#exercise left to the reader

[lockedtombbrainworms]

I think the funniest transgender headcanon for TLT is pre-lyctorhood Pyrrha Dve. She put so much goddamn effort into transitioning and then one day she woke up in Gideon the First's body like "aw dude what the FUCK? I have to do all that shit AGAIN??"

[peachdoxie]

Wait, shit, fuck, I just realized something.

Shallan's letter to Jasnah in The Way of Kings:

Veil's statement to Shallan during the climax of her arc in Rhythm of War:

It's the same argument.

[ursiday]

[centrally-unplanned]

The difference between "low" fertility and low fertility; exponents are a harsh mistress. The recent transition from ~2.0 rates to the above is huge in practice.

[edupunkn00b]

This May Sting a Bit

Late at night, a shaky portal to the Imagination opens in the middle of the living room. Logan did not expect who would come out of it. Or the state he would be in.

Written for @oatmealdaydreams for @tss-camp-and-coffee's Camp Cartoon writing event. Prompt: hurt/comfort Logince WC: 1656 - Rated: G - CW: injuries, mentions of blood and burns

Not quite four in the morning, Logan lingered over his half-drunk coffee. If Patton knew what he was doing, he’d most certainly cluck his tongue, swapping his brew for a mug of hot cocoa. And give him an earful about making better choices.

But Patton wasn’t awake, and neither was anyone else. Well, Remus almost certainly wasn’t sleeping, somewhere in the Mindscape, wreaking his own brand of havoc.

It was equally certain Remus couldn’t care less if Logan were drinking coffee at this hour of the night.

He hummed. This ‘hour of the morning’ was more accurate phrasing given the current time and state of things. Whatever may have been his original intentions for slipping down to the kitchen when Logan an hour ago, there was little chance of him returning to bed now.

Sighing, he drained the last of his cup, determined to make good use of his ill-timed alertness. He’d just finished rinsing the mug when a cacophony of sound erupted in the living room. Dropping the cup—thankfully break-proof—he rushed to investigate.

A three-meter circular portal had opened in the wall next to the television. Unframed and not in its usual place in the hallway between the twin’s rooms, the boundary on this door to the Imagination wavered, crackling as it immediately began to shrink.

The roar of flames and the dragon that breathed them assaulted Logan’s ears. Smoke and soot spilled out, following by a second dragon’s cry. The boundary shrank further, now barely half a meter across. Just before the portal closed, a hand reached out. Bruised and bloodied, smeared with ash, the hand flailed, scrabbling for a handhold that was not there. The hand reached further and the once brilliant white of Roman’s tunic peeked into view.

Without thinking, Logan grabbed his hand and pulled the Prince free from the portal just as the boundary collapsed, sealing the fire and dragons in the Imagination behind it.

“Roman!”

Tunic and pants singed, thin wisps of smoke curled up from his clothes, his hair. Roman’s belt and scabbard were hot to the touch, as were the warped epaulettes on his shoulders. He had more wounds that Logan could count at a glance, with a slowly spreading dark stain creeping out from the gash in his trousers. Liberally dusted with soot, it was difficult to see precisely where the blood was coming from.

“Calculator Watch,” Roman mumbled, head heavy on Logan’s arm. His eyes were only half-open and even that seemed to require extraordinary effort. “Didn’t think anybody’d be up. No-one usually is.”

“You didn’t—you—No-one—You fool!” Logan sputtered, willingly expressing his worry as anger. It was easier. More productive. “How often do you go off gallivanting on your own in the Imagination in the middle of the night?”

Roman’s only answer was a shrug.

“Roman?” Logan shook him, wincing when Roman whimpered briefly before opening his eyes.

The hero’s mask slipped back into place and he gave Logan a crooked smile. “I shall be fine,” he said, voice quavering. “Just need a moment.”

“To hell with that,” Logan spat. It took a bit of work to get his feet under him in a squat but finally he got Roman properly positioned in his arms. He pushed up, lifting him off the floor. Roman’s arm fumbled, weakly looping over his shoulders.

“I can walk, Nerdy Wolverine,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Mm-hm,” Logan grunted. “That’s your brother’s nickname for me.”

As Logan hoped, irritation sparked fresh energy in Roman’s limbs and he held on tighter. “Don’ wanna talk about him,” he growled.

“Fine. We can talk about what in the name of Newton you were doing out there instead,” Logan said. Grip finally stable, he staggered to the bathroom with his Princely burden. “But first we’re getting all this ash off you so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

“’m fine, Logan,” Roman mumbled.

Eyebrow raised, Logan didn’t need to say aloud what they both knew. If he couldn’t be bothered to come up with a new nickname—not to mention fight his way out of Logan’s grip, Roman most certainly was far from fine.

“Let’s get your wounds cleaned and then you can convince me just how ‘fine’ you are.”

