out of it.”

“This is probably a piece of research that very much fits the criteria of not stopping to think whether or not I should try to do so.”

“It required extracting part of my soul.  Which, to do so without killing the monster, requires a massive power source...luckily, or unluckily, I had the entire CORE at my disposal.  So I constructed a machine that could, indeed, extract part of my soul.  What resulted was the most painful experience of my life and left me comatose for six months.  It’s also the cause of the circular scars in my palms.”

“I hadn’t intended to extract two pieces of my soul, but, it happened, whether through oversight or simply as a matter of how the procedure was carried out.  I used the smaller piece to create Sans; intending to keep the larger piece for further study.  I destroyed everything used in the experiment afterwards.  I felt it was something that no monster should have the power to do.”

“That’s not to say I regret creating them.  I don’t, and nothing will ever change that opinion, even knowing some of the terrible things they’ve done in other timelines.  But I do regret the methods that lead to their creation.”

“I don’t know why Sans is so weak.  And I resisted the urge to try to figure it out.  There’s a fine line between a healthy interest in your child’s health and treating them as a science experiment, and I ... wanted to stay as far away as possible from that line.  He’s fine the way he is.  He doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“That didn’t stop me from using the second piece of my soul to create Papyrus to look after him, though.  Or teaching him magic to the best of my ability, even teaching him how to use the Gaster Blasters.”

“Having them...helped.  A lot.  I won’t say whether I was very good at it, but I enjoyed being a father very much.  The grief was still heavy, but I was able to start returning to a somewhat normal life, and even start following what was going on in the Underground again.  I learned of Doctor Alphys’s research on the human souls, and though I personally disagreed with it... decided to look into it in Asgore’s honor.”

“My immediate thought was that her ideas about Determination could mesh well with my previous research about soul extraction, albeit with a few modifications--although I had destroyed the equipment I used for the process, I remembered it well enough.  So I got to work on a theoretical DT Extractor; but the further I got with it, the more horrified I became.”

“I simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of it.  Humans or not, already dead or not--the mere idea of extracting the literal lifeforce out of a soul...  No.  It was not a process I would condone.”

“I had just finalized my decision to destroy the blueprints when I fell.”

“It was... a laughably simple mistake, really.  The CORE is designed to rearrange itself to prevent the wear from the heat from causing too much damage in any one area.  The doors pneumatically seal themselves to prevent egress during this time but...  I was simply too distracted by the blueprints and I opened the door, and walked through anyways.”

“There were no further safeguards.  There was nothing I could do to save myself.  It was over before I had a chance.”

“...”

“I don’t regularly talk about my time in the void.  Not because doing so bothers me, but because it’s simply... indescribable.  When I awoke, I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t speak.  There was no me, but my consciousness existed.  I could see and hear thousands of timelines at once, as if I was standing in an arena, with each and every seat filled with a television playing a different movie.  A jumbling mess of information.”

“I have no idea how long I was there for.  It was like learning to exist all over again.  Step by step.  Learning how to move closer to visions of interest.  Learning how to seep into those visions.  Learning how to block out the immense noise.  Learning how to speak without a body.  Learning how to see the void.  Learning how to construct a body out of it.  Learning how to hunt down my timeline.”

“In many ways, it was a rebirth, and with each and every step, I lost more of myself.  I lost myself to the aching hole of my soul being missing.  I lost my conscience, I lost my heart.  I dedicated everything to the endless goal of stitching myself back together again.”

“I learned so much about the reality I live in.  How malleable it and time is.  I evolved into something grotesque, something that shouldn’t be alive.  I gained power that no monster or human should have.  Things, and even souls, could be changed at my whim.  And yet the one thing I truly wanted seemed to be impossible.”

“I did a lot of terrible things while I was stuck like that.  Some were intentional, some less so.  Many were reset thanks to Flowey, others will never be fixed.”

“I have Sans to thank for finally helping me to achieve the goal, even if not fully.  He built a machine that gathered enough of my soul that... I’m able to manifest my original form and can think clearly once again.”

“Even so...  It didn’t change the fact that my soul is still shattered, somehow held together by the tug-of-war between Determination and Void, and that my fall into the Void reset the timeline into a state where I never existed.”

“And that leads us to now.  The Gaster you currently speak to exists in a timeline that has made it to the surface, though I’m not particularly fond of being up there and generally hide in my lab in the CORE.”

“Well, I certainly hope you didn’t expect even a rundown of over a thousand years to be short.”

“...Or, were you posing the question to someone other than myself...?”

#let type = answer #Anonymous #let type = headcanon #let type = in character #let form = refused #((Gaster stop talking holy shit

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

31 Days of Apex Legends

Little bit behind, but I combined Days 1 & 2 (Pride & Friendship)

Chapter 1 of an upcoming fic I am still writing.

-----------------

Title: Pride & Assumed Prejudice

Chapter 1: Masks

Something sour lingered on the tip of his tongue, on the razor’s edge of every thought; like a granule of poison sinking slowly into a beverage, unseen as the hapless victim takes a sip. Unnecessary, unnerving, and oddly enough, inducing a curiously debilitating sensation of anxiety for the first time in well over a decade. An emotion long-ago thought cordoned off, and utterly aggravating in its resurgence.

One could theoretically shut it out with enough mental fortitude and regimented distraction, but this tended to only provide short-term relief, for it always returned; faster, stronger, more pervasive than the last time. A creeping sense of wrongness that seemed to seep through every vein, clutching tightly to each breath as it worked to enter his lungs, twisting his stomach at random intervals, and reigniting old memories best left buried in unmarked graves. Unmourned and unwelcome.

At least, that is what Caustic tells himself.

There seems to be some level of psychological impairment at work, he rationalises in the depths of the night when he can barely think for the voiceless fears that make his heart race and air withdraw from ravaged lungs before it can fully impart its gift. The only hypothesis that makes even the vaguest sense is that there is likely a chemical agent of some kind, a poison, being introduced into some facet of his daily routine that is affecting his mental faculties?

Caustic is perplexed to find that his bloodwork runs clean each time, as do random samples of his food stores, lab equipment, clothing, cleaning products, furniture, air filtration units, plants and even toothpaste. Though he runs them often, at random, in hopes of locating the culprit for these uncomfortable sensations, these distractions from his research. Randomising events on his mental schedule each day in order to avoid any other human or non-organic being from identifying his routine again; if they ever even had. And yet, it persists.

Denial is perhaps the only shield that he will not admit to using, in this instance. Though for all his great logic, his knowledge and emphatic belief in the fundamental laws of science… there is still a strange feeling that persists in coursing through his veins. If he would allow himself but a moment to acknowledge it, to let it in and experience the sensation then it may lead to a breakthrough… but at what cost? If the facade falls, then who would he be?

Yet still his whole body feels electrified from within; as if sensing a change coming, like the increased atmospheric pressure before a thunderstorm. Everything that had been built was starting to decay, and it was not clear why now, why this year… why this ridiculous event was the catalyst. Even though such an obvious connection between this heightened emotional state and the particular time of year never actually occurred to the unnaturally overwrought man.

As the days between the present and the event grew shorter, and the other Legends began to ramp up their ridiculous displays of personal expression, the odd physiological effects increased exponentially, until simply existing in the same dwelling had become almost unbearable. It was merely because the others were younger, more prone to ludicrous displays of ebullience, constantly impeding his research with their tomfoolery… yes, that must be it. The reassurances ring hollow, even to his own mind.

Yet still the simple fact remained… that the year previous, as a new Legend, this whole event had been laughably easy to ignore. So why did it bring such distress, such melancholy? What variable had changed between these two points in time that was bringing this insidious juggernaut of disruption to his mind, body and experiment schedule?

Despite what he, at the time, perceived as his best efforts to provide a front of general indifference and borderline contempt for the ‘nonsensical festivities’ of the majority of the other Legends; it became apparent that these actions were not nearly enough to stave off the eyes of the irritating coworkers. Without even realising, Caustic was shrinking away, becoming distant once more and this, in turn, naturally raised a few eyebrows.

Certainly, he was not the most extroverted or beloved amongst their ranks, but at the insistence of Miss Pacquette, that damnable Gibraltar, and the unerringly difficult to evade Salvonian he had been making small forays into socialising in the name of increasing battle compatibility with the others. In the name of increasing battle efficiency, of course.

Caustic’s sudden detraction from even the few low-key communal activities he had begrudgingly begun to attend on a generally regular basis in their shared lodgings, such as the occasional movie night or weekly shared meal, was a blatant signal to the more empathetic and suspicious of the Legends that something was not right here. Some moved immediately to paranoid delusions, others queried if the scientist was unwell or had been caught up in work and forgot; Caustic could always feel Miss Pacquette’s eyes on him these days. Waiting for him to do something she could no longer forgive.

