#MISDevelopment

[supertrainstationh]

DOCTORS OF DOG LAND

by A. Griffin / Super Train Station H

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Once upon a time, in a country far away, lived a society of canines that walked on only two legs. They wore shirts, and also pants, and could hold things with their hands, and they ran a hospital whose science work was quite advanced. One patient they cared for, submitted by her parents, had symptoms most unusual, their cause far from apparent. When happy without fail rather than simply wag her tail, she weirded others out by doing strange things with her mouth, making expressions unacceptable, whose wrongness needn’t be mentioned, reacting to being glad by making a face that threatened - with twisted corners of the mouth, demanding bad attention. For a dog to show their teeth, threatens a bite to all who see - that a happy pup would act like that was strange, and near obscene. There were other factors too, filling the folder of her case - as stimuli of normal life caused vividly painful headaches. Senses smashed by overwhelming force, over-loads would occur, bending sight and sound, into phantasmagoric blur. She'd also stare at certain plants, then strangely say, they were pretty, so came batteries of fancy tests to diagnose her quickly. The doctors sat down grimly with her father and her mother, and explained that their dear little girl had visions plagued by "color". A study of her eyes determined over-active cones, making normal waves of light appear as strange and separate tones. Her enjoyment of these hues expunged alternative conclusions - this afflicted little girl was clearly suffering delusions. Arcs of broken light she said, bowed skyward after rain, illusions such as these signaled a misdeveloped brain. And for the chronic headaches there was nothing they could do, but they prescribed her medication so she'd see as others do. Isolated as she was she longed to be included - since strange things made her happy, it fit perfect to remove them. She called chromatic deviations wonderful, and nice to see, but disturbing thoughts like that could be suppressed with therapy. Patient complaints of her new vision, were really nothing worth a listen - professionals were sparing her the pain of seeing different. It would be cruel not to address her habit with her mouth - that teeth-exposing tick, when happy, needed wringing out. Just how to come about a cure, posed somewhat of a puzzle, until a genius doctor strapped the girl up in a muzzle. Its calibrated sensors administered electric shocks, that provided helpful feedback, each and every time she talked - and also if she regressed, by wasting time staring at flowers, there was no doubt she could be fixed, with scientific power. There was word that special glasses, might be all that it would take, to lessen certain bands of light that triggered her headaches, but that would signal "strange condition" and cause outsider suspicion - and making her look normal was the object of the mission. There were extremists out there who claimed the "color" thing was cool, though those mutts lacked PhDs and couldn't change the rules. And if some had become doctors, and spectromatic sight they had, that disqualifying trait signaled they needed to be banned. The goal was not to understand and lend a helping hand - enforcing homogeneity was normalcy's demand. Oh if struggle could be softened, without persecuting patients - but thinking so inventive, was the future's innovation. So within the narrow focus of the logic then at hand, they heeled unto textbook commands, for treatment plans in Dog Land.

If you liked this poem, you might like my work-in-progress YouTube video series Barrier Aggression, in which I provide detailed commentary on a few non-disabled disability gatekeepers who have put themselves in charge of an "autism advocacy" nonprofit.

(this isn't a criticism of science/medicine helping disabled people, its a criticism of science/medicine "treating" characteristics that are only problems in the context of them not being seen as "normal" by typical people)

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MY LINKS

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[the-fabled-void]

You must let a Sci develop naturally into a Classic naturally without interference. If not, you may risk stopping his development in his current form, or misdevelopments occurring

[bitchin-witchin]

CW in tags too but this post will contain mention of like... cosmic non-con (lack of bodily autonomy), mpreg (he's afab but he's a guy so, mpreg) and fpreg, and miscarriage happening with one underage Anakin. And like... cosmic incest? Anakin force shenanigans. Just tread with caution if any of these things sound upsetting.

about halfway thru under a space themed text divider is some stuff about an alternative timeline with some Tatooine slave culture where Anakin leaves the order and returns to Tatooine to start a revolution. I might post separatly so people dont have to wade thru the weird preg stuff to get to it.

Erm. That one hc where Anakin is something more like a clone of his mom but not totally bc of genetic variation from the forces influence. Or like a stem cell baby. The force didn't really do much for him phenotypically, so they're not total copies but appearance wise... but very similar.

We won't get too much into the nitty gritty bc it's just an excuse to get him pregnant like his mom did bc he got the organs for it from her >:3c

The first time he doesn't even realize it's happened. he's barely a teen, still in the midst of his padawan training. He has been feeling cramps and notices clotted blood, but it's so early that there's been very little symptoms and it doesn't feel or look too different from his normal cycle. he's never been good with tracking it anyway so he just assumes he's menstruating. The force had been feeling different around him but he doesn't recognize it for what it means and has a whole mess of other adolencent concerns he's focused on like his relationships with other padawans and jedi, his temple studies, the genesis of his festering mental illnesses... kdbvhjf.

The second time is, of course, during the passing of his mom and Geonosis (the process of miscarriages happen over a period of time like a few days to a few weeks depending on the situation). chronic stress, dangerous and excessive exercise (like killing a lot of Tuskens), lack of sleep, bad nutrition, it's a whole concoction (yes irl miscarriages are rarely from any of these things but hard to explain the magical baby being misdeveloped when it worked great the first time (birth of Anakin)). This time he DOES know, recognizes the feeling of the force as a new life form, has more obvious symptoms of pregnancy, and he is very scared and confused because he would have been a virgin when the egg was conceived. And when he sees Padme he's all self conscious about how his body might look, is it as obvious to her as much as it is to him? Will she be disappointed or disgusted if they have sex and she doesn't see what she expects? sexual intimacy scary.... if she finds out will she believe the truth of the situation? Or will she think him unfaithful? ;w; much to agonize over

The third time is during the war once its in full swing. Idk a specific timeline. could be really evil and say Rako Hardeen or Ashoka leaving arc. HMMMM. Ashoka leaving would ofc hurt.... Can't keep any of his damn kids. Somehow the "second" time feels worst than the "first". The guilt and anger and hopelessness compounded. Why does the force keep doing this? Is he not loved even by it? Cannot he not be in control of his own body even now? He is supposed to be free.... (why does the force do this indeed. My excuse is that maybe it's a well-intentioned-but-nevertheless-fucked-up-way to guide Anakin onto a different path, except even the force cannot get plans to go right when they revolve around anakin. it is both a most beloved and mourned aspect of its child.)

The next time kids are a potential future, it's Padme! Maybe they did the stem cell baby procedure, maybe it was the force again. maybe they were rubbing off on each other and fingerbanging so the force manipulates Anakin's makeup to make it possible for Padme to be impregnated. lmao. weird magic makes for many possibilities. If the force is responsible Padme would ofc also feel extremely violated. Either way, choice or not, Anakin has too much birth trauma to do it and out of the two of them shes least often in active war zones and such. So Anakin is like, surely nothing bad will happen now. And it looks like the war will end just in time so he can leave the Jedi on a good note and have his wife and kids! Oh no, what are these nightmares? and so goes the rest....

