#how to handle mistakes

[danniswrites]

One Mistake, 25 Hours, and 25 Employees Couldn’t Work!

It was a normal day at Northside Realty in Atlanta, GA. I was a computer operator. Half my day was data entry of insurance claims for our 2000 realtors. The other part was backing up the work of the 25 employees of the Accounts Payable Department. Our Data Processing department consisted of myself and my supervisor, David Van Zandt. We did everything from printing and distributing quarterly reports that were thousands of pages long and paychecks to troubleshooting five floors of terminals. We also transitioned from one computer system to another and tried to decipher the spaghetti COBOL code of a brillant programmer, who, very unfortunately, died of a heart attack. This was before the days of modular programming, and it is a very difficult task to figure out how to modify such programs. We would tackle this task on slow days.

On this day, my boss was in San Francisco for a conference.

My workstation at @northsiderealty in Atlanta, GA

One of my tasks was to run a UNIX shell program that was, I believe, somewhere around 256 characters long. It had to be typed in exactly as written. Maybe it was too long for a macro, so we couldn’t automate this.

My routine was to type it in and I could type 5 characters ahead in the buffer but no more than that. As I typed, I’d pause and check to make sure it was correct. I was very tired that night. Somewhere in the process, I mistyped and didn’t catch the mistake until the unholy thing was executing! In fact, I tried to interrupt it, but it was too late.

I tried to call my boss, then waited for a callback. California is 4 hours ahead of Georgia, so it was already pretty late. My computer operator duties began at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and went until around 9:30 or 10, so it was now around 6 or so.

While I waited, I went over the manuals for our software and looked up anything in the index to help me understand how bad this was. That was maybe an hour before I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere.

So, I tried my boss again, then called tech support.

They escalated me to one of the programmers, if not the programmer who wrote the shell routine. We discussed options. “You could restore from backup and start over,” he suggested.

I tried to call Dave again. It was getting pretty late and I was not allowed to work over 40 hours in a week, so I made a fateful decision.

I restored from backup. During this, I kept trying to call Dave, but thought surely this would fix my problem.

Finally, I had the backup finished and called again. This time I did get Dave. I explained.

“Tell me you didn’t restore from backup.”

I looked into the computer room where the 14-inch reel-to-reel tapes were still. The backup was finished. “Yes, I did.”

There was a pause, and an audible exhale. Oh, boy. I’m in for it now! But, Dave took a few seconds to collect his thoughts. I’m not sure I would have been as patient with my employee as he was. He didn’t get angry or say anything like I expected to hear, like, say, How could you be so stupid? I was sure saying it to myself.

Nope, he just said, “Let me think about this a minute. Maybe there are some things we can try to do together.”

And, that’s what we did. Dave suggested this and that, and I did it. For hours, he would suggest something and I would go do it, and come back to our black wall phone and report the result. At this point, I wasn’t as worried about going over 40 hours. I did take time to call my husband to tell him I would be late getting home, from another line. And, to cry for a minute.

Well, this process went on and one. Morning came, though our windowless space consisted of a temperature-controlled room that held the blue refrigerator-sized CS 200, our old minicomputer system, the backup system that took the 14-inch reel-to-reel tapes and storage cabinets with our old backups and fresh tapes. Then there was the beige cabinet about the size of a chest deep freeze. Today you probably have that much processing power in your cellphone.

All photos copyright Dannis Cole.

I called my pharmacist husband to let him know I was still at work and he’d have to get our 5 year old daughter ready for school.

At 8 am there was a knock, and I opened the door to find an incredulous worker or three. “Oh, my goodness! You’re still here, Dannis? None of our computers will come up.”

I had to explain things, which was extremely uncomfortable. Nobody got mad about it. But, my boss’ boss and his boss were very upset. They came next.

They had me explain in detail what I did, what I was doing to solve this problem, and talked to Dave on the phone. Of course, they were accounting folks and managers, not data processing people. What we did all day probably seemed like magic in a black box to them, just like their number-crunching and spreadsheets seemed like magic to me. The level of explanation they wanted was way beyond my league, but Dave was able to explain it very well. He has a Master’s in Computer Science, and is a very intelligent man, also very good with people.

Unfortunately, nothing we did worked. We were still trying things until at 10:30 am, Dave called it. I told his bosses, and one of them told me I needed to stay until I found a solution. Several ladies from AP went to him and convinced him to let me go home.