The sting of her derision only made matters worse, silencing all explanations he might give to the others when they arrived at his assigned room; so that all any who arrived saw was a brief silhouette before the door slammed shut in their faces. Assuming hostility, when the words were simply trapped inside; not wanting to admit this disgusting weakness that clawed, bit and screamed every moment of every day.

However, it was the unintended actions that gave rise to what came next; and he could blame none other than himself. For, as the foolish often do, a handful of those in the complex began to conjecture… rumour, if you will, and they spread like an unchecked wildfire. Caustic was not able to tell if they had been an errant thought turned unintentionally malicious or the deliberate attempt of one of his detractors like Loba or Crypto; and as much as he wished to close off the side of himself that felt anguish at these new beliefs swirling between his coworkers… he could not.

To say the rumours were incorrect would be an understatement, but even he could see how the gossip-mongers amongst their ranks had extrapolated a tenuous but alluring hypothesis that slandered his character, from such limited data points as were available. Especially after their foray to… the planet of his youth, most recently.

It seemed wherever he went, that blasted Crypto seemed to be hovering nearby with a smug look on his face; as if waiting for the opportune moment to mention a few inconvenient truths. Did the younger man realise what was happening to him? Could he use that drone of his to deliver a toxic compound into Caustic’s chambers when the scientist was absent? No, no of course not. Mystik would never forgive him… unless he could provide a plausible alibi. Even that particular train of thought was beginning to wear on him, feeling more tangible each time his brain brought the concept up. Actual poison was not the hacker’s style; but social poison, the slow and cruel kind that seeped from mouth to mouth, assassinating without a blade… that might be plausible.

These days, Caustic found his pulse always quickened when he caught sight of the hacker in the living complex, the anxiety making his mind rush through the worst possible scenarios of his secret being openly divulged to the masses without warning; even though some seemed utterly ridiculous. What would happen, after all? The worst case scenario? Repulsion from the others would be one thing, a natural consequence of their newfound awareness of his misdeeds and discovering the depths of his past, somewhat less than legal, activities. A strong possibility that perhaps the Legends would take the rash step of immediately contacting authorities to attend the Legend dwellings; something even Caustic would understand as rational.

Yet still, with his normally formidable intellect being absolutely and utterly subsumed under false assumptions and fallacies; the kind only a mind shuddering on the verge of collapse could generate… far worse fates arose like apparitions behind his eyelids. Such as the bizarre and somewhat infuriating insistence of his anxiety-ridden mind that the other Legends could hear of his past and simply decide to take matters into their own hands; pretending all is well until an opportunity arose to publicly execute Caustic themselves, mid-match with his beacon deactivated, for all the world to see. To denounce him in such a way that none could ever assume they had kept his secret; the disgust on their faces as they would wipe his blood from their skin would be proof enough.

Often in the depths of night Caustic muses on this highly improbable outcome. Yet, he finds that the variable of the scenario that keeps him awake is simply that, in this outcome there was the uncomfortably very real possibility of his Mother inadvertently bearing witness to the second death of her son; a thought that makes his chest constrict with a nameless horror. She loved to watch the games, according to that brat she favoured so much… and he could not put her through that grief again.

No matter how nonsensical, the idea and an uncountable number of similarly impossible scenarios would repeat over and over again every waking moment of the day. And again throughout every second of sleep he managed to wrest from this endless void of uncertainty, until it felt like the only true outcome. Caustic was aware he was not thinking logically, or even assessing all the variables… but his mind clouded it all out with whispered worries to distract, to isolate and distress.

These imagined ends and their outcomes added an almost unfathomable heaviness to his existence; adding unearned gravitas to the myriad of little concerns, worries and secret guilts until they felt like a thick fog that obscured all rational thought. Every little concern, so often hidden from his own conscious mind by a never-ending series of experiments and day-to-day tasks he employed to quiet the thoughts he did not wish to entertain, was now screaming inside. Some days he felt not unlike a speaker, reverberating from the harsh beating of his heart, and almost surprised none other than himself could hear.

No, this was ridiculous. He could not allow this to continue, not if he wished to remain Caustic. As a Legend, as a researcher with endless funding as long as he gave the right results in battle, as a scientist seeking additional data, and… as reluctant as Caustic was to admit it, as a member of the rag-tag team that shared the Apex-funded lodgings. A collective, almost like a-...

The thought always shut off there, twisting to a rapid mental analysis of the other Legends for the sake of anything else to focus on. Certainly some of the other ‘champions’ were irritating and he found it difficult to deal with them for long; but others he had to concede were fascinating, and startlingly brilliant in their fields, many of whom were willing to engage in discussions about their expertise and experiences. Even with mild distrust guarding their words to begin with, until passion for the subject overtook their misgivings.

But, as loathe as he was to admit this to even himself; to Caustic... the legends themselves were something he was starting to feel part of. Somewhat like they were a-... the word lodged in his chest like a blunt knife, something that could cause harm if he ever admitted how far he had fallen into the illogical void of social intelligence. He railed against the term, but logically it was the only apt one available to describe this group of strange people; and that was… family.

Bile scorched the back of his throat as he allowed the thought to flow through him like a soundwave, the sentiment of it far more distressing than the physical sensations; as Caustic been under the strong impression of having successfully managed to cut off all sense of sentimentality, along with his fingers, on Gaea. This feeling, this potential vulnerability, was therefore repulsive.

However… it could not be denied that recently the increased socialisation had brought out some surprising connections and insights with the others. Even simple interactions such as providing a gruff thank you to a teammate for pinging a weapon component whilst looting was noted by the others; and the way that Caustic made certain to inoculate his squadmates before a match. Inconsequential activities, but seen… apparently. He had never noticed their eyes on him during these moments before… and now he felt as if they never ceased their burning gazes on his every breath, every twitch and thought.

As it stood, he was closer to some Legends than others; and had forged several, somewhat tenuous but holding, connections he was not wholly ashamed to admit.

For example, Caustic found Horizon’s expertise on astrological matters an excellent way to pass sleepless nights, when both found themselves in the kitchen for coffee at 2am. Minds full of half formed ideas, or regrets, and unable to speak them aloud to anyone; there was an odd companionship between the Legends, so close in age and so vastly apart in lived experiences. Or, at the least, the experiences of their alibis.

Even through the distress he felt, Caustic could not help but smile as he recalled that their first two meetings at such a location and hour had not gone quite so well as in recent times. For the good Dr Somers had been blissfully unaware that a rather prominent side effect of Caustic’s initial and continued toxin exposure often expressed itself as a bright green glow about his irises; therefore the first time they had met in the pitch-black kitchen at an ungodly hour, the astrophysicist had said some truly profane things and thrown a mug of hot coffee in his direction. Lifeline had not been pleased to deal with burns at that time, no matter how Horizon had insisted they needed a proper assessment of the damage, but the young woman seemed to have found the whole situation quite humorous in hindsight. Often making smart ‘Be careful, Doctor, that’s hot!’ quips when she caught either of them holding coffee.

Ah, but their second meeting of this nature had been different. Caustic had merely been resting his eyes at the kitchen island when Horizon had carefully crept inside the darkened room, footsteps barely audible, and proceeded to make herself coffee on the quietest setting possible. It was, in fact, the sound of her sipping the beverage that had roused Caustic, and Horizon had promptly performed an almost perfect spit take in shock at his ‘sudden appearance’. The stain in the wall had never quite come out and neither of the older Legends had bothered to inform the younger Legends how it had manifested. Though some had their suspicions...

There was a calming energy to Dr Somers, and she seemed to have a distance in her eyes that he could relate to without ever broaching the subject. When they spoke of stars, of technology to traverse the time and space between the worlds, there was a communion of unspoken camaraderie there that soothed in an inexplicable manner.

Of the others, Caustic had occasionally found himself ensconced in fascinating discussions and discourse with Mirage when the pair had found themselves trapped in a social setting, such as lunch in the common area, fumbling for topics. Or more accurately, Mirage visibly sifting for a safe topic to be polite, and Caustic pointing at whatever the man was tinkering with at that moment, in silent question. It was rather intriguing how the younger man’s stutter settled when he was intensely focused on a subject he enjoyed. Although it must be said that now the scientist knew entirely far too much about holographic projection technology, and he was hard pressed to find an application for just such knowledge in his research.

On a more irritating note, was Gibraltar’s continued attempts to convince Caustic that attending events such as karaoke night or some roleplaying adventure evening with the rest of the Legends would be fun, positive, and a good bonding experience; and not at all humiliating, bizarre or definitely subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known by the other champions. Disgustingly, Makoa Gibraltar was a weapons-grade optimist with a sharp mind behind that disarming smile of his.