~

Too shaky to stand—though he’d never admit it—Roman quickly acquiesced to Logan’s suggestion that a bath might be safer than a shower. Grateful to have avoided that particular argument, Logan held his tongue as he helped him into the tub, sudsing up his hair and back while Roman slowly worked to wash whatever else he could reach. Save for a burn and a nasty trio of gashes on his thighs—the dragon’s claws, Logan guessed—most of the other wounds covering his hands and face and shoulders were smaller. Burns, cuts, and bruises, some of which were already showing signs of his rapid healing.

Whatever else could be said for the brash, pig-headed, egotistical—Logan halted his own internal tirade. Whatever else could be said for him, Roman was, in the end, a more than adept fighter. Logan was certain anyone else—with the possible exception of his even more violent brother—would have fared far, far worse.

After refreshing the bath four separate times when the water grew too murky to do much more than simply spread the blood and soot around, Logan deemed him sufficiently cleansed and helped him out of the tub. Wrapping him first in the largest towel he could find, Logan protected his modesty the best he could while still patting him dry.

The bandages would stick better to dry skin.

Clearly still too weak to use his Creative powers to simply conjure fresh clothes, Roman needed Logan to summon an existing tee-shirt and shorts from upstairs. Finally dressed, Logan settled him into a seat on the edge of the tub and knelt in front of him. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out the gauze and a tube of bactine.

“This may sting a bit,” he warned before dabbing it around the deepest of the wounds. Roman flinched but didn’t make a sound and simply watched Logan work without complaint or comment.

His silence was unnerving.

“So would you like to tell me what you were attempting to accomplish out there?” Logan asked as he wound Roman’s thigh in a triple layer of gauze.

“Does it matter?” he asked quietly. “I failed.”

Logan liked it better when he called him a nerd. Tearing off a bit of tape to seal the edges of the wrapping, Logan hummed. “I would not characterize arriving home alive as a failure.”

Leaning against the wall, Roman’s eyes fell shut. “It’s not a success,” he muttered.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, sharper than he’d intended.

Roman’s eyes flew open, red-rimmed and glossy with tears.

“You, Roman, are worth far more than some Pyrrhic victory over the creatures of your Imagination,” he said firmly. “You are a vital part of Thomas’ psyche. Beyond carrying half his creativity, you bear his sense of strength and self-assurance and his—”

“But I’m not his hero anymore, though, am I?” he said, pulling away. “Heroes don’t hurt people.”

“Roman, you did not intend to harm Thomas with your ruling,” Logan began. “You were merely—”

“I mean De—I mean Janus.” Roman huffed and looked away, nostrils flared. “And you.”

Oh.

Logan stared at him for a long moment before busying himself with the first aid kit. Eyes focused on the blistering burn along Roman’s other thigh, he shook his head. “I am unharmed by anything you have said to me.”

“Do you want Janus to show up?” Roman said. “We both know that’s not true.”

He spread another layer of burn cream to Roman’s leg before answering. “I… suppose it is not entirely accurate that your words have had zero impact me,” he finally said, glancing up from the corner of his eye. “I… I have endeavored not to… fixate on it, though. I have a job to do.”

“Is that all I am to you? Is that all this is?” Roman asked, gesturing around them at the towel drying on the rack, the open first aid kit. “You’re just doing your job to��to—to keep ‘Thomas’ psyche’ well?” he sputtered and pounding his fist on the edge of the tub. “We used to be friends, dammit!”

“I—” An inexplicable lump grew in Logan’s throat and he shook his head. Roman simply watched him wrap fresh gauze over his burn. Arms crossed over his chest and jaw set, Roman wore the posture of impatience, annoyance. Anger.

But his eyes were still wet and he made no move to leave the cramped bathroom.

Logan sighed. “No,” he said at last. “No, Roman, of course that’s not all you are to—When…” He took in the cuts and burns and bruises littering Roman’s body and he shuddered. “When I first saw your hand reaching out from the Imagination, all I could think was, well… I couldn’t think. I just…” He frowned, searching fruitlessly for the right word. “I just… felt.”

Silence dropped between them again but Roman’s crossed arms loosened, slowly sliding back down to rest at his sides.

Clearing his throat, Logan reached for the hand with the most burns. “I do not believe I am ready to discuss my… feelings on the matter,” he said. “Yet,” he added, meeting Roman’s eyes. “But believe me when I tell you it is heroic to attempt this conversation.”

Roman’s face softened into an almost smile.

“And, perhaps—if you wish—I could accompany you to speak with Janus,” Logan offered with a small shrug as he dabbed ointment over Roman’s burnt knuckles. “I could… mediate during the conversation or help you prepare beforehand by serving as a sounding board of sorts or—“

Carefully closing his fingers around Logan’s hand, Roman nodded. “I’d like that,” he said with a tiny smile. “Nerd.”