I was in tears. All 25 of those AP employees were going to have to repeat all their work from yesterday. I felt awful that my one-letter mistype caused this whole mess. But all of those employees gathered around me and told me they weren’t mad. Even though Dave’s bosses were very unhappy, they didn’t ever get rude.

I had been at work 25 hours straight. The exhaustion, the stress, lack of sleep, and my painful body got to me. Keep in mind, I was not a healthy person and had several un-diagnosed medical conditions. My disabilities also contributed to this in a big way. I wasn’t exactly the safest driver on the road, but my husband was now at work and couldn’t come get me. My commute took an hour, so I was extra careful.

I didn’t even get fired. Things got back to normal, though I quit typing ahead when doing the AP distro, even though it took longer.

Later, when I got a job at Georgia Tech Library in Systems, I told my boss about this. He laughed and said, “Oh, I did something similar at a job I had. I’ve heard a lot of stories from other people I’ve worked with, so I think everybody’s made a mistake that caused problems for other people.” That made me feel a little better about it, and other more minor mistakes as well. Everyone makes them, but if people aren’t admitting them, it’s easy to think you’re somehow a bad worker.

So, I’m writing this post for all of you out there who might’ve made a major mistake that affected other workers in your department. We’re human. We will make mistakes, sometimes big ones. What matters is your willingness to try to fix it, and how you treat your fellow workers when mistakes happen. My supers remembered to treat their human capital with respect, despite the extra stress, work and cost of my mistake.

We’ve probably all had a boss who lost their temper or wanted to place blame and shame. But, a good supervisor will realize that humans make mistakes and concentrate on fixing the problem, not getting revenge on the person who dared to make it.

Our department pulled together to cope with this mistake. Nobody yelled or got rude. People did express their frustrations, but in a humane manner. Note that there was considerable unhappiness. Nobody wants to repeat work they already did. Nobody wants extra work in a busy department.

But, Northside Realty had a very healthy work culture. The owner of those 22 companies was Johnny Isaakson, a congressman in Georgia for many years.

I didn’t see him often, but when I did, I saw why our work culture was so healthy. One day I came in and saw him greeting one of the custodians. By name. He also greeted me and asked for my name, since this was probably the first time he saw me.

Once, I had to go up to his office to trace down and document the wires from his terminal to where they entered the floor, then to the LAN. This involved crawling around under his desk on my hands and knees, which made me more than a bit nervous. I tend to be a bit timid around men. To my relief, Johnny Isaakson went about his work and phone calls. He wasn’t looking at me. He was friendly, but businesslike, which was exactly what I wanted. After I finished, he asked me some questions about my work. I left feeling like a valued employee. On his desk were pictures of his wife and family. I felt happy to work for this man, a person who treated all his employees well, from computer operator to custodian.

He opened his home to all of us for an annual Christmas party, and treated us to a picnic at Stone Mountain during the summer. Our families were welcome, the food was wonderful, and he provided these activities at his expense. These things really contributed to my happiness at work.

I still remember this job as one of my favorites. I enjoyed tackling problems, most of which we were able to fix, but I really enjoyed working with all these pleasant people. Every Secretary’s Day, like all our employees, I got a rose. Like the realtors, I was allowed to get the supply room to make me a name plate for my desk, which I still have.

A fun tradition we had was, everyone contributed a dollar every month for a communal birthday ice cream cake. The folks who had birthdays that month decided on what kind of cake they wanted, and everyone got a slice on the day nearest to all the birthdays.

Little things like that helped me feel like I belonged. A lot of workplaces could take some suggestions from my experience.

[rameiixo]

another animation exercise, with okarun !

[the-last-butter]

HC they first met a year or two after Yelan got her vision; post fighting the in abyss but when Kaeya was still navigating his identity from Kaeya, Brother and Right hand of Diluc Ragnvindr to Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain and Quarter master of the Knights of Favonius.

[lady-corrine]

Lol. Lmao even 😭

Interviewer: Why did DC ruin Nightwing and Starfire's wedding and broke them up?

Marv: it was a MISTAKE! a DISASTER even! 😭

[stellar-collective]

little thing i’ve been meaning to give my Agent Phoenix for a while and was inspired to finally put to paper by @purplebehittindifferent’s drawing refs!

i’m not a cane user myself so if you are feel free to correct any mistakes i make!