Recognising that the current stratagem was not working as it allowed the subject too much free will, Gibraltar had added additional variables to his socialisation experiments with Caustic. Even since, Gibraltar had been occasionally dropping by with a small portion of some homemade meal or other; often with one of the other Legends as an unspoken form of backup. More often than not, in recent times, Fuse would be the person of choice.

The rescue specialist was a very large, very polite man who had gracefully accepted the times Caustic would shut the door in his face to avoid allowing anyone to breach his inner sanctum of isolation and research. Walter Fitzroy was decidedly not.

Fuse was a very charming man, but he genuinely believed that any closed door was an invitation to trial his knuckle clusters on it, ‘in the name of friendship’. The pair would then invite themselves inside, and somehow a conversation would occur about the most randomised of topics, amidst the hidden garden-like interior of Caustic’s quarters. After weathering the scientist’s myriad of multisyllabic protestations about property damage and right to privacy, with mildly amused expressions on their faces, of course. Now that he thought about the subject in detail, the visits had been increasing in duration rapidly in the past two months or so; detracting from his research, yes, but at the same time… Caustic had begun to find himself not wanting to reduce this contact in the slightest.

Rampart had recently asked Caustic, in a quiet moment, if he wanted something strong enough to withstand a knuckle cluster barrage whipped up, because he was more often without a door than with one these days. Caustic had found himself smiling under the mask as he declined; not catching her sly grin of understanding in response. “It’s your funeral mate…” she teased as she left. He still had not had a chance to analyse her meaning or motives in relation to that interaction.

Still skeptical of his motives, but warming, was Lifeline. On the odd occasion, the healer would simply come into the common area to ‘hang out’ with whomsoever was present, and initially this had been a frustrating strain on his limited social endurance. Especially if the runner joined in, or she decided that the volume was far too low for her chosen programs at the time. They had engaged in arguments, which tended to resolve when he left, seeking solitude and silence in his own quarters.

Although, to review the past month or so in subjective data; Caustic was intrigued to find himself less irritated by Lifeline’s choice of audible and visual entertainment than previously.

However, the woman’s unerringly pleasant but smug grin as she would turn and catch Caustic’s fingers tapping the datafile laden table in subconscious adherence to the rhythm of the background music, was still a nuisance. At present, if he attempted to tell her so, Lifeline would laugh or roll her eyes and throw a quick, ‘Whatever yuh say, Doctor…’ in his direction.

Caustic believed that the newfound camaraderie between Lifline and himself was either in relation to a number of recent matches wherein he had had to shield her bodily from a hail of incoming fire while she revived a teammate; or pertaining to his begrudging assistance in formulating an altered version of stim for Octane, with lower health impacts. While it seemed counterintuitive to his stated goal of wiping out humanity; the challenge of forcing a volatile substance into a different composition to improve health on use rather than detract from it, had been exhilarating. While the current formula, Stim 2.3, was by no means perfect, it could always be improved in future testing. In fact, Caustic had been surprised to find himself looking forwards to improving upon the newly created formula with Miss Che in future. Her mind was agile, quick and experienced around medical, political and Octane-related matters. Verbal sparring with Miss Che was akin to mainlining caffeine, and possibly her persuasive arguments may have something to do with how thin his facade was feeling at present. How he was starting to regret his actions, when previously they were buried deep, untouchable, as Lifeline skillfully pointed out fallacies in his logic and ideologies.

Of all the Legends, the hunter Bloodhound, he hunter, was a mystery that continued to intrigue and distract from his research. Caustic had honestly been certain that there it would be highly improbable for the pair to have anything in common; given they were from a world that despised the very technology that his homeworld had embraced with open arms.

He had also felt that perhaps the hunter would avoid him, given Gaea’s reputation around such things as diversity in attraction and gender identification; he knew what was said and not all of it undeserved.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was a shared interest in plants that began their interactions; as the hunter had peered from their room at the right moment to catch Caustic returning home with a new specimen of unknown origin. The GAVN 1.2 bot stationed at the nearby Solace City plant nursery had no knowledge of what species it may be of, but the important matter was that the machine had recalled Caustic’s request to contact him if anything ‘interesting’ came through. Bloodhound had stopped him to ask how a Crentular Vynth bush had made its way to this planet; and Caustic had been so distracted by the conversation that followed that he did not realise they had moved to Bloodhound’s room until his second cup of herbal tea.

That had been the oddly auspicious beginning of… whatever this was. Whether they were now coworkers, or something slightly below comrades in arms, their companionship had been cemented nearly a full three months later on Olympus, when a bullet shattered Caustic’s mask mid-match.

Things had not been going optimally at the time. Their third squadmate was dead; some nameless human who had dreamt of glory and fame, and was now likely in a respawn pod beyond the arena commiserating their loss with the other failures.

Bloodhound was in the process of scouting for activity within and without the building they were currently camping inside; at the far end, if the faintest of footsteps could be believed. Skirting carefully about Caustic’s traps despite the pre-match inoculation provided that assured temporary immunity for the other two.

He had been calculating the potential ring trajectory of the next round, and automatically reloading the mozambique in his hands mechanically, when a careless step had placed him directly before one of the many damnable slatted windows of the building. The first he became aware was a crack, and a split-second realisation that made him jerk back just in time for the kraber shot to hurl his mask clean off and away.

Ducking automatically, not risking a second looking for the person who was definitely chambering a new round in anticipation of taking him out, Caustic had snatched the shattered mask up and slid through the rails to the floor below. Landing with a jarring impact that raised dust, forced air from his lungs, and inspired a violent coughing fit. Panic began to stir, as the reality of his vulnerability became apparent.

To counter this, Caustic set off a nearby gastrap deliberately, obscuring himself amidst the swirling green smog; allowing a moment to focus purely on the issue at hand, and forestall the intense anxiety that the cameras could be observing his features or condition too closely. He could already see the mask was beyond repair, the hoses hissing upon his shoulders as his filtered supply fed into nothing; despair was starting to claw at his chest, tightening it until it burned...

And then Bloodhound was there. Without a word, those impassive goggles took in the scene in its entirety as they crouched down by his side; pulling a small spare mask from one of the many pouches on their belt, without the slightest hesitation, and pressing it to Caustic’s face. “Here, breathe easy felagi fighter.” they said, nothing more, nothing less.

The filtration hoses hissed a moment more before the hunter had them shut off at the valve, so as not to waste more of the carefully balanced components. The mask adhering quickly and filtering the more violent components out of the air automatically; as Bloodhound needed, given their own damaged airways. Caustic may not believe in their All-Father, but he could almost admit to himself that it was very fortuitous they had been there that day.

When the smog cleared, vanishing as it dispersed to a minimal level, the crisis was over and his panic subsumed. Bloodhound clapped a hand to his shoulder and rose, making a statement of thanks in relation to receiving ammunition. A weak cover, but one they hoped viewers would be satisfied with; feel no great desire to dig for more information on this brief ‘green-out’.

“Come, there are three squads remaining, we have foes to slatra.” they offer, and he rises quickly to follow. Win or Lose, Caustic had felt confusingly like he had already received some small victory that day; though to put it in words was beyond even his skill.

Unfortunately, the downside of increased awareness of other human beings was that they tended to request opportunities to strengthen the bond. Of all things, the Hunter and the Salvonian now wished Caustic to go camping with them; in Kings Canyon or some equally feral locale, where they may all die of undercooked food or rabid wildlife. As disagreeable as he found the idea, Caustic found himself rapidly running out of excuses as to barriers that would forestall his presence on such an experience. And just the other day, before this intense sensation of dread descended, he found himself considering purchasing a prowler-proof sleeping bag… which had been a definite call for self-reflection at the time.

Indeed, when he thought back over the past few months… Caustic found that he had had at least one small interaction of moderate-to-positive success with all of the other Legends. Even with that know-it-all Crypto. Though Caustic strictly maintained that the whole scenario had been pure happenstance; and not any display of coworkerly or implied sibling affection.

If the young brat had just so happened to be tinkering with his little drone at the kitchen island and required a tool that Caustic, also present and working on his own project, had just so happened to have on him at the time… so be it. Truly, Caustic was not even certain if Park had realised who had supplied the multitool that had readily slipped into his grip on request; although, the fact that it had been returned nonetheless to his quarters, possibly by drone through a window he had forgotten to close overnight, gave a different impression.

Ironically, whenever Caustic finds himself thinking about the other Legends recently, shades of distress, distrust and uncertainty began to fill his limbs with lead and his mind with a million illogical questions. Did Loba’s smile at breakfast mean she was intending to out him to the others? Was it normal for Revenant to ask to view his research on gases with compounds that could corrode organic metals? Was the laughter between Wattson and Wraith about him? What made Bangalore watch him instead of the screen during the movie night two weeks before? Why did so many whispers stop when he moved closer? When was the last time Gibraltar had used the phrase ‘hey buddy, you doin’ okay?’ with any other Legend?