🛸　.　　•. 　🌎　°　.•　🌓　•　　.°•　　•　🚀 ✯. •. . •. 　.　•　★　*　　　　　°　　.　　🛰 　°·　　•. ๏ .• 🪐 .　•　•　° ★　• ☄. ๏ •. . •. . •. . •. • ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▇▆▅▄▃▂▃▄▆▇▇▆▅▄▇▆▅▄▃▁▂

Alternative timeline perhaps: After Ashoka and after Clovis, Anakin is like no one loves me I hurt everything I touch everyone leaves me in the end time to go die in the desert I was born to. So he goes to Tatooine, gets a speeder, goes out into the dunes, directionless, no supplies, fully intending to never come back. But being who he is, he stumbles upon or falls into an ancient temple that has long forgotten ties to the force (Inspired by the idea of Tatooine being an old af planet and having old af strong relations to the existence of the force (it is where the chosen one was conceived after all)) and goes thru the painful but liberating process of spiritual renewal. He leaves the desert with revived dreams and newfound courage to live on to create a better world and change to be a better person. and!! this time he gets to choose to have his babies when he decides he's ready to try again. but first, he is going to accomplish his dreams freeing the first family he knew, help lead his people to free others, and eradicate slavery from the galaxy. yayyyy. Sometime here he has the twins bc a galaxy-wide slave revolution is a long ass thing. He'd be waiting all that time otherwise. Perhaps once Tatooine's freedom is achieved, then. Here he knows his children will remain free because he has done and will continue to ensure so as long as he lives.

He reluctantly returns to Coruscant as the people of this union of freed planets agree to elect him as a representative. Not as a senator though. The union wants to stay separate from the republic, but is willing to coexist. Anyways, his return allows for Padme and the Jedi (Obi-Wan!!!!) to meet the bebes, now like 4, 5 years old. Padme and Obi-wan only first see him in the senate rotunda tho and wow! what a shock that is. emotionally unrepressed and matured Anakin is crazy to see. Also his clothes FUCK. learned from him wife. Padme has moved on bc like, he LEFT. but it does hurt to see him again. and doing well without her. But they come to an understanding after a big conversation and then Anakin is like "wanna meet my kids?" LOL

Less fluffy and more in line with Anakin's political philosophy shaped by his childhood, he kind of ends up being a warlord. Not out of bad intentions, he wants to bring peace and stability but believes that is best achieved through certain sacrifice. There is no such thing as a bloodless revolution when the oppressor uses fear and violence to keep you oppressed through generations. Also. Dukkra ba dukkra. For those who might not know, the fan language Amatakkan (tatooine slave language) uses the same word for freedom and death. So I like to think by slaughtering slavers he believes he is freeing them from the chains of greed and corruption. He still has his babies and family is his everything. One of his primary motivators as a warlord is the control he gets to protect them. And it would make for a juicy senate meeting. Like yeah. this guy is unapologetically a killer and feels justified in it!! The senate, Padme, Obi-wan, and the Jedi order aren't really reconciling with that. And if the Republic refuses to let their union of planets conduct their own affairs they are ready to protect what is theirs. Dukkra ba dukkra. They will be free.

Just to go wild with this idea, Anakin has figured out Palpatine's identity as a sith lord during his time on Tatooine and spearheading a revolution (probably some key stuff revealed by the force when he ungoes his spiritual renewal and more discovered through his own research following those key reveals). Palpatine invites him to his office bc like, his would-be apprentice is stronger in the force than ever and is now a warlord lol. He needs to get a grip on things again bc this could fuck up his plans more than Anakin leaving did. Palpatine tries to manipulate him into compliancy by bringing up he knows about Anakin's kids but he doesn't realize Anakin figured out Palpatine was trying to groom him before and so no longer holds a scrap of loyalty to him for that. Anakin's love was his only protection from Anakin. And when Palpatine threatens the wellbeing of his kids? His family? That seals the deal. He will end this tyrant's reign too. Of course this doesn't go over well with the Republic and the Jedi order but palpatine's deception and crimes are gradually revealed, so it's... a smidge less bad. but still bad.

Anyways. I think i'll stop here. this post is so long 😭😆

[todaysbug]

October 20th, 2023

Western Conifer Seed Bug (Leptoglossus occidentalis)

Class: Insecta

Distribution: Native to North America, west of the Rockies; recently expanded its range to the rest of North America (excluding the southeastern United States), as well as being introduced to Argentina and most of Europe.

Habitat: Mainly lives on and around coniferous trees; can also be found entering buildings in search for shelter for the winter.

Diet: Polyphagous; feeds on sap from developing conifer cones as well as twigs, seed pulp and occasionally pine needles; occasionally feeds on angiosperms. Prefers Douglas-fir, ponderosa pine, lodgepole pine and white spruce within its native range.

Description: The Western Conifer Seed Bug is a long name, and it's thus often abbreviated as the WCSB. This insect is a minor tree pest, though it can cause extensive damage in tree plantations. When it sucks the sap from conifer cones, this causes them to misdevelop and whither, rendering them sterile.

When threatened, the WCSB's first line of defence is to emit a foul-smelling pheromone to ward off predators. If this doesn't work, it will stab with its long proboscis; unfortunately for the WCSB, it is adapted only for sucking plant sap, and thus hardly causes injury to large attackers.

The WCSB searches for crevices in which to overwinter, which can become an issue for those living in conifer-rich forests; these insects can enter homes in considerable numbers while seeking shelter. While they don't usually cause too many issues, they have the capacity to cause plumbing leaks by piercing polyethylene pipes with their mouthparts.

(First image by Graham Calow (adult), second by Tristan Bantock (nymph))

[mercurialbadger]

A bit of a pet peeve.

Colonialism improves the conditions of imperial core over periphery through consistently siphoning resources out and misdeveloping the periphery.

It does not mean that the US oligarchs are stealing the equivalent of a superyacht from the people in a nomadic tribe, like, directly and in monetary value.

As such, yes, you have to accept that people in, say, Central Africa are paid less because, predominantly, their labour efficiency and labour organization is much lower than that of Western Europe.

Netherlands is a country that benefitted from colonialism, this much is true, it's a 131th place worldwide in area which absolutely sucks for growing vegetables.....

And it's number 2 in vegetable export - export of very high quality, I must say as a plant physiologist!

The impoverishment of modern periphery countries is a result of processes if establishment of imperial core - not of its maintenance.

A good example is China, but generally I think that we should think broadly and recognize that we don't need impoverishment of countries of the core for improving lives worldwide assuming BAU on the social state system and environmental collapse.

After all, lend lease if Ford to USSR was much less about actually bringing cars across Germany - it was in terms of buying out intellectual property of the Schematics.