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[justawrites]

I spent way too much time on this but I had to do it

[whitmore]

listen i don’t think adaptations should be 1-to-1 necessarily and even when i read force multiplied way back i had a bit of criticism for it but tog2 is so. aimless. it needed some kind of outline desperately and i’m not saying force multiplied (or tales through time) was the answer but there’s this . utterly distinct lack of anything here. it feels incomplete the entire time and it leaves feeling the same. (and they leave it like this on purpose.) it has it’s incredibly rare good moments but generally speaking it fumbles every single opportunity

[ladyofchroyane]

few things annoy me more than some of this fandoms 1. weird pro-slavers anti-dany bias and 2. stripping a woman’s experience from female characters because they don’t ’woman right’ enough

i don’t even really want to discuss point one because it disgusts me so fucking much. not only is the logic convoluted and always hinges on interpreting dany’s actions in the absolute worst light possible. it is also very, very misogynistic due to the double standards necessary to condemn dany to such a degree while none of the male characters committing the same or worse offenses get even a smidge of criticism from these same people. i’m just going to say one last thing: if you are using pro-confederacy talking points to condemn dany then you are a vile person.

as for point two, this is much more insidious in my opinion. much of it is based on the idea that these specific (normally gender nonconforming) female characters were ‘indulged’ so therefore their experiences do not meet the necessary ‘standards’ to equate to a woman’s experience. it’s insane logic meant to demean a female character and condemn her agency and the choices she made. it’s the type of logic that always veers into the ‘arya was indulged and therefore her experiences are less valid’ or ‘dany’s power and agency makes her experiences less valid because she’s not suffering this specific way’ or ‘lyanna was indulged and is therefore selfish and her experiences are less valid.’ for some reason it is always. always. these three characters getting attacked in this specific way. all three female characters faced the same exact challenges as every. single. other. female character. the same barriers, they share similar experiences with male characters to varying degrees.

arya and sansa were both ‘indulged’ by ned. i agree that ned had an easier time connecting to arya (like how cat had an easier time connecting to sansa), but both girls were indulged (like most noble girls!) and this is framed as a good thing. please don’t turn it into something bad, especially when both instances fostered character growth. after neds death arya continues to have a variety of experiences, and through arya we actually learn what a peasant girls experience looks like! no, arya does not have a boys experience. a girl hiding as a boy in a war zone is a common occurrence in the real world, and it is not just valid to explore but key to understanding george’s views on war. so far though arya we see 1. a non-conforming little girls life whose father was kind but still held gendered expectations for her. 2. a common girls experience without family or class protections going through a war zone. 3. a servant girls experience under feudalism where servants have basically no rights. 4. arya also gives us a multitude of experiences after becoming an acolyte at the hobaw. all of these experiences (including the erasure of arya’s identity and her holding onto it) are important looks into different classes and how outsiders view westeros. people not respecting arya’s very female experience makes me fear that there’s a bit of a aesthetic/male gaze epidemic going on here. arya’s suffering isn’t pretty enough or isn’t in a romantic setting so it gets dismissed. it’s dirty and violent and crass and doesn’t conform to passive suffering. there’s also a classism angle to all of it, though that would require an essay of its own to cover everything. but please remember that at the core of arya’s storyline is a simple truth: the world is hostile to girls.

dany is oftentimes hit by two different anti views: 1. a focus on her lack of agency but no focus on her rise to power 2. a dismissal of the validity of her experience as a female character because she’s risen to power. both views are incredibly self serving and are meant to chip away at character relatability. focusing on her lack of agency is tasteless (imo), and suggests that the person sees dany’s experiences with men/women as a ruler as inherently invalid because she has power that places her above the pecking order. this makes me believe that you cannot handle a female character whose path to power stands as different from the rest. it’s odd to say the least, and tells me that you think there is a right way to gain power just like people believe there is a correct way to end slavery without upsetting the poor economy. as for point two, this is similar to most anti rhetoric levied at arya and lyanna. because the experiences explored through dany and arya and lyanna are outside the norm, and because they are incredibly active characters, they also make waves and are involved in things like… violence *gasp* death *GASP* adultery (this one just relates to dany and lyanna. arya’s three apples tall so this doesn’t apply to her) *GASPGASPGASP*. people seem genuinely unable to handle complexity in women’s lives. some people seem to have a very narrow view on what counts as a woman’s experience, but if a woman steps outside those bounds she is therefore stripped of her womanhood and is fair ground for attacking. this is something i see so clearly in every anti dany post. i’m exhausted tbh.