Who. When. Why. How. What. An endless merry-go-round in a carnival of horrors, all of his own devising… and there was no way to signal to the ride operator that he wished to exit. What was wrong with him?

Or, was there something wrong with him, at all?

Perhaps this was normal, for someone whose life was close to its ending. Didn’t people feel distress over regrets and mistakes in their life?

Desperate for a concrete reason, Caustic ran diagnostics on his blood and biometrics at least twice a day, and yet felt disappointed to find no significant progression in the disease. For if not the disease… then what was this?

Days wore on as he remained confined to his quarters for all but the most necessary outings. He did not see or hear how the household was becoming more and more colourful and the Legends pre-celebrating. Glancing out his window at the billboards in the city beyond, his lip curled derisively; ah, the corporations became more sycophantic as time wore on, disgusting. But all he could focus on was the manner in which this swelling sensation of anxiety was drowning him; Caustic was awash in a sea of tumultuous negative emotions with no sign of rescue. Quietly hoping that none would come.

It felt, constantly, as if he had an anchor bound to his ankles; the chain a cruel twisting thing, cold and rattling in the currents, always just long enough so he could bob above the despair for short periods of time before another wave crashed down. Caustic was beginning to wonder if it was worth trying not to drown at all...

Unbeknownst to the scientist, his absence was noted, and some were more concerned than others. The sudden withdrawal from household life drew attention from concerned parties with irritating accuracy; and he found himself subject to gentle half-questions that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, his hands balling into fists to hide their shaking, and his mind racing to decode the hidden trap within the questions. Overwhelmed, Caustic responded by pulling back from the internal life of the Legends with greater fervour, trying to handle this situation himself; hating that it had come to such a ludicrous turn of events as this.

It was only when he was in the depths of despair and fighting to hide this from himself, that Caustic himself began to hear the rumours swirling about. Abhorrent, pervasive, and inaccurate… but easily believable if you lacked critical thinking skills. They made him feel more vile and misrepresented than the original advertisement campaigns for his arrival as a legend ever had. All that fabricated nonsense about being a verified and diagnosed sociopath; when it was only partially true, mixed with showman’s flare for the sake of selling him as the villain to the public. But these rumours… gossip rag conjecture, utter debasement and filth. Easy to believe… and in the mouths, hearts and minds of the people he had somewhat began to trust.

~)0(~

“It ain’t his fault, he’s from Gaea, yuh know?” whispers one legend to another, in a tone so casual that the sentence was doubly alarming to have come from seemingly out of nowhere. Caustic nearly drops the mug he is holding, mind shocked into momentary pause, at the statement. At the implication behind it.

The other sighs, “I know they’re, uh, different about things… but I thought that being in Solace City this whole time might have…” There’s a pause. “Well, you know, shown him a different reality… he’s already made progress in being an okay human, or something like it. Thought things were going okay, caught him smiling at one of Rampart’s jokes the other day… ”

“Yuh best keep it quiet though, don’t want the media gettin’ wind of this or it’ll be a problem.” hisses the first, acutely aware of how the media at large takes any vague hint of something, right or wrong, and runs with it. For the last six months magazines had been declaring that she was ‘going to propose to Wraith anyday now’ because they’d been snapped shared a sandwich at a Legend event a while back. The online forums were a constant minefield, even if some of the fanart was well-done.

“Oh yeah, I’m not going to put anyone through that deliberately, my dearest fiance-to-be…” the other laughed back. “You think surprise-portalling him into the middle of the parade would help? Or do Gaeans drop dead if confronted with new ideas without any warning?”

Just as despair was filling his heart like a lead weight, the rumours like tiny knives in his heart, filleting the memories he held about someone now lost… another combatant enters the ring. So to speak.

“Enough!” snaps a third, highly unexpected but nonetheless welcome, voice. The word hissing between what can only be clenched teeth, in a normally serene face.

Caustic finds himself holding his breath as he presses close to the kitchen wall nearest the common room entrance; desperate to hear more, despite his stomach churning, wanting him to flee this whole situation. It boggled the mind, after all he had done… Miss Pacquette, coming to his defence? How could she find it in herself to speak on the behalf of such as him?

“Listen to me, and hear me when I say that not all of Gaea’s citizens think in such a backwards manner… you cannot assume because people are poor, from a small place on their world, or work on farms that they all perceive things so narrow-mindedly. There is acceptance on Gaea, in much the same way that there are pockets of intolerant people on Psamanthe and Salvo who believe that robots are not sentient, or people of different races cannot be allowed to love one another. There are good people there too...” Wattson says, voice rising with the internal fervour of righteous anger. She was so very like her father, unable to allow someone she cared about to go undefended when people brought slander to their doorsteps. If someone raised a knife to his back, she would put up a fence to bar their way, and then continue to tell him off for his inappropriate actions from the months before.

In the brief silence following her statement, shuffling is heard, and it is clear something is happening though he dare not attempt to see in. He would be sighted for certain.

In a calmer tone, almost too soft, Wattson continues. “I once knew a man from Gaea when I was very small. He was… very important to my Papa, and to me. They worked together for many years, and I believe that they loved each other just as deeply as Papa and Mama did. He was always very kind to me, like a father you could say, even on his darkest days he was always ready to make me feel happy.” She took in a shaky breath. “Many of my youngest memories involve him, from my first baking soda volcano, to my recovery from the ‘ghost’ incident; not to mention the first attempt to create my sparks… and then the hour or so we spent resetting the powergrid for the whole map due to the short we made. He was a good man, if very obsessed with his work; as Papa was. Driven, you could say.” She sighed sadly, in a way that made even Caustic’s shaking arms want to wrap around the younger woman in comfort. “But he was forced to go home many years ago because he was having a disagreement with the company overseers about a new project they assigned to his research team. He was so angry when he left, and I wish I could have had a happier memory to keep of him. I only discovered later why he was so… you see, Papa mentioned that his team was assigned the goal of manufacturing a way of purging unwanted biological urges through aerosolised disbursement in the general population, and, well… he did not agree.”

There’s a sharp inhalation of breath from a few too many voices for simply two other people to be present in the common room. Given what the ruling bodies of Gaea were known to stand against, it did not take much guesswork around the applications of such a project.

Caustic had always liked to break accepted ethical conduct on the odd occasion to get breakthroughs that pushed science to the edge of a new frontier, but even he had been abhorred by the very concept. Caustic closed his eyes, recalling the very arguments he had had with his then-superiors about the situation; and how he had even held out the ‘impeding human rights’ card as a final way to thwart the project. The cold smirk on thin lipped faces as he was informed that none who would be affected could be counted as a true human until they were cured of their odd notions… it was a miracle he had restrained from using his fists there and then.

His ‘compliance’ was bought with a simple reminder of how very important the company’s healthcare policy was to Caustic’s mother, at the time, and how it would be a shame to have it terminated alongside his employment. Feigning defeat, and hating himself, he had made a show of deferring to their wishes. Those pompous, self-inflated fools had taken him at his word. That was their first mistake.

Caustic jerks slightly, as if he has fallen out of his own memories and back to the present, bodily. Finding Miss Pacquette still speaking, her voice growing ragged with emotion.

“He… he died shortly after leaving us. I was devastated that he was gone, but even more so for the way it had happened. I could not imagine the fear and sadness he must have felt as the lab burned around him, with his entire research team. All they ever found was a charred corpse and two fingers that had enough DNA remaining to confirm his identity.” A soft sob shocked out, before she masterfully pushed it back. “U-Unfortunately for the company it seemed that all of his research and specimens on the topic burned with him; and some kind of alternate chemical residue coating the lab after the fire made the building unusable. Sometimes… I wonder if it was deliberate, for him to have taken it all with him. To be honest it would not surprise me in the least, he was as stubborn as Papa…” Natalie trailed off, clearly upset by the recollections. “Oh mon dieu, I do not mean to be so silly… I just miss him and Papa so much! And now you are all being so awful about the only person who… who reminds me of them, and I know he is difficult but there is good there, somewhere.”

Caustic’s teeth grind until it is agony. He longs to comfort her, even now as a full fledged adult and not the doe-eyed little girl who always wanted his attention... but how would that look to their comrades? Would she accept it after what he had tried to do? The anxiety wrings his stomach out like a wet rag, and locks both legs firmly in place. The scientist is disgusted with his weakness, debasing himself internally even as he countered with the simple truth of not being able to fight your own brain when it had decided on a Freeze response to distress.

He can clearly hear Lifeline and Wraith providing quiet soothing statements to Miss Pacquette, and it lessens his own distress over hers. Until he hears the one voice he would prefer never have been party to the conversation, speak up. “What was his name?” A general query, curiosity and a hint of foreboding there, as if the puzzle pieces were sliding together in the younger man’s mind.