[onewomancitadel]

Best Mate and I were discussing Paul Atreides (as you do) and the point she expertly made really is that the Greek tragedy is quite structurally foreign now. The pathos and unfairness you're meant to feel for someone who is a victim and perpetrator of the tragic cycle is read as like, misdeveloped character, rather than a feeling to engage with and derive catharsis from.

Why is it unfair? Why does it hurt so much? It's not about what they could've done, it's not a tragedy that you could change by not being an idiot or by making a better decision here or there, it's something more essential than that. I think that's part of the modern misdirection (in say, mainstream media) because the fault line isn't one decision or one slip of bad writing.

In some ways it feels like a personal betrayal narratively.

[infini-tree]

ok so now i’m just going to list all my oc’s now because i have A Lot now. also a brief description of the schools. a lot of these are co-created w @penning-captain-underpantsff​ so there’s going to be overlap. last updated april 2023.

tag list

general tag | selainius | sception | teahide | biamile

besser middle school: a smaller school near the piqua community centre. woefully underfunded to the point that they don’t have a library. as a result, the principal of said school needed to make a deal with said neighboring community center so the kids could use their library for their curriculum

thea selainius: (miscellaneous) principal; used to teach history. even expresso can’t melt her typically frosty exterior.

beatrice teahide: (beady eyed / misty-eyed) english teacher. cries whenever she has to cover romeo and juliet for her curriculum

mr. mark: (miss the mark) teacher with subject to be determined

joseph wardell high school: while much more better funded than either jerome horwitz or besser, the principal usually makes the school end up in hot water for one reason or another, leading to them having to pay absurd amounts to take care of the problem in the first place

conway turner biamile: (country mile / turn left by a mile / missed her by a mile) principal; used to teach english. tends to be really oblivious about a lot of things

mrs. abbott: (messes about) vice principal and the more no-nonsense one of the two. the one who’s actually running the school

(note: jerome horwitz, besser, and joseph wardell has the theme naming of being named after the actors who played the third stooge in the three stooges. why are all of them the third stooge? i think this is much funnier.)

assorted members of the piqua school board

rhys crien: (recipient / miscreant) a superintendent with an ironic name. (tetocu canon has no bearing, so she’s always been the superintendent).

mrs. teem: (misesteem) the principal before krupp for jhes; currently retired in mainverse, was the one who made the jammer of jerome horwitz have to go to the Strictest School In Piqua in sticky notes au

ms. stalthut: (missed all that) principal of the other, as of yet unnamed elementary school. somehow has kept out of the weird plot/monster of the week shenanigans and is kind of a joke character in that regard.

mr. vehlop: (misdevelop) unnamed elementary school’s vice principal. would sue captain underpants for destroying his car if he could. also kind of a joke character

faculties in piqua

terrance sception: (interception / misperception) librarian at the piqua community centre. former STINKS spy responsible for sabotaging the Omega Toilet and bird expert

brooke schmaltz: (book smarts) sception’s coworker

tomas towe: (tomato / mistletoe) greenhouse worker and member of gardening club; biamile’s current romantic partner

Stealthy Termination and Infiltration of Knowledge Sustainers (S.T.I.N.K.S.): countergroup set up to sabotage the Omega Toilet project that ree was a part of as seen in S01E05 of tetocu. the group had thought that the project was dangerous due to the potential for flooding, pollution, and getting rid of information quick.

S.N. “essen” toriko: (eccentric) former director of STINKS. disappeared after the final sabotage.

sue R.T.: (surety) former [REDACTED] of STINKS, currently a practical FX artist. one of the few agents sception is in semi-regular contact with.

selainius relations

julius: stray cat adopted by selainius. mischievous boy :3

simon selainius: (simultaneous) father; co-runs local hole in the wall restaurant 

sofia selainius: (spontaneous) mother;  co-runs local hole in the wall restaurant

geronimo ‘ronnie’ stehp: (wrong step) cousin; unlike his namesake, is much more outgoing

o. vera stehp: (overstep) originally the hypno that sold george the novelty hypno pendulum in the pmd au. in the mainverse, she runs a mom-and-pop shop. also related to selainius now by way of distant cousins

teahide relations

myla teahide: (mind’s eye) mother

burt teahide: (bird’s eye) father

ramona teahide: sister

theodore ‘teddy’ lewis teahide-krupp: son by way of teahide and jasper and kipper’s half brother. has interest in photography and filmmaking in mainverse

sception relations

??? “reese” sception: (reception) father; location unknown. radio host

esther sception: (exception) mother; location unknown. some sort of drafter. 

biamile relations

millicent 'millie', minerva 'minnie' biamile: ([a] million miles [away], [a] mile a minute) twin sisters; second and third youngest

walter biamile: (walk a mile in someone’s shoes) brother; second oldest

stephen biamile: ([a journey of a thousand miles begins with a] single step) eldest brother; deceased

stan biamile: (stand out a mile) father; deceased

michelle biamile*: (miss by a mile) mother; deceased

( * maiden name was 'atrich', making her michelle atrich and her old pun being based on '[not] miss a trick')

etch: because biamile’s relations section was getting long, this one is based on the ones from his divorce.

gabrielle etch: (give an inch [he'll take a mile]) ex wife; divorced amicably in mainverse

everett etch: (be every inch the [x]) eldest kid

winona etch: (within an inch [of your life]) middle kid; wants to get a teaching career

gavin etch: ([not] give an inch) youngest kid. yes i know that’s the same pun as his mom, technically

daisy: corgi :)

other townsfolk

dawn terthe: (down to earth) moxie’s high school sweetheart. geologist

percy: (perception) the scepsel foster kid that sometimes exist whenever i’m in a fankid mood. has an interest in dinosaurs.

[fjordfolk]

i see that ive shed some followers since last night

does this have anything to do with my insinuating one might have to kill an under- or misdeveloped wyandotte chick, or is it completely unrelated?

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

My Design VII

—

Will is in the middle of a lecture - discussing the influence of childhood experiences on the behavioural bias of profilers, something most of the class was up in arms about the moment he suggested their own experiences may cause a break in a case, or the misdevelopment of a necessary profile - when the lights are thrown on and Jack is stood in the doorway.

“We’ve got her.”

The words send a chill directly down his spine as the head of the BAU scare the students from their chairs. He hopes that the she isn’t who his stomach is telling him it is. That the echo of a laugh, in his head or from the shadows in the curve of his theatre - Will can’t fully tell, that genuine and raw laugh he had not heard in months made him break out in a cold sweat.

“Will, did you hear me? We’ve finally picked her up, some abandoned house in Duluth we got a report her car was parked at.” Jack’s rough voice cut through the laugh, the self-satisfied grin on his face as he clapped the smaller man on the back made Will’s fingers twitch. “We finally captured Joanna fucking Harvelle.”