as for lyanna… well... some people seem to believe that lyanna making active choices (knight of the laughing tree, running away, having a bastard) therefore mean she was ‘indulged,’ which is both true and not true. all noble girls are indulged more than their common girl counterparts, but lyanna was still placed under gendered expectations like all the rest of her peers. lyanna clearly just didn’t let these expectations prevent her from playing around with sticks and riding in a tourney as a mystery knight to defend the honor of howland (who would’ve been considered a nobody to most). her actions were clearly driven by her morals, morals she placed in higher esteem than gendered expectations. trying to strip a woman’s experience from her is just wrong. these people are practically telling on themselves and show that they cannot sympathize nor understand a female character who steps away from the beaten path, and does something considered ‘morally wrong’ in her world and in our own: having an illegitimate child with a married man. oh nooo… anyways. this just proves to me that many women cannot sympathize with a woman who does something they consider ‘wrong’ and that women will take it so far as to invalidate the womanhood of those they consider ‘not right.’ i think of lyanna as a litmus test tbh. i will absolutely judge you for your views on her. if you fail then i am NOT trusting your views on dany and arya.

i want to add onto this actually. catelyn is another character who’d place high on this list, though i’m actually really happy with the direction the fandom is going with her on this issue at the moment. many people struggle with cat because she… *GASP* doesn’t mother jon. cat’s a very active character, but thanks to fandom’s standards, she has the benefit of fitting into our preconceived notions of how a mother should behave—expect in how she treats jon. and then it’s a goddamn bloodbath. i’m glad most people now seem to agree that cat’s character is not only made better, but that it’s completely valid of her to not have mothered jon or theon. still, cat is often criticized for the choices she makes as a mother to protect her children. here, i see a dismissal and even a mocking of motherhood and Love as valid motivations for risky behaviors. and that does disappoint me. however, catelyn didn’t make my top 3 because she experiences confinement—she is stripped of power and agency—and this, i fear, is why she ends up meeting the criteria for what some fans view as a ‘valid’ female character. all because she lost power to her son :/. hopefully it’s obvious that i’m not dismissing this arc, because i do think it’s important to explore. but it’s still vexing to me that a woman’s loss of agency is so often treated as peak feminism (a trend i see a lot in modern feminist literature and one i honestly cringe at).

i believe i covered everything i wanted to. i’m just struggling with this fandom and the way people treat womanhood as some narrow thing with criteria one must meet. womanhood shouldn’t be something that feels so excluding. well, to me it should be embracing and kind and supportive of girls from all walks of life. being a woman makes you a woman. that’s it. that’s all the criteria you should need to meet to be embraced, and that logic should reflect back onto the female characters we all love and care about. thanks for reading :)

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Broke (2016): BBC Sherlock is a phenomenal piece of media and anything that seems like a flaw just hasn't been fully explored yet

Woke (2020): BBC Sherlock is an incredibly flawed series run by an egotistical writer, it never deserved the hype and is actively bad on so many fronts (especially representation)

Bespoke (2024): BBC Sherlock is flawed and bogged down by increasingly poor writing, which many fans refused to see while it was airing, leading to hugely misplaced expectations (particularly for the final series), AND it has the seeds of some compelling characterizations and portrayals, some genuinely solid performances, and touches--albeit imperfectly--on complexities that are still being discussed today (particularly as it relates to the relationship between Sherlock and John). The huge cultural impact of the show has created a massive pendulum effect in its public perception, leading to most people today remembering a caricature of the show (whether positive or negative) rather than appreciating its nuanced merits and failings...that being said Season 4 sucked

[pesedjet]

(word count: 2,963)

Horus had been born a tumultuous babe; whose loud, wailing cries could easily be mistaken as the call of the sacred ibis. Small, spindly, and incredibly weak, Isis held her infant son close as she nursed his premature body back to health. She cradled the small boy in her arms until he quieted, when only the softest of coos escaped his little lips. The goddess looked down at the innocent babe, Horus holding her gaze with those big, beautiful blue eyes. A gaze that knew not of the sacrifice Isis had inflicted upon herself in order to conceive him; knew not of this evil, infested world. It was then she then swore to him in hushed whispers that she would one day exact her revenge on the vile god who had brought her so much misfortune.