Caustic’s heart freezes in his chest. Of all the Legends, why must Park be the one to overhear this tale? He who knows too much already...

There’s a soft muffled sniffle, muted most likely by Wraith’s shoulder, before Wattson replies; utterly unaware of how she was putting the final nail in his aliases’ coffin. “Oh, did I not say? His name was Alex… or I suppose Alexander. Dr Alexander Nox…”

The sound of Crypto’s drone clattering to the floor almost swallows the high pitched shattering of the ceramic mug meeting the kitchen floor. Almost, being the operative word.

By the time anyone has a chance to check the kitchen, Caustic has long since made a tactical retreat to his room. The racing thoughts feel like they are wrapped about his throat, constricting his chest until he can barely breathe. Hoping that none saw his frantic flight back to the safety of familiar walls.

~)0(~

#apex legends #caustic #please tell me if its too ooc #i have been agonising over chapter 2 #it was meant to be a short little fic and now chapter 2 feels very ooc #31 days of apex

[highladyluck]

Here, have 4.5 pages of rambly Tuon meta. I wrote this to try to get a handle on Tuon’s character, and to develop the theoretical framework for a redemption arc for her. I’m hoping posting this doesn’t cut my motivation to actually write it...

Who is Tuon? Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag, High Lady, Daughter of the Nine Moons; now the Empress of Seanchan (at least on the westlands side), Fortuona Athaem Kore Paendrag. To borrow some phrasing and framing from @websandwhiskers: She’s the pinnacle of Seanchan culture and an extremely functional tool of the state; responsible (both personally and institutionally) for psychologically and physically torturing people and enslaving them; she also has some compelling moral and personal qualities that she and the state have not yet managed to quash, which kind of makes it all worse, ethically speaking. She’s a villain whom the original narrative neither sufficiently condemns nor sufficiently redeems, married to one of the Big Damn Heroes in a match that’s both very odd couple and very complementary.

She respects people who stand up to her, as long as they aren't 'disrespectful' in the process- and the 'disrespect' is very situational, she'll accept things in private or in non-court settings that she can't let slide in court without losing face and therefore power. She cares very much about the legitimacy of authority, because it correlates positively with stability and is ingrained in her self-image, but she has an autocrat’s idea of what is legitimate. She assumes you know your own self-worth in relation to hers and are prepared to both display it and back it up. She has also internalized that other people's challenges of her are opportunities for her to prove her strength and fitness to rule, and she probably low-key seeks to provoke reactions now as validation/training, for herself and others.

She has rigid moral standards within the context she was raised in, and punishes herself first for perceived failure because if she does it first, perhaps she can avoid someone else doing it, with deadlier results. She has never been allowed to be less than perfect by her culture's standards- she can be (and has been) odd, but she cannot be flawed- and possibly expends all of her natural empathy on others instead of herself, because she can't afford that kind of indulgence herself, but she knows she owes it to lesser beings?

And as @websandwhiskers pointed out, she does have a lot of empathy within allowable contexts, and I think she is willing to push the envelope compared to her peers as long as she/the empire isn't directly threatened. That's what the kiss after Mat let the poisonous snake go was about. The snake was poisonous but not attacking, and not likely to attack unless someone escalated the situation, and Mat deescalated it. No harm, no foul. Mat responded to a fraught situation both logically and mercifully, in the way she imagined she would have if she had been in his shoes and known he same facts he did, and she rewarded him.

She’s competent and charismatic; I hesitate to say that she inspires loyalty in underlings because honestly with the damane it’s brainwashing (eurgh). But Selucia and Karede are both really into her, personally, even when there are societal inducements not to play favorites. Mat is loyal to her, though honestly Mat is loyal to like... anyone he’s responsible for, so maybe it’s more relevant to say that Mat genuinely likes her; at least, he likes the person he thinks he can coax out of her, and in terms of the persona she has more typically, I think he responds well to her competency and self-possession. The ability to project those things is probably a big part of what goes into charisma.

She thinks that the people who oppose her just don't have all the facts. She doesn't like to admit she's changed her mind; it looks like weakness; she's fine identifying it in others but not herself. Ideally she would pretend things have always been the way she now knows they are, and if she can't, she goes for the "Yes [fact], but [here's what I've decided is now germane to the argument at hand]." redefinition of the problem. She always thinks she’s right, though she does tend to leave some space between when she’s decided something and when she promulgates the decision, to allow for opposing arguments.

I think the original relationship Tuon has with omens is that she uses them to look for external justification from the universe for decisions she's already made. (I mostly like Sanderson's Tuon POVs, but I also I think Sanderson sometimes used omens as a 'make Tuon do OOC things for the plot' card.) Tuon's running dialogue with omens also shows that she's always observing the world and interpreting her effect on it and its effect on her. She loses her composure with omens when they are more concrete and less subject to her control (via interpretation), as with Lidya's fortune.

It makes sense that she's super controlling. It was how she was raised, and aside from having loyal/brainwashed companions (who are, themselves, a form of distributed control), being controlling is obviously the only thing that makes her feel safe. It's still interesting how it extends into a dialogue with the Pattern itself. Like Mat, she wants to survive and she wants to go her own way, and also like Mat she's caught up in the Pattern a little more tightly than others. I think she and Mat have both subconsciously decided that the only way to deal with what the universe wants you to do, when the universe is that powerful, is to say "Fine, I didn't really want to do that other thing anyway, let's learn how this path works and play to win."

She knows she makes bad decisions when angry, and I think in general she distrusts strong emotions, or at least tries to hold them at arms' length so they don't form part of her judgment. She's very very good at compartmentalizing, but as a result sometimes emotional stuff will come up and blindside her a little because she doesn't prioritize it or see it as a natural part of her decision-making. I think her emotions do influence her, usually subconsciously, but she's obviously a Thinking type. (Mat is also a compartmentalizer, but more somatic/emotionally focused; he's got his feelings directly wired into his body and together they make decisions that his brain then evaluates a second later, with running commentary that he never expresses to anyone else. They are both comedically un-self-aware, although Tuon is even less self-aware than Mat is, since at least on some level Mat knows he's been repeatedly traumatized even if he tries to pretend he isn't, while Tuon still thinks that her childhood was completely fine.)

Within the original narrative, I think her POVs are always a bit mysterious and her actions are always a little surprising. What’s impressive about that is that this is basically *always* true no matter what setting she’s in and what she’s doing. When you’re in her head you see her thought process ticking away, but RJ and Sanderson both have her constantly withholding important contextual details in her POVs, like Lidya’s prophecy (the hints are there and come out in bits and pieces, but she doesn’t reveal everything and slot it into context until 2 books later). Like with reading Mat, you’re aware that she obviously has reasons for what she’s doing and you even see her decision-making process, but because you’re missing the details, she remains opaque even though you’re in her head. (Mat’s decision-making process is more clear to the reader, but somewhat opaque to himself and definitely opaque to those around him.)

Meanwhile the things Tuon does share via narration or via action are always kind of buck-wild for the reader because her entire deal is such a culture shock. She’s obviously surprising Mat & co, but what’s weird is that she also seems to be constantly surprising her fellow Seanchan. Her scenes with her peers are usually punctuated with shocked murmuring in the background. They have trouble anticipating her, both because she keeps her cards close to her chest, and I also think because she’s a slightly different person from the one who lived her entire life in a cloistered murdersphere in Seanchan, and if she wasn’t a different person after leaving home, she’s definitely one after her kidnapping. But I think she is a fundamentally different person after leaving home, because of the structural parallels she has with Mat.

In Mat’s first POV chapter, he wakes up in Tar Valon with partial amnesia and a much stronger sense of self-preservation than he had before. As everybodyhatesrand points out (crediting but not tagging them since I feel like they wouldn’t appreciate being tagged in Tuon apologia), we have never been in pre-dagger!Mat’s head. We have never been in dagger!Mat’s head. Everyone in the books, throughout the books, is like “At least Mat’s still the same!” and yeah, he does do and say more or less the same things before and after the dagger. But we had to take it on faith that his personality is more or less intact pre- and post-dagger because we, the readers, only know post-dagger!Mat’s inner monologues. The Mat we inhabit in book 3? He’s been broken. The continuity between his old life and his new life has been disrupted (and will continue to be disrupted, including with an actual literal timeline reboot!) He immediately starts off to fix himself, others, and then eventually the world, so it’s motivating, but the hits really just keep coming...

Like Mat, Tuon’s first POV only appears after she’s left the traumatic environment that shaped her. We don’t know what travelling across the sea did to her sense of self (and we can’t really know since we don’t have that in-Seanchan-baseline), though we do know she’s changed after travelling with Mat (aside from catching feelings, I think she learned that the Seanchan are not always in possession of all the facts), and we know what becoming Empress did to her (she doubled down on duty and lost a lot of personal flexibility). I think there are major structural parallels between Mat and Tuon’s POVs because they’re both broken people who try their very best to act as if they are not broken. In Tuon’s case I think she just doesn’t know how broken she is. In Mat’s case, he knows, but he’s doing a weird balancing act of integrating lessons learned (healing!) while also, like, frantically trying to ignore or drown out the emotional cost of trauma (not healing!)