[masterchef901]

I've had a long and stressful day at work so if any pattern-seeking bloggers out there are somehow interested in a diagram detailing the common qualities among the fixations of this pattern-seeking blogger I have spent the last hour compiling them into a helpful-if-horrifying mangled venn diagram:

If anyone is able to identify an instance of Soft Deranged Failurehood that importantly lacks any Bosshood, please know that Science eagerly awaits your contribution.

CONCLUSIONS:

People who say 4-way Venn diagrams don't work are cowards.

Cats are complete beings. Humanity introduces only impurities.

[laurelnose]

@a-voltage asked: Jedao and/or Cheris? OwO Pink seems like a challenge! [A26]

menace (extroverted) and menace (introverted)

[send me a color palette]

[asmolbirb]

Something something a metaphorical examination of William Laurence that frames his life as a series of awakenings that ultimately culminates in him finally having the space to take a midday nap. Sleep framed as healing; rest framed as safety. &c.

[jy3-1]

"Section 31 is counter to everything the Federation stands for, but without them -"

Let me stop you right there.

Section 31 talks a good game about necessary evils and Hard Men Making Hard Decisions and all that. But is it more than talk?

No. Textually, Section 31 has protected the Federation from negative two existential threats. They are not a necessary evil, they are a downright liability.

[holmsister]

People are always so all-or-nothing about relationships. "They disagreed Once so they hate each other now" "they met under bad circumstances so the relationship is unsalvageable" "they can NEVER be friends they either are lovers or they hate each other" like idk man have you never hung out with a coworker you dont know well during a pause. Have you never been forced by circumstances to befriend someone. Have you never gotten the wrong first impression. Have you never seen a relationship evolve in unexpected ways. As the poet avril lavigne said why did you have to go and make things so complicated. Chill let things hang in the grey it's fine

[epicdogymoment]

[myconetted]

pov: it's 2am and bugso is going APESHIT with a sudden, all-encompassing hunger for tissues.

he will stop at nothing. he will climb on top of you and on your nightstand and knock over anything in his path to reach that treasure chest full of delicious, bleached kleenex. he will put his little paws in the slit to drag out its precious fluffy entrails so he can rip and tear it to shreds, purring like a fucking geiger counter in between the wet smacking sounds as he tries to swallow it despite the way it's plastered to the roof of his mouth.

what do you do.

[rabbiteclair]

love to deploy something to production while telling the head of engineering "listen, when you guys built this thing about a decade ago you didn't make it capture any metrics, so I had to really guess about the throughput, and if I got it wrong then it will explode horribly in the morning, but the good news is that I'm the one on-call so it's ultimately my problem if that happens anyway"

[high-qualitymoron]

i just realized that, according to the memories page, there are 22 princess variants in slay the princess. soooo who’s gonna make a major arcana deck

[centrally-unplanned]

In news to no one, a lot of policy activism is done without considering the politics behind the policy. Take fracking bans in the US. Is there a coalition big enough to support some form of ban on fracking? Yes - or at least there was, it is something that happened after all, it must be viable in some form.

Why is a fracking ban political viable? Because 100% of that coalition is technocratic global warming advocates pushing for carbon taxes and mixed-energy grid transitions, comfortable with limited reductions in living standards in order to achieve the goal? Lol fuck no. That is some of them! Oil as an energy source is a carbon emission, it isn't great, it is a valid reason to pursue it. But they are a minority of the coalition. Some of them are "hard enviro-left" types who also oppose nuclear for example, and either aren't very coherent or are coherent-enough full stack degrowthers, fringe but real. But more, I bet the majority, are environmental NIMBYs - you can ban fracking because they don't like the idea of it happening here. They will support policies to restrict development in new areas of the US that might change the natural environment and cause issues for them close to home.

What they will not support is anything else that makes the policy viable.

They will also block solar installations on NIMBY grounds, or things like transmission lines. They won't actually support carbon taxes or radical changes in how they live to reduce environmental impacts. And most importantly, they will not actually support higher energy prices. LIke at all. The moment you try to "ban" oil or gas imports, this coalition is a ghost. Which means the only impact from a fracking ban is to shift production from the US to other countries - ones that, on average, have a worse track record of environmental enforcement to boot. It doesn't achieve anything at all for the goal of global emissions. The power has to come from somewhere after all! There is no coalition for lowering energy consumption.

This obviously isn't any issue for some random poster online, you aren't dictating policy, support your ideal approach! I support government deployment of exowombs and Kowloon Walled City 2: Immigrant Enclave Boogaloo, trust me I get it lol. But if you are an actual political operative, with influence in policy, understanding this dynamic is literally your job. Spending political capital on fight X, that only does anything if you also win fight Y & Z, and you have no hope of winning those, is deeply counterproductive. There is no substitute for smart strategy. (And it isn't like there aren't better ideas out there - permitting reform for green energy projects is like sitting on the table guys)

[chaos-dumpster-fire]

here. you will all look and ponder.