As he grew, it was only natural that Horus grew curious of the world around him. Isis kept him at bay, curled up in her arms, protected and safe from the harsh realities of the world. There, she knew he would never be found, never to be seen by the scouts Seth sent after her. Though Horus could not sit still; unfortunate that he had also been born with a keen intuition—one that kept him safe from most predators—but most of all, tested her patience. She tried her best to quench his thirst for exploration, but it did not work. “Do not wander far from me,” Isis had warned him sternly, “There are dangers not even I can protect you from. You must be careful out there.” Yet Horus merely blinked at her; naively disbelieving. How strong was this Seth if his mother hid him so well? Surely, he was nothing to be afraid of.

Many years passed. Horus grew up comfortably—or as comfortable as one could be. Many of his days were spent hiding away from the god that stalked and snarled amongst the reeds. Seth had finally caught wind of Isis’ whereabouts and began to patrol the area, though the goddess was always one step ahead of him, leaving nary a trail behind. She could not afford such luxuries. Mistakes like those would never be tolerated. Isis would even go so far as to not comprehend such thoughts, lest her mind slip and Seth catch up to her, putting an end to Horus’ life for good.

He, however, did not share her sense of urgency. Was it because of her cautious, overbearing nature? Was it because she had spoiled him too much? Was it because he grew restless due to the monotonous days, watching the village children from afar live happy, loving lives, without a care in the world? Was it because he had developed an itch for something greater, grander than what he had so far? Was it because he was simply born the way he was, too adventurous for his own good? Isis did not know. She couldn’t have ever known.

On that fateful day, Horus slipped out of his mother’s embrace, hoping to explore more of the Nile than what he had been allowed. Seth had caught wind of his scent, the sweet smell wafting up from the south. With his lips drawn back into that cruel smile, he stalked the child in the form of a crocodile, watching. Waiting. He trailed him from the shallow waters to the Nile banks, where Horus climbed up and settled down into the wet sand to weave a crude basket out of the leaves he had plucked.

He was not oblivious to Seth’s gleaming eyes—could not be, observing how the crocodile inched ever so closer to his sitting form. Horus rightfully thought he ought to leave, to run back into the safety of his mother’s arms—but unlike before, his intuition remained calm; steady. Rather, he felt drawn to the power the beast exuded; a dark energy that rivaled that of Isis’ magic. It was akin to the hot sun scorching his skin, of claws digging deep marks into his bony flesh, of sharp teeth sinking into his small, brittle body and snapping him in half like driftwood.

This was Seth, he thought to himself. This is the one who had been hunting him down, who made even his mother tremble in fear. Horus did not feel fear, however—no, far from it. He was curious. Trusting, even.

Seth was compelled to stalk closer, noticing his lack of a meaningful response. He had expected the little brat to wail and cry like a babe should; to run off to his mother so that he may follow close behind. Instead, Horus’ calm demeanor unnerved him greatly.

“Why do you not run?” he barked harshly, the sound of his voice grating Horus’ ears. It was unharmonious, scratchy—nothing like Isis’ soft cooing, full of love and wonder. It sounded wonderful. Amazing! To be held with such contempt for reasons Horus could not even comprehend. It made him quiver in anticipation.

He turned to him, his clumsy movements stilling for only a moment. “Because I trust you,” Horus replied solemnly, earning a crude, harsh laugh. Trust? Trust? Seth could only grin wolfishly at this wonderful surprise. Oh, how he had underestimated Isis—or rather, how Isis had underestimated her own son. Like father, like son; too trusting for their own good. Not even the stupid little boy Nephthys had by her side trusted him!

The desert sand swirled and lapped up at the air, whipping up a fierce storm as Seth morphed into his true form. Horus could only look up at him with awe and respect as he came into being, standing tall and proud amid the rippling waves. He held out a strong hand, one filled with cuts and scratches, imploring the boy to take it.

Horus looked up at him, eyeing him curiously, yet wearily. Seth sighed, muttering.

“I know that glint in your eyes, kid. You hunger for power, don’t you?”

He thought for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

“You want to prove your mother wrong,” Seth continued. “You want to show her you’re capable of protecting yourself, of standing on your own two feet. Aren’t you tired of hiding, little one? Of wasting away like this? Don’t you want to become a man? A real man?”