By the end of the series I think Tuon knows, but is not letting herself actually think, that being made damane is a) a real possibility for her, specifically, and b) that it is not, in fact, something she would willingly choose for herself even to serve the empire. I think this is different from the more intellectual disgust of the idea of herself channeling; that's abstract, and she imagines there's an actual choice for the person with the spark between channeling and not channeling, or possibly that there's an actual choice between learning to channel vs not learning to channel if you have the spark inborn. (We know that the actual choice if you have the spark is 'learn to channel properly or die'.) Tuon's out there like "If I were a marath'damane I would simply choose not to channel. RIP to marath'damane but I'm different".

She's never been a marath'damane in the sense of someone who started channeling involuntarily, and isn't interested in imagining herself as one, at least not when confronted by someone who is succeeding in making her angry. So even if you made her choose, as a theoretical marath'damane, between dying and learning to channel properly, I think she'd consider 'learning to channel properly' as 'becoming a murderer' and therefore the choice would be between dying and becoming a murderer. There's a clear argument to be made in that idiom that the marath'damane is 'becoming a murderer' in self-defense, which would have a different moral tenor (manslaughter vs murder). But Tuon strikes me as the type to say in an argument (and probably believe) that "The end result is the same & I would die before compromising my principles.”

I think in the confrontation with Egwene she probably internally justified not putting the collar on because there was a Seanchan audience and because the taunt came from an escaped damane, even though the actual reason was fear that it would work. She’s letting the circumstances invalidate the argument so she doesn’t have to think about it. I think if she were to let herself think about the authentic emotional response- and she probably has, I feel like she does a postmortem on all of her public discomposure- she would consciously know that her instinct was that it would work on her, and furthermore she would know that she does not want to be damane, even if the Empire would require her to be.

If she followed out the chain of reasoning, she’d know that if she were a damane, if she were actually leashed, she would be forced to channel. She’d know because she’s taken great pleasure in training and breaking damane, and she knows how to get damane to channel and how to break them. Therefore, if she were damane, she would know that she would need to be broken, and she knows how she would go about breaking herself. She probably thinks that her last act of free will would be to suicide if she possibly could. But I think that what she’s AFRAID OF is that she would actually convince herself that being the very best damane is all she wants out of life. And that's the scary, universe-ending thought she's avoiding the consequences of, because a) it’s about breaking herself (as Cadsuane points out, no one can easily think about breaking themselves) and b) the fact that she would need to be broken and that she doesn’t like the idea is a sign that she’s not the perfect avatar of the Empire that she thinks she should be.

I think becoming damane has been added- in the bare abstract- to her mental list of the price of failure. It's a very fundamental loss of control and identity, where all she has is resignation and brainwashing that- best case scenario- she does to herself. She's scared of it in a way she was not before, now that it's been made personal. Like Mat, she's going to shove that down deep and ignore the bad scary implications as long as she can, up until the point that they actually disable her or otherwise bleed out into her intellectual or physical world in ways that aren't as ignorable.

But while Tuon thinks she would die before compromising her principles, and even more secretly is extremely afraid that she *wouldn't*, I also think that like Mat, if it came down to it she would transform herself radically to survive *as herself*.

She’d realize that she has other principles, more human ones, underlying her socially acceptable and externally imposed principles of enforcing hierarchy and maintaining personal integrity. (Parallels to dagger!Mat being exorcised?) I think her basic motivations are that she should survive, that she should retain as much control/power over her own fate as possible, and that she should make decisions from a place of empathy rather than anger or fear. I think she would also realize that she does in fact value some principles over others. She would redefine the meaning of ‘personal integrity’ to separate it from what the state wants.

If she knew what was really driving her socially acceptable principles, and that there was a difference between what she really, fundamentally wanted & what she had been told to want, with encouragement she could prioritize the organic, primal ones and apply those to the external world. If she is a person, then everyone else is a person, and she should want for them what she wants for herself. I think she might get to the point of realizing there is an alternative path (of what looks like selfishness) but I don't think she's going to let herself be selfish (in this healing, positive way) without external prompting/confirmation, so this is probably where friends, positive role models, and finally omens come in.

#tuon paendrag #problematic fave tuon #meta #wheel of time #If I were a marath'damane I would simply choose not to channel. RIP to marath'damane but I'm different.

[jennycalendar]

not posting this to ao3 bc the convoluted context only exists on tumblr, but here’s a mini thing i wrote today from that au where oz is dating giles and jenny’s daughter. also giles and jenny were in a band together pre-canon for a little while and have a very convoluted love story that i swear will eventually be a fic. fun times.

other things pre-fic that are fun:

ripper and jenny spent like a decade in la co-running a music store together while also raising their kids. jenny handled the actual business, ripper taught guitar classes on the side. janna is very musically gifted but teddy can’t carry a tune to save her life.

theoretically this is a version of canon where janna and buffy are the same age, and someday i will also write the fic where janna appoints herself buffy’s watcher, kicks wesley in the knees, and screams at every member of the council that comes near buffy. she’s heard enough horror stories from her dad.

“Are you nervous?”

The question took Oz by surprise. “Should I be?”

Janna didn’t answer. When he turned to look at her, he saw that she was looking out the window at what he assumed was their final destination: a relatively ordinary-looking house with the beginnings of a vegetable garden on the front lawn. “The last time I brought a guy home to meet my parents, he was super nervous,” she said. “Like, all spacey and weird. My dad was extra nice to him to compensate, but my mom kinda antagonized him a little ‘cause she thought it was funny. She probably won’t do that to you, though. I bet she’ll like you. I mean, she likes pretty much all my friends that I actually care about, and last time I brought a guy home I didn’t actually like him. Mostly it was just to show up Teddy ‘cause she’s always giving me grief about—”

Abruptly, Oz understood. Without a word, he gently tugged Janna’s clenched fists into his own hands, untangling the tightly coiled fingers to lace them with his own.

Janna exhaled. Shakily, she said, “I just really want them to like you.”

“I know,” said Oz.

“I mean really. Usually I don’t care a whole bunch, but you’re different.”

“I know,” said Oz.

“And sometimes my mom can be a little mean. Not like mean-mean, she’s just like that, it’s her way of being nice—”

Oz tugged on Janna’s hands, pulling her into a careful hug. Janna let out a nervous laugh and pressed a clumsy kiss just under his jaw. “I’m a pretty easy guy to like,” he said. “Unless your parents are the kind that don’t like it when a guy is in a band.”

“That would be totally hypocritical,” said Janna. “They were in a band.”

Processing this, Oz felt a slow smile sneak across his face. “So it’s genetic?”

Janna blinked, then smiled too. “Kinda, yeah! They ran a music store in LA till we moved. My dad’s the one who taught me how to play guitar and sing and stuff. He’s not classically trained or anything, but he takes it super seriously.”

“Your dad sounds pretty cool,” said Oz.

“He is pretty cool,” said Janna, her smile growing.

Gently, Oz tugged on Janna’s hand, then let go to open his door and get out of the car. He crossed around to open the door for her too, extending a hand to help her out. She laughed, letting him pull her out of the car, and tripped very purposefully to fall for a moment against his chest; he nudged the car door shut behind her and tugged her into a hug. “We got this, Jay,” he said, smoothing down her hair.

Though she was still very clearly nervous, Janna nodded, tucking her arm into his as they walked up the driveway. Oz rang the doorbell.

Thudding footsteps came from inside the house. Janna groaned. “Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath.

“Is this the boyfriend?” demanded a voice as the door was wrenched open. Looking down, Oz saw a small girl of about twelve surveying the two of them with interest. “I thought he’d be taller. How come he’s shorter than you? Why—”

“I am gonna punt you into next Tuesday, Teddy,” Janna threatened.

“Oh, this is Theodora?” said Oz with interest. “Pleasure.”

“At least someone has manners,” said Teddy with great dignity, turning on her heel and striding down the hall.

“Aren’t you gonna invite us in?” Janna yelled after her.

“Nope!” Teddy yelled back. “You’re probably vampires!”

“Someday I’m gonna kick her like a soccer ball and no one will ever see her again,” Janna was muttering as she yanked Oz over the threshold, roughly divesting him of his coat to hang it on a nearby coat tree. “I used to play soccer in middle school and I think I still know how to do it. Maybe I can get Buffy to do it. I bet if I kicked her really hard—”

“No kicking your sister,” came a very familiar voice.