“Congratulations, Jack.” He heard the words leaving his mouth, heard the words formed in his voice, but did not feel them coming out. It was as if his body moved without his permission, spoke without his say so, and followed the gloating man down the corridors, all while Will himself floated along in a fog inside of himself. Standing and then being swept under the swell of the river in his mind. “I suppose this means you will be wanting your file back.”

“Not just yet, we still need to create a profile of her. You will still be needed for this.” Jack responded sharply, leading the pair of them towards one of the interrogation rooms, holding the door to the viewing side of the mirror open for Will to walk through. “Alana is currently conducting the initial interview.”

As Will stepped into the room, his eyes darted rapidly between the scene through the glass, and the tall, well dressed man watching in the darkness already. The monster and the angel both demanding his attention as he drew to a stop a few feet into the space, both with so much blood upon their hands that if it could it would drown them all, yet only one was wearing hand cuffs strapped to the table top.

As Jack shut the door behind them, blocking out the light from the corridor and leaving the three men in the almost darkness created by the low glow of the fluourescent light in the interrogation room, Will felt the ragged breathing of the stag behind his neck as he fell into line between Hannibal and Jack.

“Continue with the interrogation, Dr. Bloom. The last one is here.” The older man’s voice crackled through the intercom as Alana poured herself a glass of water.

Through the glass, Will felt more than saw the woman freeze mid question, hands drawing back across the table as much as possible with the clinking of the chain. The blonde drew back from the comfortable slump she had been in, as she turned in her chair to face the mirror instead of the other woman.

“Joanna, Joanna, what were you saying?” Alana spoke in the same gentle voice Will remembered from his own time in that chair, hands leaning forward on the shelf of the glass as he leant in, eyes focussed on the brown dancing about the mirror, searching. “You were talking about a man, someone called Ash?”

The blonde did not apper to respond, eyes focussed upon the mirror and rising to her feet as she did so, chained wrists keeping her from being able to approach. Her eyes would occasionally stare directly into his own as they travelled around the mirror. Those fleeting seconds, he felt his own breath stop, caught and held as his eyes were.

“Joanna?”

“Sorry Doc, but I really ain’t interested in talkin’ to you anymore.”

“What?”

“I mean, this small talks been fun - reminiscing ‘bout my childhood, my life growin’ up without my Dad, friends I used to have, all that jazz. But really, what’s that goin’ to give you that you don’t already know ‘bout me? Nadda, jack fuckin’ shit.”

Will could hear the amusement leeching through her voice, could see her as she saw him even through the glass, even though she could not pin point exactly where he was. See the way she was not the one caught in the spiders web of the FBI, but that the FBI were the ones trapped in hers. She had not been caught, she had come here on her own free will in one way or another.

“Please, Joanna, sit down so we can resume-”

“Alana, was it? Sorry Alana, but I’m not interested in answerin’ your stupid questions any more. Tell that asshole voice to send in someone fun.” The way she seemed to purr the word made the hairs on the back of Will’s neck stand up, as his bloody angel smiled towards him. He could feel the goosepimples bloom along his neck, into his hair and up his arms, tracing where her fingers once had trailed. His breath hitched as he watched her sink back into the chair, one denim clad leg crossed over the other, the muddy boots on her feet the same he remembered by his front door, smile growing wider as she looked across at the table to the peturbed woman. “Get me one of them from behind there-” The blonde jerked her head towards the mirror without looking away from the other woman. “-so you all could learn a real thing or two ‘bout interrogatin’, Doc.”

Will could see the way Alana’s eyes flickered across to the mirror, before Jack buzzed through his approval to the woman. The dark haired psychiatrist rose from her position at the table and exited the room, joining the men moments later, unsteady on her feet.

“Alana, I thought that was going well.”

“It was until you spoke up. Something just… clicked in her, did you see? She suddenly changed from open and friendly and very much a typical midwest girl, to something…truly unsettling.”

He saw.

“Perhaps we give her what she wants.” Hannibal’s voice cut through Will’s fog, like a wave of ice water poured over him and jolting him back from where he was leaning against the mirror, forehead pressed against the cool glass dark eyes piercing through to the hard brown of the bloody murderess’. “Jack, if I may?”

“Sure thing, see if you can get a guage on her from inside.” The head of the BAU waved a hand in agreement before the other moved out the door. From the corner of his eye, Will could see the stag padding along behind the monster as the door closed behind him.

The pair entered the interrogation room shortly after, and Will found himself pressing against the glass again as the blonde woman’s posture barely shifted at all at the monster’s presence. Her hands remained on her knee as she surveyed the other, rudely ignoring the hand held out in greeting by the psychiatrist.

“Damn, I was hopin’ that the cute one would come in.”

“My apologies, Miss Harvelle,” Hannibal sat calmly down opposite her, his elbows and arms resting in a careful mimickry of informality as he stared across the table at the woman. “If you would prefer, we can have another psychiatrist speak with you.”

“Nah, that’s okay, I had meant to speak with you face to face one day, Mr. Lecter.” The title was sneered across the tabletop from one to the other, the smirk on her face not shifting as the blonde woman rested calmly in her seat as if she was not chained. “I had expected it to be at the end of my gun, however.”

“Charming,” Hannibal’s voice was like silk, and Will found himself sucking in a breath as we watched the pair speak. “Do you speak with many persons in such positions?”

“Not nearly as many that deserve it.”

“And do you believe that I would deserve it for that expectation?”

“I believe you already know the answer to that question..”

Will found himself smiling despite himself as the woman’s response, the small smirk on her lips and jiggle of her folded foot showed a clear lack of concern to the monster that sat across from her. ‘I kill things worse than him for breakfast.’ He could hear the words clear as day, whispered in his ear as she raised a blonde brow across the table at the doctor.

“Well then, perhaps a different question for us to start with then.” The psychiatrist leant back in his own chair, hands folding over one another as he stared back at the woman. “Your victims-”

“The monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“Or demons, sometimes angels if they’ve gone too far off track.”

“Angels? So you are religious. A Christian?”

“Hell fuckin’ no! God left the buildin’ years ago. You’d know all ‘bout the grace of goodness leavin’ you behind long ago, wouldn’t you Mr. Lecter?”

The two other viewers appeared to shift uncomfortably, at the woman’s words - whether from the godlessness or the words echoing the suggestions that Hannibal was anything but a calm, wellmannered doctor - and Will could almost feel their eyes dart to him at that moment. For his part, Will could hear the laughter again, and watching the pair in the other room, he saw the smirk on his bloody angel’s mouth grow wider still, laughing silently, mockingly, rudely at Hannibal.