This time, Horus nodded his head enthusiastically. Seth’s grin widened, showing off his unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Then come with me,” he commanded, “I shall teach you my ways. I shall shape you into a fine warrior, worthy of wearing the crowns of Egypt, so that when the time comes, you may fight me fair and square without your mother’s influence.”

It was an invaluable offer. Horus’ instincts tingled—Seth’s words were not to be trusted. He knew what lay before him: an opportunity for the god to slaughter him, to one-up his mother in this relentless struggle he found himself in the middle of. Yet beneath that pulsating, wiggling fear was that innate curiosity; interest. Isis had taught Horus how to defend himself, sure, but only against the creatures of the Nile. She had failed to give him any proper military training and had instead promised him that he needn't lift a finger against Seth. Isis had stacked the cards in her favor, and it was merely a matter of waiting for the right moment to strike.

Thus was the bane of her careful calculations—Horus had always thought it was unfair to make Seth look like a blubbering fool. Why should he take credit for something he ultimately had no hand in doing? Surely it would be more right and just if he had taken Seth head on, even if he was disadvantaged from the very start. With that in mind, Horus took his hand and followed him into the swallowing desert. Isis would never see her son again, not until then.

Seth fully intended to kill Horus before long. At the very least, he would teach him how to fight, how to play dirty; how to hunt and stalk amongst the sand and reeds and rip apart his prey. Either two outcomes would occur: Horus would collapse dead, exhausted from such rigorous military training; or he would succumb to Seth’s own claws. There was no other option.

Every day was meant to kill him, to make sure Horus would never see the next sunrise.

Yet, he persevered.

His thin, childish body soon filled up with angry bruises and welts from the harsh discipline. It groaned in protest as Seth woke him up every day before dawn, unable to recover from the previous battering. Yet, Horus found a strange, almost euphoric thrill in being beaten to near certain death. Gone were the crawling days of passivity; of hiding in fear from sunrise to sunset. Horus packed away those memories of spent in the Nile, of his mother’s overwhelming love, tucking them within the depths of his mind. As Seth’s pupil, he had foregone such luxuries. Now, each day was a pure adrenaline rush, a chance to prove himself to the very god that held his very life within the palm of his hand. No matter how many times he had tried to break the poor boy, Seth was met with a fierce, rugged look of determination; and that quickly earned Horus a begrudging sense of respect.

Soon enough, his once slow, clumsy movements became nimble and assured, able to match up with Seth’s quick wit. So too did his opinion shift—no longer was Seth doing this to spite Isis. Instead, training Horus had instilled within him a renewed sense of self-esteem; one he could never have with Nephthys and her son. It was reflected in the way he trained Horus—dangerous, life-threatening sparring sessions turned into informative, constructive fights. He was proud of how he shaped the boy into his own image, into his own flesh and blood; and Horus, in return, was eager to become the son he had always wanted.

When the time came to reveal himself to the world, it was Seth that stood beside him as his proud parent, a hand placed firmly on Horus’ shoulders.

“Let all of the Ennead know how much I love my son,” he said proudly. “Let them know that I am the true heir of the throne, second only to you.”

Horus’ heart couldn’t help but swell in pride and adoration.

Isis had spent the last long years trying in vain to search for her son, hopelessly believing that he was alive. Nephthys, who felt guilty for the crime Seth had committed, searched alongside her. Together, they left no stone unturned, no grain of sand unsearched, and yet Horus was nowhere to be found. In her grief, she tore at her hair and shaved off her eyebrows, beating her chest as she wailed. Horus, her only connection to Osiris—gone.

When Seth finally revealed himself to the Ennead, Isis was distraught and long gone. Joining in on the crowd, she found herself face to face with the god she had cursed for what seemed like eons—and her son at his side, standing proudly next to him.

She ran, stumbling over her feet as she tackled Horus into a fierce hug. Isis cupped his cheek and wept, pressing fervent kisses against his face. “My baby, my baby,” the goddess sobbed, trying to press her body as close as she could against him. “You’re safe! Gods, you’re safe…”

Horus recoiled slightly in disgust, though he gently pried the weeping goddess of him as to not be rude. Dusting off his clothes, he looked at her quizzically. “I’m sorry,” he began, “but who are you?”

Isis froze in shock. All of the gathered gods froze in shock.