If Oz was the kind of person whose jaw dropped, he thought it might have right then. Standing in the kitchen doorway was none other than Jenny Calendar, the original drummer for the Spitfires—the one who had toured with the band for two years before she and the lead guitarist dropped out to raise a kid. Jenny Calendar was looking between the two of them with an intrigued grin. Oz had a record with this lady’s face on it. “Uh,” he said. “What?”

“What?” said Janna, as though this was just a normal meeting between Oz and his girlfriend’s mom. “Anyway, mom, this is Oz. Oz, this is my mom, she—”

“I know who she is,” said Oz.

“Well, duh, I just told you,” said Janna. “Where’s Dad? Is he upstairs dissecting bug things for Buffy again?”

“Yeah, that was one time and I told them both they’re never doing that again. That’s my job in this house.” Jenny ruffled Janna’s hair. “Glad nothing ate you on your way here.”

“If it does, you gotta make a necklace out of my bones or something metal like that,” said Janna very seriously.

“God, you’re just like your dad,” said Jenny.

“Oh, yeah, it’s me she gets it from,” quipped Ripper, rounding the corner with Teddy on his shoulders. “Not like anyone else in this house was violent and terrifying at fifteen.”

“Okay, one, shut up. Two, no one needs to hear any of those stories. Three, shut up.” Jenny punched Ripper’s shoulder, careful to avoid jostling Teddy.

Oz was thankfully a little bit more prepared for Ripper’s entrance. If the Spitfires’ drummer was Janna’s mom, the lead guitarist pretty much had to be her dad. “Uh, hey, Janna,” he said, tugging at his girlfriend’s sleeve, “can we—talk outside for a sec?”

Janna looked a little puzzled, but acquiesced without much argument.

Shutting the door behind them, Oz said, “Your parents are Jenny and Ripper.”

“Huh?” said Janna, then, “Oh,” and then her face split open in a huge smile. “I didn’t know you knew about them! Pretty much nobody does! They left the Spitfires before the band got big, so it’s not like I bring it up a lot—”

“Okay, this makes so much sense,” said Oz.

Janna blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your whole,” Oz waved a hand, “cool thing. It’s not just you, it’s genetic.” He grinned. “I don’t think I stood a chance.”

Janna went very pink, her smile impossibly bright. “You totally have to tell them you like their stuff,” she said. “Dad’s kinda mellow about it, but Mom has these insane stories from the years before she and Dad hooked up and she loves telling people about them.”

“Well, I’d love to hear your mom’s cool band stories,” said Oz, squeezing Janna’s hand. “Probably have a few of our own to share, right?”

“I mean, I’ve told them most of my good ones,” said Janna. “Remember that one time I broke a guitar over Devon’s head?”

“Fondly,” said Oz.

Janna snickered. “Dad’s done worse,” she said. “He was in Wretched for a little while. It was more of a Brit thing so you probably haven’t heard of it, but we have a demo album that they made and it’s soooo bad—”

“Mom wants to know when you’re coming in for dinner!” Teddy yelled from inside the house.

“IN A MINUTE!” Janna yelled back.

“We could go in now,” Oz suggested, “if you—”