“In my line of work, it is a terrible thing to be forced to stare into the abyss that is the world’s darkest minds and actions.” The foreign man replied back calmly, as the pair beside Will appeared to begin whispering to one another. “Such a terrible thing to stare into the void-”

“And the void stares right back, yeah yeah, very fuckin’ poetic there. How has no one called you out on your dramatic as shit persona yet?” Joanna Harvelle interrupted and snapped back, pulling her hands as if to cross her arms before being jerked from completing the move by the chains loop on the table. Groaning, she stood up instead and sat atop the end of the metal frame instead of back in her seat, facing straight across at the mirror instead of acknowledging the other man. Speaking directly through the mirror, as if to Will’s companions, a pleading tone drawing into her words as she dropped one hand and managed to draw her fingertips through the ends of her hair. “Really, how has no one noticed this yet? Is this whole fuckin’ Bureau filled with idiots or somethin’? The man speaks and I feel like I’n stuck in a goddamn Shakespeare play every second of it, and ya’ll don’t question the clear flare for the dramatics and theatrics at all?”

This time Will did not bite down the responding laugh her words brought out as his two colleagues gasped and growled at the affronts. Hannibal’s own eyes flashed for a moment as his hands shifted to rest the other way around. Joanna for her part seemed to ignore the psychiatrist from that point on, sitting fully atop the table top with her legs crossed like a child in school, and hands in her lap.

“Truly, I expected better from ya’ll. I really, really did. Guess it don’t take much to get a badge these days-” She didn’t stop the laugh that came up then, the sounds filling Will’s ears with the warm sound that he had craved to hear for months. “-though I will say I’ve managed to get a hold of a few in my time anyways.”

“Did she just admit to impersonating a Federal Agent?” Jack Crawford hissed, fist hitting violently into the window frame as he stared into the interview room.

“She did,” Alana replied, stepping a few feet away from the mirror itself, as if to distance herself from the blonde woman who appeared to still be mocking the psychiatrist, the Agency and the world itself on the table inside. “She also appears completely erratic, and all over the place. One second she talks of God, then demons or the Agency. It’s truly manic.”

“It’s not manic, it’s choreographed, it’s perfectly curated, it is so clearly designed and manipulated to impact each person that hears it. It’s beautiful and it is her design…” Will found himself replying, voice quiet as he leant into the cool glass, hand pressed against it beside him as if to reach forward to his bloody angel. He paid no mind to the concerned and furious looks the other two gave him.

“She is telling the truth and weaving a fiction at the same time, she is attacking each of you in your own way, with your own beliefs and truths thrust forward. She is accusing you of ignorance and arrogance, Jack - something no one elese is willing to do for you.” He found himself  drawing out of his mind, as if appearing before her, sat cross-legged and atop the metal tabletop right in front of her, her voice a warm tone filling his ears as he stroked her unseeing face. “She is accusing you of blindness, of being blinded by your lust and desires, Alana. First for me, and now for Hannibal. She sees you both.”

Alana appeared to flush and splutter, hands smoothing down the skirt of her pantsuit at his words, while Jack simply punched the wall again in frustration.

“What about Hannibal, then, Will? What is she saying behind it all to him?” Alana found her voice, slightly wavering and uncomfortable, however Will did not see that as he simply remained staring into the deep, dark eyes that saw right through to him. The murderess was staring directly at him, through the projection of him and into his eyes behind the mirror, as if knowing exactly where he was and that he was as drawn into her as she was him.

“She is teasing him. Taunting him to draw him out. The him that she is seeing, not the polished man he presents to us all.” His voice was barely above a whisper, eyes wide and pupils taking up almost all of his irises despite the light of the room. Will found himself sinking, drowning, overwhelmed by the depths he stared into, swallowed by the warmth and clarity he saw within them. “She wants to draw him into the light, to expose him, to make him forget the carefully crafter facade he shows.”

Looking into the room, Will found his eyes leaving hers between a blink to see the fury simmering within the psychatrist as the woman continued to ignore him in favor for staring through the mirror back at Will himself.

His shiny lure was luring them all in, and the dark smile that blossomed across her face made Will’s heart leap. His lure had caught her fish, and he could feel himself biting down on her hooks, unable to detach.

—

As he is shown along the corridors and through the barred gates, Will can barely control the jump the slam of the gates bring out as he is guided through to the therapy room. The orderly’s at each point avoid his gaze, remembering the time he had spent there in chains and a navy jumpsuit rather than in the jeans and flannel.

Will kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to cower away from the distrusting eyes he passed, the comforting feel of the stream passing his legs with each wade forward towards the therapy room he would be meeting on the outside of the bars for once.

As the door was opened and Will sent through, he felt the suck of memory from being within the cold steel bars creeping up his spine, though the shift of the room’s look from the innocent’s perspective outside of the bars almost made him stumble down the stairs. Looking about the room, he was surprised to see the inmate he was there to see had not yet arrived, but one chair was sat facing the middle therapy cage.

Shrugging off his olive winter jacket over the back of the seat, Will approached the bars of the cage, hands wrapping around the bars. His own wrapped in response over his, the wild, dark eyes of his past self staring back into him in that moment. His darker self stared back at him, lips curling up on one side with the dark smile of a job well done, of the madness slowly taking over. The past him released one hold on the bar, hand reaching through to touch at his own face, hissing the words quietly “See you…”

The click of the doors at the far end of the room, the inmate’s end of the room started Will from the vision, hands still wrapped around the bars and frozen in the place he had lost himself. Taking two steps back towards the chair, hand touching the worn canvas of the jacket as he stood behind the wooden chair itself, Will could smell it the moment she entered the room in a waft of vanilla and chocolate as the breeze flowed from behind her.

He could see how free she was compared to his own experience in the place, how unaffected she was by the dank, and dark, and isolating nature of the clinical building.

Her hair was a matted birds nest around her face, the sharp edges hidden beneat the softness he knew her skin to be, as he knew she would not have been allowed a hairbrush since entering the FBI holding cells and then her transfer to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Her usually sunkissed glow was gone under the hard fluorescents of the therapy room and the lack of sunlight in the worn brick cells. She was further washed out by the navy jumpsuit that was required in the hospital, however the upperhalf of it was tied about her waist, showing off the skin of her arms, her neck, her clavicles, and scooped across her chest by the white wifebeater she wore underneath that his fingers twitched to reach for. To anyone else she may appear a mess, sallow and sickly; but he could see the reality this was exactly the misinterpretation she wanted projected around her.

He could see the way she barely reacted to the chains on her wrists and ankles, instead appearing at easy and playfully tugging and toying with the tied arms of the jumpsuit. She batted at the dark haired orderly that was leading her in, smiling widely at him as if playing. The orderly appeared to roll his eyes and hold tighter on the elbow in his grasp.

“Not so hard, hunny, don’t want to leave bruisin’ now…”

“Inappropriate commentary.”

“Fine, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

Will diverted his gaze as the pair walked to the cage, a small frown on his face as he rubbed the collar of his jacket rather than watch the bloody angel be locked up as he had been. There was the rattling of the cage’s gate, followed by the sliding sound of metal as the door was closed and the handcuffs removed. He found himself looking up as the orderly leant closer to the bars than his own memory reminded him they would, hands rubbing over the woman’s wrists for a moment longer than necessary before shooting Will an unidentifiable look. The stony look in the man’s bright blue eyes felt unsettling to him, as if the orderly could see right into his very mind.