Seth merely grinned, trying to hold back his laughter.

“What?” She asked slowly; exasperatedly. “What? Horus, I’m your mother!”

Horus quirked a brow. “Mother? I don’t have a mother. Seth’s my only parent—my father.”

Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd at this declaration. Tears wetted Isis’ cheeks as she let out a blood-curdling screech, hitting her head with her fists. She clung onto Horus tightly, shaking him as hard as though she could to knock some sense into him. “I’m your mother! I’m your mother!” The goddess howled, “Why won’t you believe me?! I’m your mother! Seth has deceived you!”

Said god was the one who pried her off of him, patting her back in mocking comfort as Horus’ face could no longer hide his revulsion. She whipped her head back to her brother, her eyes blazing with unbridled hatred and fury.

“You!”

He held up his hands in feigned surrender. “Me?” Seth responded, unable to help his growing grin. “What did I do, dear sister?”

“You kidnapped him!” Isis wailed, clawing at him feebly. He took an easy step back, joining Horus as he placed a comforting hand on his hip. “You brainwashed him into thinking he’s your son, you good for nothing—!”

It was that Horus stepped forward now. “Please don’t insult my father like that,” he answered calmly, “He found me, weak and abandoned in the Nile. He couldn’t leave me there to die, so instead he took me in and raised me as his own.” Looking at Seth, he continued, “Isn’t that right, father?”

Seth puffed out his chest proudly, not caring for the fact that Horus believed in such a blatantly self-made lie so easily. “Correct,” he added, “I took pity upon the poor boy. How could such a defenseless, weak little whelp be left all alone on his lonesome?” Suddenly pausing, his face slowly morphed into that feigned surprise as he gasped. “Wait… Don’t tell me… Is he actually your son?”

He couldn’t help but burst out into harsh, barking laughter as Isis glared daggers into him. “Ha! Is that why you’re acting this way, Isis? Do you care to tell the Ennead why you abandoned him, then? Hm?”

“I did not abandon him!” she raged. “You took him from me! Heavens above, I would never do such a thing! You, on the other hand, abandoned your wife and son to raise mine in such lies!” At her side stood Nephthys, who held Anubis in her arms protectively.

Seth only scoffed at such rebuke. “What are you talking about?” he responded boldly, his arms crossed. “Nephthys is no longer my wife, and I certainly have no recollection of that bastard by her side being of my flesh and blood.” Turning back to the Ennead, he remarked, “As you can clearly see, my sister has gone insane. Do you trust her to rule like this? Gods, I hope not! Ennead, let me instead insist to you yet again that I am the rightful heir to the throne. When the time comes and my boy be of age, I shall pass down the mantle peacefully. Mark my words.”

The gods murmured amongst themselves. Isis’ wild frenzy made them hesitant to believe her, in sharp juxtaposition to the calm assuredness that exuded from Horus and Seth. Those who knew the truth kept their tongues still, too cowardly to expose him, lest he trample their temples to the ground in return. In this moment of doubt, clever Thoth stepped forward, a silent hush following as he went.

“Calm yourselves,” he preached soothingly, though specifically towards Isis. “We shall settle this matter in an orderly fashion.” Thoth’s words were first directed to Seth as he spoke. “You claim that Horus is your son, and that much is true. However, Isis’ words cannot be dismissed so easily simply because you claim her to be insane. She is grieving, mind you, so give her some room and time to speak, O Great God.”

Seth did not rebuke, opting to instead huff and roll his eyes.

Now to Isis, he continued. “Assuredly, you may have given birth to the babe—but is it not true that Seth had taken part in raising him too? If one were to weigh his heart upon the scales, it would not tip against Ma’at. Therefore, it is up to Horus to claim what is his birthright, whether it be yours, Seth’s, or both. He is, after all, a fine young man now—I can only assume he is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.”

Waving a hand over the young god, a flood of memories washed through Horus’ body. Not that they had necessarily been forgotten—rather, it was a reminder of his distant past. A reminder of the smothering love that was meant only for him, of his time in the wading in the reeds, of falling asleep curled upon his mother’s stomach. Such scenes swirled and meshed with his memories of Seth, that brutal and unforgiving sternness, giving rise to a rugged love that came to define him. Horus shuddered, the sensation akin to Isis’ pure magic that had once coursed through his body as Thoth slowly lowered his arm.