Draping her arms around his neck, Janna said, “Give me a minute, Daniel.”

 ~~~

“Oh my god, I love him,” said Jenny delightedly. “Rupert, he knows our stuff! Does anyone ever know our stuff?”

“Janna’s last one didn’t,” said Ripper, attempting to take a forkful of casserole off his wife’s plate. Jenny whacked his fork with her knife. “Though I do think our darling Teddy psychologically broke the poor chap halfway through dessert.”

“If he was weak enough to be broken by a fifth-grader, he deserved to start crying,” said Teddy mildly. “It’s just facts.”

“She gets the mean streak from me,” said Jenny affectionately, looking at Teddy with adoring pride. “Mama’s girl.”

“They both get the mean streak from you,” said Ripper. Jenny started throwing wadded-up paper towels at him. “See?” he said, catching one of them and lobbing it back in his wife’s direction. “This. This is what I mean.”

“Your family is cool,” said Oz. “My mom’s gonna have a lot to measure up to.”

“Oh god I have to meet your mom?” squeaked Janna. “No one’s ever wanted me to meet their mom! Oh my god, you didn’t—why would I—”

“You know she’s never been this nervous about anyone she’s dated?” said Teddy conspiratorially to Oz. “I think she really likes you. Plus she writes your names together all the time on the fogged-up mirror in the bathroom and she made you a mixtape but she’s too scared to give it—”

“I’m gonna throw you out a goddamn window,” Janna hissed in Teddy’s direction. “You better believe I will.”

“Oz, you’re in a band, yeah?” said Ripper, giving Oz a little grin. “Might be nice to play sometime together, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I would,” said Oz, and smiled back.

#fic #janna au #calendiles #ISH but they're married #(they got spontaneously married in vegas so that it would be easier to co-run a business) #anyway: yes. pls enjoy this snip. i am writing again now but it's all stuff that will take a while to see the light of day.

[anryuuepic]

Blyze Prinston Bio

Name: Blyze Prinston

Species: Ghiasuli

Race: Bluescale

Role: A Ghiasuli High Noble and the eldest son of Legacy Prinston. After physical and mental failings lost his father’s favor, the birth of his youngest brother burned it away for good. A forgotten heir who’s been entirely cut out of the political system to be replaced by the better-liked child. 

Affiliation: High Nobles, Amaryllis Family

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Height: 5’9

Appearance: Blyze stands out among his family for his slim build. He’s the shortest male in his family and naturally slender and weak. He has the same dark gray hair as his father, worn short and spiky, and infused with a few gold streaks, as well as warm-toned, royal blue eyes. His features are soft and resemble Zalik’s, but his body bears more than a few ugly scars. 

Personality: As the eldest son (born after the death of his oldest brother), Blyze started out massively valued. But after being pushed aside for his weak body and strong-willed mind, he developed an angry, resentful personality sick of being pushed around. He’s rebellious and smart-mouthed enough to earn his father’s ire, usually winds up as both a physical and psychological punching bag, and is kept out of public view because of how badly he’d reflect on the family. At the same time that Blyze loves his younger siblings and wants to see them safe, he also massively resents the family that rejected him. He’s exhausted to his core from just surviving. 

Positive Traits: Blyze’s good traits start with his protectiveness. He’s a kind person, quite gentle with those he cares about, and capable of high levels of empathy. He’s logical, analytical, intelligent, and perceptive, good at solving problems, and generally level-headed in a crisis. Whether it’s good for him or not, he tends to know exactly what to do to provoke the reactions he wants from people. He’s resilient enough to survive life with his parents and still come out with the mental strength to want to rebel and be himself. 

Negative Traits: However, Blyze is also quite unstable. He’s taken after his mother in that he has a rather weak mental state, and he’s filled with the same hatred and resentment that she is. He lacks self-preservation and some degree of common sense, especially when he’s angry. He holds grudges for longer than he should, inflates people’s negative traits, and fills himself with hatred just to keep himself going. His rebellious tendencies do him more harm than good, but he can’t make himself stop acting out.  

History: As the first son born after the death of Legacy’s original child, Blyze started out valued. He was wanted for what Legacy hoped he would be, but when his body and personality both failed to live up to expectations, he was thrown aside and forgotten. Blyze has spent most of his childhood hovering between ignored and a punching bag. His backtalk, rebellious actions, and instability drive him to provoke the people around him, and as such, get hurt. He’s grown up massively resentful and angry at everyone in his family.   

Relationships: Blyze’s relationships with his family are tense at best— and he doesn’t really have anyone else. His father has kept him from hardly stepping foot outside of their home, so he’s left with his siblings and little else. Blyze knows that his parents hate him, and his feelings toward the rest of his family aren’t much better. He has a strange, love-hate relationship with his siblings where he’s both protective and hateful of what they have. 

Interests: Blyze likes rainy weather, the nicer days with his siblings, and burning things just to watch the flames. He dislikes his parents, beatings, and having to be in the public eye. His hobbies are very limited, but he does enjoy listening to and working with music, as well as some chemistry. 

Political Role: Theoretically, Blyze should have had the most power in his family short of his father. However, when his father officially removed him from the position of heir, Blyze lost all of that. He’s just another child now, as good as any other son, and with his father reducing even that power, he can do very little. However, Blyze doesn’t care much for power or politics.  

Miscellaneous: Ever since he was a small child, Blyze has had a fondness for fire, especially burning things with different colored flames created by himself. He fluctuates through a variety of moods ranging from just plain tired to a level of instability that feels dangerous. With a weak body, his physical abilities are low, and he’s prone to getting sick. While he doesn’t care about political power, his father removing him as the heir still feels like a personal insult. Zalik is his favorite of his siblings, and he might dislike Celosia the most. He bears scars from his father’s semi-frequent beatings.

Connotative Description: The forgotten, disliked eldest son. An unstable young man whose lingering ties to his family don’t make up for the vicious hatred he holds. A person slowly crumbling under his own suffering.  

#Amaryllis Family #Blyze Prinston #Bio

[scripttorture]

In my story, the protagonists are handcuffed almost constantly, and only let out at very irregular intervals. Their hands are not cuffed behind their backs like how cops do it, but instead cuffed in front of them so they can still use their hands and arms to some degree. The handcuffs themselves are high-tech sci-fi handcuffs, so they’re a lot heavier but also don’t chafe/dig into flesh nearly as much. What are some of the effects of being constantly handcuffed like that?

Constant restraint over a long period can result in sudden death, usually by strokes or heart attacks. However this doesn’t always happen and anecdotally death seems more likely with tighter restraints and when more of the body is restrained.

 It also depends how long they’re imprisoned for because the longer someone is kept in restraints the more likely they’ll have a stroke or a heart attack.

 Survivors of restraint torture in China recently have reported being kept in more extreme restraints then you’re describing for months at a time and in a few cases several years. I haven’t read any of those cases recently but from memory the longest period I can remember was two years.

 The restraints used in these cases were mostly a sort of combined hand and leg cuff. Essentially the hands are cuffed in front of the body and the legs are cuffed as well, the chain between the cuffs is long enough for the victim to be able to move, walk but not run etc but it keeps them in a hunched position constantly. Which over the time period these things are used becomes very painful.

 That’s the closest real example I can think of so it’s what I’m drawing from here. :)

 I think your character would also experience some pretty severe muscular pain, limited to their arms in this case. The weight of the cuffs would probably add to this.

 So from personal experience (I once wore a pair of old darbys for a day as a fashion accessory… it was Newcastle) the weight of the cuffs in and of itself can hurt. It can be awkward to stand because wherever you put your hands the weight sits uncomfortably. I found it especially hard on the thumbs because the weight was resting on the top joint where the thumb joins the wrist.

 This is a pain sort of like a bruise.

 Your character would also have muscular pain throughout the arms, due to restricted movement and the awkward way they’d have to move around the cuffs.

 Over months or years restraint use like this causes muscular wastage. I’m not a medic so I’m not sure exactly how or why this happens. But if someone can’t use their limbs normally the muscles tend to die off slowly, causing weakness and in extreme cases mobility problems.

 Most of the survivors of long term restraint torture in the Chinese cases reported mobility problems after release. I’m not sure how long term these problems are.

 I think that nerve damage would be possible with any long term restraint torture involving metal cuffs. Constant weight and pressure across a relatively small area of the wrist can cause that sort of damage. And that results in a permanent loss of mobility; usually a loss of fine motor control (ie struggling to do up buttons, write with a pen etc while still being able to move the arms and make weaker more clumsy movements with the hands).

 Muscular damage is at least theoretically fixable. Physiotherapy can do a lot to help people with these kinds of injuries recover strength and mobility.

 The weight of the cuffs and the way the character has their hands cuffed makes broken wrists more likely. If the character trips and sticks out their hands to catch themselves the cuffs and positioning of their hands- Well it makes breaks more likely.

 Restricting mobility shouldn’t hinder the character’s ability to take care of themselves too much in this case. So I don’t think that this would lead to them say, eating less or being unable to clean themselves.

 The pain would effect their sleep. Which can have long term effects on more or less every aspect of their health.

 Beyond that I think it’s just the usual long term psychological effects of torture. Anecdotally chronic pain seems to be a little bit more common in this kind of case.

 I think that’s it, I hope it helps. :)

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Disclaimer

#writing advice #tw torture #clean torture #restraint torture #handcuffs #sci fi ask #nerve damage #mobility problems

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hello! I've read a book by Dr. Benjamin Hardy Personality Isn’t Permanent". He outright tells: The first myth of personality is that there are personality “types.” There is no such thing as a personality type. Personality types are social or mental constructions, not actual realities. The notion is a surface-level, discriminative, dehumanizing, and horribly inaccurate way of looking at the complexity of what is a human being.1/

2/ “Personality” is far more nuanced and complex than an overly simplified generalization or category. It’s not an isolated trait uninfluenced by context, culture, behavior, and a thousand other factors. Of this, Dr. Katherine Rogers, a personality psychologist, said, “We know that personality doesn’t work in types. . . . I wouldn’t trust the Myers and Briggs to tell me any more about my personality than I would trust my horoscope.”

3/ For example, researchers have found strong correspondences between the demands of a social role and one’s personality profile. If a particular role requires that the person be conscientious or extroverted, then she’d exhibit a much higher degree of conscientiousness or extroversion. Yet once she leaves that role and takes on another requiring less extroversion, she will manifest lower levels of these “traits.” What do you think?

-----------------------------

Well, I mean, I have run an MBTI blog for about 5 years now, and I’ve said some of these things in the past myself, so I think you can make a few inferences. However, there’s some things to address in this that I think are very common mindsets with regard to MBTI that I get in a lot of questions I receive, but with which I strongly disagree, and this is a good opportunity to cover it.

So, for the first statement: personality types are social or mental constructions: I 100% agree with this. I don’t think we will find a reliable neurological basis. I do think MBTI is a pseudoscience. I don’t care if people think MBTI is Business Astrology, in the same way that I don’t mind if people do astrology! I don’t particularly believe in astrology myself but for the most part it’s harmless fun! I don’t use MBTI because I believe it’s a fundamental truth - I use it because it matches with my overall observations, and if someone else finds it doesn’t match their overall observations and they hate it then that’s a totally valid opinion.

 Anyway, yeah, personality types are social and mental constructions, and that’s why when people are like “what do you think about INFPs” I’m like “which one because there are literally hundreds of millions of them and I know a few of them”. A construction isn’t a bad thing - it’s a way to conceptualize a much more complex idea. It becomes a problem when you treat it like an absolute, or as the only factor in making your decisions rather than one of many.

Discriminative and dehumanizing: It can be if you’re a dickhead, but it doesn’t have to be. When people are like “I am an INFJ. I feel all. No one understands me or seems to care. Everyone else is shallow” then yeah, that’s obnoxious, but if you’re just using it to say “some people tend to strongly favor an approach rooted in concrete/sensory, detailed, experiential data and other people tend to be more abstract, thematic, and big picture, and there are strengths and weakness of both” then neither of those are discriminative or dehumanizing. I should note: I think using MBTI in hiring is a bad idea and so does the MBTI institute. I also think that saying “oh they’re an ESTP, they wouldn’t understand” or “this couple is incompatible” is a terrible idea. Always communicate with people and observe them first. MBTI is one tool of many in understanding people and should not be the end-all and be-all.

Personality is more complex than a category: yes. Obviously. Any grown adult who thinks otherwise is, and I do fully mean this, fucking stupid. All people are complex individuals, all personalities are a mosaic of countless experiences, influences, and genetic factors, and no one can be reduced to nothing but a category. However, the concept of archetypes or categories is ancient! A person with a child is endlessly more than a parent, but the category “parent” still fits them. The phrase “It’s not an isolated trait uninfluenced by context, culture, behavior, and a thousand other factors” is essentially what I say all the time, because people will give me a single tiny isolated anecdote and ask for a typing and I’m like “this means different things in different cultures or for people of different ages or in different circumstances”.

And as for people changing under different circumstances: also yes! If you didn’t do this you’d be weird! People are like “when I’m around my friends I make jokes but when I’m at work I do work” it’s like yeah no fucking shit! In the same way that you might prank your siblings but not the CEO of your company, or you kiss your partner but not your cashier at the grocery store, you act differently in different situations because our behavior is influenced by the situation! How is this news? The idea isn’t that people don’t behave differently, it’s that we have certain natural set points and preferences. Sometimes I have to deal with theoretical things. I don’t like it, and it’s harder for me, and I have made choices in my life such that it’s not my primary responsibility to do so, but I am capable of doing so. A healthy person who has to act outgoing can do so, because that’s a skill, not a fundamental unchanging ability. The difference between an introvert and an extrovert isn’t that the introvert can’t take on a social role. It’s whether they want to keep doing it when they don’t have to, and to what extent. Little if anything in human personality is a nice black and white split. Categories are a way of dividing the spectrum when that is useful, not a reason to disregard individuality or to assume that a person will alway behave in one specific way.

So: I haven’t read this book, but my usage of MBTI has never been because I think it’s deeply valid and central to psychology. It’s because this categorization is a useful tool among many, many others. If others don’t find it useful, or even harmful, they are totally justified in rejecting it and not using it.

#here's the thing: on the one hand i'm full of opinions and love saying them at people #on the other i don't want anyone to like. make life decisions based on my personal mbti opinions #my political opinions sure my mbti and media opinions who cares live your life #mbti #Anonymous