Shaking his head slightly, Will shuffled his feet as the orderly moved back to stand against the wall behind the woman’s cage. The light streamed in from the window behind her, illuminating the nest of hair around her face like a halo as Joanna Harvelle stared across at him from her seat inside the white, rusty cage. She looked completely in control of the situation, legs crossed as she had the table top the last that he had seen her.

“Hey Will, missed you at the FBI.”

“I didn’t miss you.”

“Figured that you were behind the mirror, did you like my performance? That little psycho was so fuckin’ pissed off.”

“You mean Hannibal?” Will queried, pulling his assigned seat closer to her cage, well within the normal pissing range. His eyes darted behind the woman’s shoulder towards the orderly, however the other man didn’t respond to tell him to pull back away from the bars like the orderly’s used to. In fact, the orderly appeared to draw himself up straighter, as if his hackles were raised and glaring at Will like he was the threat in the room. “You were trying to upset him?”

“Not particularly, but it was fun to toy with him a bit. I didn’t like him last time I saw him, up close he’s even more..”

“Inhuman?”

The sound came again - that warm, rich, chocolatey laugh washing over him - as the woman shook her head. “I’d not call him that, he’s definitely just a human. Just a fuckin’ dark one.”

“Some would say that an apt description for you,” Will found himself replying, dragging his chair almost to the point he would touch the bars with his knees when he sat. Sinking into it, he leant forward, hand wrapping around the bars that separated them. “A fucking dark human.”

She laughed again, legs uncrossing as if his bloody angel’s wings were unfurling, as the blonde rose from ther bench to lean beside the bars near him. Will watched carefully, breath catching at the brush of her jumpsuit’s fabric against his knuckles. There was a sound, almost like a growl, from behind her but Will paid it no attention.

All of his attention was on the dark brown eyes staring down at him with a warmth from her laughter. His attention was on the dark shadow of himself he could see in the cage alongside her, the cold darkness of his past self’s eyes as they stared down at him behind her. The way the edges of reality and vision blurred in the streams of light from the large windows. Was the ghost of his past really there? The part of him he had been denying, the methodical, logical, cold and dark self that could match the darkness of her own. Was he really standing there, in his matching jumpsuit, hands trailing over the golden birds nest, down the pale flesh of her skin and arms, wrapped around her waist following the arms of her own suit? Was he trapped outside the cage, trapped inside the cage, or trapped inside her?

“Will? ….Will?”

The voice sounded close, as if he was standing over her and leaning into her. As if she was right beside him. His fingers were still around the bars, but to either side of her face as he’d risen to his feet again. He was staring down at her, the seven inches between them feeling closer as the empath found the dark version of himself smirking back at him before he blinked and it was gone. Blinking, Will found himself standing against the bars, one hand as close as they could to the woman’s face as she had taken a step back from the bars; the other was holding onto one of the sleeves of her jumpsuit, the fabric pulled taunt across the gap between them.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know..”

“Back from the bars!” The barked order from the dark haired man in white jerked Will back from the bars themselves, knocking the wooden chair and his jacket to the ground as he stumbled backwards. The orderly looked more threatening than the woman in the cage ever could, the glare almost as soulless and dark as the stag’s own. “Stay back from her, Will Graham.” His name sounded almost like a curse as he caught his footing.

“Is that really necessary?” The blonde questioned, sinking back onto the bench from where she has pressed up against it away from his grasping hand. Joanna appeared to relax as she turned to look at the orderly questioningly.

“Yes. Clearly.” The orderly snarled, arms crossed as he moved to stand beside the cage from against the wall.

Joanna laughed a little, though it sounded tighter than Will knew to be real, “Really really? Not like he’s goin’ to hurt me.”

“I don’t really bloody care right now.” The dark haired man hissed back, as Will noticed the man’s eyes did not move at all from where he was slowly getting himself back under control. “You’ve got one more minute, Mr. Graham, before we leave.”

“I’m sorry, I lost myself for a moment there. I’ll stay back, I promise.”

“See that you do.” The orderly remarked, edge in place as he moved back to his position by the wall. Will noticed the way the blonde’s head turned to follow him, an unreadably soft look on her face as she did so.

“So, we were talkin’ ‘bout the FBI… The interesting Mr. Lecter-” The blonde redirected the conversation at hand, legs crossed and hands poised holding onto each of her socked feet. She raised a brow at him as she spoke.

“Doctor. Dr. Lecter.”

“Ah, but he reacted so hilariously to being called Mr, didn’t he?” Joanna’s voice was filled with mirth again, the same smirk that had bloomed across her face in the interrogation room sparked across her now. “He’s not very good at understandin’ real people, is he? I’ve seen fake people do a much better job than he does. How he hasn’t been caught blows my mind.”

“He surrounds himself with people with unusual personalities and psyches. It’s hard to be seen as unusual by the unusual.” Will replied, resetting the chair again but not sitting.

Joanna raised her brow fully at his words. “And what about that lady doctor? She seemed very-”

“Dr. Alana Bloom is a very talented woman.”

“Very stupid you mean. Wasn’t a fan of playin’ nice with her particularly, but it bought time… And I got to play up the crazy a lil’ bit.” He found it odd how he did not react negatively to the slight against Alana. He would have fought the words from anyone else, or from anyone in the past, but hearing his angel speak seemed to set him free of that final shred of protectiveness. “She’s gotta be stupid.”

“How so?”

“ ‘A professional curiosity’ I think was the term she used…” The bloody grin was back, dark and full of danger, as the blonde looked back at him. Will froze at the term and the way she mimicked the woman’s voice almost flawlessly. “Or at least that’s what she said when we were left alone while that big bumblin’ boss went to go fetch you and the monster. Pretty stupid terms to hide behind - if she liked you she should have just said.”

“And if she didn’t?”

“Stupid. Like I said…”

Will could feel his heart in his throat at the simple phrasing, before the orderly approached him. The man appeared to glare for a moment at the cage, getting a shrug in response, before he held out the green jacket.

“Time’s up, Graham.”

“Yes, I guess, uh..”

“Time to go.” The dark haired man’s voice dropped a little, as if he was both speaking and whispering at the same time. A subtle shift in his pitch, but Will thought nothing of it as he nodded and pulled his coat on.

“Yes, time to go.” He heard himself parrot the words back, his eyes drawing away from the wide, cold blue ones in front of him to nod a final time at the caged bird. His caged angel, her wings clipped but not forgotten. Joanna appeared to look surprised, but only momentarilly as the orderly moved towards the cage. Will noticed the man forgot to clip her cuffs back into place before opening the cage door.

As Will began moving towards the visitor’s exit, he could hear the voices of the two in the quiet room despite the low, harsh tones.

“What on earth are you thinking, meeting with him again?!”