“So,” he said finally, “What do you think?”

Horus held his breath. Though Thoth had assured him that there was no wrong choice, it was clear there was a right and a wrong. Even then, he had already made up his mind; the only reason as to why he hesitated was due to Isis’ pleading, hopeful look. For a moment, Horus considered what it would be like to be her son yet again. Would it have been as enjoyable as being Seth’s, as rewarding? Perhaps in a different life it would’ve been; certainly, it would’ve been easier to let her take the reins of his destiny. But Horus was not one who thought of such ifs; did not care for such things.

With a firm tone that brooked no room for argument, he gave Thoth his answer.

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of astrid hofferson. she's turned with her back to the camera and looking over her shoulder. she's holding a stick with a sheep tied at each end like a weighted bar and she's very buff. in the background is the sea and are jagged rock formations emerging from it. End ID]

death to giving canonically mega strong female characters stick arms. enjoy, bisexuals <3

[mwolf0epsilon]

I have some major gripes with the premise of 'Day of the Diesels' and honestly think it could be fixed if, for once, the stale 'Steamies vs Diesels' plotline had been disregarded and the movie actually showcased the diesels in a more sympathetic light.

I'm not here to say characters like Diesel, Arry & Bert, and Diesel 10 are completely blameless in their acquired bad rep. Lets face the fact, they're deceitful, have a rather aggressive approach to things, and more often than not they are out to cause trouble for others because they think it's funny.

But come on man... Going for the same kind of storyline where Steam Engines and Diesel Engines are at each other's buffers just for the fact they're different types of engine is kind of lazy at this point (especially considering the fact this was done before in 'Calling All Engines').

Wouldn't it be much more compelling if, for once, the diesels actually do have a rightful reason to be causing a ruckus (their home is decrepit, unsafe and lacks basic amenities for maintaining them) and (because they feel like they can't be upfront about their concerns due to their past misbehavior), they end up making this grand convoluted scheme that goes terribly sideways, but that ultimately gives way for some actual exploration of why Sir Topham Hatt's management of the diesels feels so underwhelming in comparison with the great care he takes in tending to his steam engines?

It could even be that the fat controller doesn't realize he's neglecting them a bit because he's so focused on trying to keep the steam engines from ever wanting for more (I mean, the time of steam has come to an end in the mainland, so of course he'd be worried about the future of his beloved steam engines he's had for so much longer!).

On a logical standpoint, it's considerably easier to get diesels and new parts for diesels nowadays, so Sir Topham Hatt would postpone something he feels like can be done in the snap of a finger versus something that might potentially take much too long... And that's the mistake here.

The fact the diesels can get new stuff so easily but don't, could be the crux of the issue. Prioritization, procrastination and perhaps a bit of forgetfulness and obliviousness to the mess one has made...

[abirddogmoment]

today's hot take for dog people: management is not the same thing as training.

[normalbirb]

"Its not in character for them to be a bad parent"

To be a good parent you have to be a good person, but being a good person is also not enough for you to be a good parent.

[autumnoakes]

hello lu fandom i have started falling back into lu and i have thoughts on wild again

anyways i think that there are a few members of the chain that don't trust wild or give him the ability to demonstrate his own abilities. and i imagine it would be frustrating for wild to constantly be held at arm's length or constantly be yelled at for doing things incorrectly. legend, time, and warriors are the worst for this.

this post by @luna-loveboop (sorry for the tag!) discusses how warriors tends to view wild and how wild acts in response to that. wars has been shown to hold wild to the standard of one of his soldiers, which is not something he does with any of the other links. in turn, wild doesn't really know how to act around or talk to warriors. legend (although he has been shown to joke around with wild from time to time) doesn't seem like he really likes wild much, let alone trusts him. leg's always calling wild things like "crazy" and insinuating that wild is too uncivilized and routinely nitpicks the way he does things. time, right now, is just on edge so he's more of a hardass than usual. he and wild tend to get along well, but i personally tend to headcanon that there's still a lack of trust in there.

i think it can be insulting to wild when he's a hero in his own right, who woke up with nothing one day and was told to save the world. yes, his methods are different from a lot of the others' methods but that's the nature of his game(s). i think the way that legend and warriors routinely treat wild is the most telling and the most likely to cause issues. wild hasn't said anything about this yet. either he doesn't want to cause a problem or he just hasn't noticed.