“Not really my choice to say no, hun.”

“You can still fight it! You have to stay away from him, he’s dangerous! You know he’s in love with you right?”

“Don’t be silly…”

“You know you know, Jo.”

Will frowned slightly as he left, the words ringing in his ears as he made his way along the cold corridors alone. The other orderly’s he passed all were one’s he had seen before and avoided his gaze as well. Not that he was looking at them. His eyes were still focussed on the image of her hair and the halo around her as she stood over him. His ears were still filled with the orderly’s words ‘you know he’s in love with you you know you know’ you know he’s in love with you you know you know you know he’s in love with you you know he’s in love with you know he’s in love with you…’ as he padded along the stone hallways.

As he reached the main doors to the building, pen in hand to sign his time out, he was shocked back to reality by the cane across his knuckles.

“Will Graham. Care for a cup of tea?”

---

"Please, sit. Make yourself at home.” Dr. Fredrick Chilton said, a hand waving towards the seats opposite the desk. As the administrator rounded his desk, sinking into the suple leather of his Chesterfield desk chair, the dark haired psychiatrist smiled smugly across at him. “Again.”

“This was never my home, Fredrick, just an unfortunate living arrangement.”

“Oh of course it wasn’t, I never intended to suggest-”

“Please, let’s not insult either of our intelligence.”

“Yes, you do think quite highly of yours, don’t you, Will?”

Will found himself holding back a sneer at the other’s comments, as he sat in the chair opposite the doctor. He had never enjoyed the psychoanalysis that the well-put together man had tried to apply to him - the unusual and unconvential methods, as well as the rudimentary at best interest to understand his psyche rather than just place a title upon him that Chilton chose already, not endearing the man or their time together to Will at all.

He could feel the twitch of his lips, that other self he saw in the cage, and sometimes in flashes in a mirror or the dark reflection of a black screen - the shining flat screen angled to face the both of them at once showing the sneer blooming across that Other Will’s face, eyes black and dark as it stared back at him - but forced the look to remain on the other’s and not his own.

“What do you make of my newest patient? I heard a rumour you were due to write the profile for her before now.”

“I’d much rather hear your thoughts, Fredrick, being the trained professional after all.”

“I may have said there was no word currently available to apply for yourself on the stand; however that is far more the truth for that woman.” Fredrick Chilton leaned back in his chair, the slight squeak of the oil-deprived springs at the movement sounding through the room as the TV screen flashed on. The inside of a cell, the blonde inmate laying on the lumpy mattress with her jumpsuit off and simply the wifebeater and underwear made Will’s eyes flash wider momentarially. The doctor smirked slightly, leaning forward in his chair again as he swivelled to look at the screen. “Truly a sight to behold in this facility, isn’t it?”

“I don’t recall you having any policy regarding clothing.”

“I have thought to implement one lately, but..” The smirk shifted almost into a leer as the dark haired doctor poked at the screen with one finger. “Some of the orderly’s may just object if I did, you see.”

Will could feel his teeth grinding together at the other’s words, leaning back in his own chair as if disinterested in the image upon the screen. From this angle he could see the dark reflection over the top of the grainy video feed, eyes black and mouth twisted into a fierce, disgusted snarl as if reacting to the other man’s words how Will would not allow himself to. The dark recesses of his mind reflected in the glass surface in a way that he did not yet feel comfortable acknowledging, comfortable accessing, comfortable being yet.

“Is your only observation to do with her clothes, Fredrick? Sounds like an ethics violation waiting to happen should the wrong person hear.”

“Of course not, just thought I would prepare you for the footage.” The psychiatrist let out a laugh as he turned away from the screen to look back at Will. “She speaks to herself in the cell frequently, showing clear signs of audiatory delusions and potential schitzophrenia. However in the same way, she has spoken at length regarding seeing monsters such as vampires and werewolves, and demons and angels. The judeo-christian overtones of her delusions suggests an openness to belief and faith, to seeing more in the world than there is-”

“A rather crude example-”

“Perhaps then you would appreciate more the elements of sociopathy demonstrated instead - she frequently attempts to manipulate the orderly’s and the conversations of her interviews to create a sense of empathy in her target. To create a false connection without any truth or genuine desire on her part.”

Will could see the reflection snarling at those words, the suggestion of them as Chilton took a sip from his coffee mug, eyes focussed back upon the fuzzy screen as Joanna Harvelle appeared to stand from her seat and the cell door slide open. The dark eyes of the reflection flashed, the woman’s face appearing within them as she stood and approached the door itself.

“Two appointments in one day?”

“What?”

“Is she due to have a second interview today?”

The pair stared in confusion at the screen as the woman appeared to bounce in position a few times, her hair bouncing in white waves about her on the greyscale screen. The cell door was fully opened, and Chilton frowned to himself as the dark haired orderly from earlier entered the cell.

The reflection’s look transformed into one of fury, Will finding his own expression drawing into a muted version of it as the imges continued. The woman’s arms went around the shoulders of the orderly, in a way completely unethical and inappropriate for a hospital employee to interact with a patient. His bloody angel was wrapped up in arms, and the pair’s heads tilted to one another before the screen froze and flickered to black.

The doctor hit at the screen twice before the picture returned, and with it a flurry of movement from the administrator to the telephone and clomping out of his office with the clink of his cane.

Will had seen the reflection, his dark past self snarling angrilly for a long moment in that black screen, before it was swallowed up by the image of the empty cell. His angel gone again from his grasp, vanishing somewhere in the blackness of the seconds, disappearing from within his eyes.

[awitnesstocorruption]

And to abstract from the level of deciding whether one associates masculinity proper with vehicles or not or any other such question in theory even the choice between, for instance, Pink & Blue. If one lived in a society in which the masculine is associated with pink and flowery designs, then that IS the masculine for that tribe of peoples. And one assumes that the selection is made of the color at some authoritative level in that culture involving both men and women or perhaps women only because its assumed to involve clothing.

And so OBJECTIVELY , with some assumptions, one can infer some aspects of personality and also an understanding of the masculinity of a father of a boy. And perhaps the reason that despite having a father, a boy might misdevelop.

For the sake of example, Ill cite media representations of fatherhood but gay defective fatherhood. I believe the dialogue prewritten in one case certainly because it was a "realistic" pornography video themed on a disciplinary spanking.

The actor was playing the role of a father punishing his teen son for misbehaving. And besides the graphic visuals of the punishment which was gay. The verbiage was about the father forbidding the 13 or 14 yrs old declared teen (per the pre recorded dialogue) from having new underwear bought for him in the form of Boxer shorts. Apparently the story was that the boy was teased and mocked and asked his mother to buy him boxers but the father intervened and forbade the purchase over discipline. Later he would again emphasize the importance of the issue to him (and Im watching this wondering wtf, because the voice of the father figure sounded so virtuous and smooth, but it was yucky gayness because the visuals were a sub 18 yrs old with an erection over this mans knees talking to him about underwear. And then I remembered the virtue issue, the fake will resemble a women

The other instance was a weird one, but what the scenario displayed was the intentional victimization of a sons self esteem and confidence with respect to what seemed to be unreasonable expectations placed upon him by the father. And I wondered where the motive and behavior came from. Because I had noticed what I thought was selfish insincere gifting for the sake of reputation and image and on and on. But my observation wont be condemnatory; I was disabled to the point of not being able to be a father, psychologically sociologically and physically unable to marry; however if I had a child, especially a male to raise, I would try to send him to boarding school. Or find relatives or friends who would be able to provide that social aspect. Forgive me for not varing much , but that actress from Halloween who declared her adopted was trans. To me the real annoouncement was that her husbands identity as a male able to act as a father was in question

[transgenderer]

hmm, i dont think the monkeys got sick? they just got behaviorally misdeveloped

does anyone know if theres real science behind the idea that babies will die if touched? i feel like ive seen this stated by a bunch of people, i can find a bunch of people saying it online but it doesnt seem to lead back to anything solid? the closest thing is the romanian orphans, but it doesnt seem like anyone actually conclusively tied that to touch and other effects seem more probable

[izatrini]

Floodwaters, People Power and the Legacy of Misdevelopment

* Floodwaters, People Power and the Legacy of Misdevelopment  Trinidad and Tobago News (blog) * Kamla on Beetham flood bath incident: I don't support violence  Loop News Trinidad and Tobago Full coverage http://dlvr.it/QgPsvt #trinidadandtobago

[ask-sunguard]

Why is Uri such a little bitch -lin

Because he was unfairly forced at a young age to be an adult so his bitchiness has to do with his misdevelopment as an individual.

[awitnesstocorruption]

Found a new opinion essay in the NYTimes by a lady named Ruth Whippman who is a mother of three boys and is in process of writing a book on raising boys. It sounds pretty exciting to me Im happy to say because I love reading the opinions of others on subjects which interest me. Her essay is observant of the tendency to raise boys in a way that focuses them on objects rather than other people. She mentions vehicles of different types as the continuing thematic of her boys childhood, but also mentions the existence of books for boys which are relatively new and are masculine but person focused.

For me, theres an underlying human nature which is best observed by parents otherwise kids end up misdeveloped and unhappy. Despite the Rainbow using the word "gay" for its purposes, I would suggest theres not much joy in self pity based sexuality.

Im not a parent, but I ask myself often about scenarios imagined or remembered. As a young boy I loved the fiction of Frank Baum author of The Wizard of Oz and I read a number of books in that series and got so much pleasure. I really wasnt a "car" person at all, but when very young I did have "Hot Wheels" cars to play with. And as an Amateur Theorist I dont think that I would be concerned so much with only approving gender appropriate toys and books; whats really important is a relationship with a male authority figure who the child can respect and trust. Im my scenario, I was aware of my over feminization because it was declared out in the open and I was ashamed but I just kept it low key. Realize there wasnt a way I could create a father figure and my next youngest step brother also didnt have a father; my mother had a kid from a married man who never claimed my step brother. So the other bad way that not having a father figure when I was young affected me was in the personality aspect of perfectionism; I remember coming home from perhaps first or second grade with an assignment paper which didnt earn a "Star" or Happy Face and so after I got off of the school bus near home, I threw the non perfect paper away so that I wouldnt feel the shame of imperfection when I gave the paper to my mother.

[kali-tmblr]

You make a good point about Elm being an misdeveloped version of Yang. You could also say that Harriet was an misdeveloped version of Ruby, Vine was a misdeveloped version of Weiss, Marrow was misdeveloped version of Blake, and Clover was a misdeveloped version of Qrow.

But Marrow can't afford to betray Ironwood, however much he wants to. Marrow is the glass ceiling-breaker lifted up on the backs of years, probably generations of hard work by the Atlesian Faunus community. He can't afford to be less than a paragon of loyalty to Atlas in order to "do what's right for the Faunus".

This might be a bit of a cheat, but if you're still doing the character asks, how about Ironwood's secret police, individually and/or as a whole?

sure, i’ll do that before i go to work this morning 

clover ebi, the big boss guy 

How I feel about this character

clover frustrates me. not really from a writing standpoint, but from a personal standpoint. he’s a realistic view of what someone who was born with every privilege and then ended up becoming highly skilled and dedicating himself to a bad government might look like. 

rwby doesn’t really seem to have “gods”, but clover seems to think that because he’s been blessed it gives him and his views a kind of divine right. he’s charming, and when he’s on your side he’s a good ally- but like with qrow, he’s not going to do any self-reflection for you. what you see is what you get. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

nothing long-term, but i like the idea of him having a disaster of a relationship with qrow that qrow is embarrassed about later

My non-romantic OTP for this character

more of that tension with robyn, please

My unpopular opinion about this character

i have been told that not thinking clover deserved better is an unpopular opinion 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

uh. he could have flirted with qrow another time or two. qrow’s cute when he’s flustered 

vine

How I feel about this character

no strong opinions about this guy, but i like his design

All the people I ship romantically with this character

no one, thanks

My non-romantic OTP for this character

i like watching the ace ops just be colleagues because it disturbs the kids so much 

My unpopular opinion about this character

uh.... no idea of fanon on this guy 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

could have seen more of him 

elm 

How I feel about this character

i like her design and her fighting style! i think that it’s a great inverse of yang 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

eh

My non-romantic OTP for this character

again, ace ops being colleagues 

My unpopular opinion about this character

she DOES seem like she throws the temper tantrums that yang’s dad talked about her semblance being. “you BETRAYED US!” uh... they lived in atlas for like, two weeks, jan. they didn’t sign a blood oath with you 

it kind of reminds me of a dark version of yang, though. one who never got to the point where she was able to look at other people’s possible motives

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

nothing, tbh. i got what i needed from her 

harriet 

How I feel about this character

i like harriet’s design and semblance, but she realllllyy pisses me off. whereas i find some of the other aces charming on the surface level, other than my gay brain going “hoT” there’s nothing i like about harriet beyond her one interaction with ruby about not having a straight up speed semblance 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

nah

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ruby, since i liked that interaction and think a little more mentoring would have helped some 

My unpopular opinion about this character

Again, no idea on fandom conscience on the this gal

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

a little more with ruby 

marrow!

How I feel about this character

the only ace op that i really like! marrow is a compassionate guy who has ended up on the wrong side of a conflict, just like blake or ilia. i think that he’s going to realize later that this is the case and break from it just like they did 

i also LOVE this semblance

All the people I ship romantically with this character

i saw that some people ship him with may marigold from that one interaction, and i’m down for that 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ilia! let them meet please 

My unpopular opinion about this character

uh, is “i want him to be a happy huntress” an unpopular opinion? 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

let! him! change! sides! i’m really hoping he helps get robyn and qrow out of jail