#and i fluctuate wildly between them

[yellowhollyhock]

i have only two tagging modes:

1) bare bones, minimal description to (hypothetically) be able to find the post later, sometimes less

2) more than half the post is in the tags

[crimeronan]

the answers on that poll are already SO INTERESTING despite it only having been up for 10 minutes. thank u all for indulging my curiosity.

[lilacponds]

lays down..................... i want to smooch some robots

[erythristicbones]

.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

I'm not into Batman or comics at all, but I feel like there's a real and tangible difference between saying you have to engage with The Hunger Games to get Katniss Everdeen and saying you have to engage with comics to get a comic book character. The Hunger Games is a completed series of books that can be read in an attainable amount of time, and the characterization is easy to understand and consistent because it was all written by one person. Most media was written by one person or team of people and therefore has a certain level of consistency. Even if there was a reboot of The Hunger Games, it would either be characterized very similarly to the first one in which case the distinction would be irrelevant or the fans of the original and the fans of the reboot would be totally distinct fandoms and bodies.

Comics are almost completely unique in that any given run could have been written by almost anyone and characterization fluctuates wildly between runs. That person cited a specific run to read to understand Cassandra Cain, but there are probably dozens, maybe even hundreds of other series that deal with the character very differently and all of them have the same authority as canon. Saying that one is the best one is just another type of fanon, where the fans decide what the best representation of the character is -- or maybe that's the first one she appeared in (?) in which case there's some merit to adhering to the original version of the character, but it's still a community choosing to ignore a lot of canon material in favor of a preferred interpretation.

The closest equivalent to the way comics are produced today is, like, Arthurian legend and ancient Greek tales of the gods and heroes. These stories were made up by hundreds, maybe thousands of people over the years -- are still being made up in some cases -- and any individual's characterization fluctuates wildly between them. There are preferred versions and compilations of these old stories, but people aren't generally judged for liking to talk about the widespread cultural understanding of them, rather than citing a specific ancient Greek playwright or Shakespeare adaptation that they're adhering to and basing all their headcanons off of.

I wish you'd put your name to this, because it's a good take.

[tavyliasin]

Disability Pride Essays - Gale, Neurodivergency, and Chronic Illnesses

The third of the disability parallel essays is going to focus on everyone’s favourite wizard, the legend of Waterdeep, Gale Dekarios. Immediately I can hear the neurodivergent (ND) side of fandom sitting up and pointing at the screen: “He’s like me!” and you’re absolutely right, but there is even more to him than this too! Gale can arguably represent several chronic physical conditions as well as being the chosen of the god of Autism. Sorry, god of Magic. Both? It’s probably both, isn’t it…

So with this in mind we will be discussing neurodiversity as well as long term chronic conditions and “spoon theory” (don’t worry if you don’t know what that is yet, we’re going to go over it along with “spell slot theory” in a way that might help abled people understand how many of us manage long term illness). I may also touch on the plot point around the Orb and Gale’s fluctuating relationship with his will to live, as well as the desperation to find a cure - so please be aware that if these are things you may find to be triggering. As always, look after yourselves and each other first and foremost. And, of course, your input and thoughts on these topics are more than welcome!

What is Gale’s Disability?

Gale has several conditions that we can see affecting him in the game. Whilst “armchair diagnosis” of real people can be a harmful exercise, and not something we would usually encourage, when we look at him and his behaviours it is easy to see a lot of traits common in Neurodivergent people. So this can mean Autism Spectrum Disorders as well as ADD/ADHD traits, though as anyone with either (or both) diagnosis will likely tell you, these can vary wildly from person to person. The same diagnosis can present completely differently between two people, so we will be looking at specific traits rather than an overall diagnosis for Gale. A more subtle thing shown with Gale is some joint pain, stiffness - he will complain about his knees aching when rain is due, and generally casually describes a lot of aches and pains that are common with ageing as well as in chronic conditions that affect joints. This is potentially easily missed as it’s in just a few lines of dialogue here and there and some background conversation, but we can see it sometimes too in how he moves and reacts. And then, of course, there is the Netherese Orb… One not quite so fun little fact here too is that in the real world there can be a lot of overlap between chronic pain conditions and neurodiversity. Not necessarily causative, and there’s no strongly established link that I’m aware of, but it isn’t uncommon at all to come across in disabled and ND communities. I’m sure more research can be done into specific genetic conditions that may have a stronger and potentially causative link to them, but that would be going too far down the wrong rabbithole for now. Did I mention I have ADHD? What do you mean “obviously”?...

How Do We See The Disability In The Game?

With Neurodiversity, a lot of the “problem” from the condition does not actually come from the person themselves but in how the world and people around them react to them and their behaviours. We can see this in the player base, where some people just cannot stand Gale’s infodumping or talking in depth about his special interests in magic, or how they find some of his personality and interactions to be more frustrating than endearing. There’s also how he was treated by Mystra - if we remove the relationship and abusive part of that for now, he went from being a gifted student, a prodigy in his field, to being rejected and cut loose from that validation.

Plenty of players found they disliked Gale, that his romantic advances and compliments to them were unwelcome and “too much”. In terms of Neurodiversity, Gale is expressing himself relatively openly with his feelings, and could potentially be seen as attaching to the player on a deeper level as a “favourite person” which can be a trait for some. Of course this was changed in the game to a degree after some backlash from those who weren’t keen on him expressing romantic interest after very little interaction, but not all of that is gone from his interactions or the speed with which he forms a strong attachment to someone he trusts. Then there is his “specialised diet”, which in this case is that need to consume magic objects. Honestly there are several ways we can look at this one. From a more literal point of view, we can consider him as literally eating the items like a food source which might be akin to people desiring to eat non-food items. It could also be similar to having “safe foods” which are things that have familiar flavours and textures. However the theory I find most interesting around the “consumption” of magic items is thinking of it more as medicinal.

Either way, Gale needs regular “doses” of the “cure” to stave off some very visceral symptoms. We not only see the relief when he is able to take the “cure” by consuming the item, but we also see the pain and struggle if too much time is left between “doses”. It’s shown in his character model, how he holds himself, you can hear it in his voice breaking as he’s overwhelmed by the symptoms of the Karsite Weave trying to eat away at him. If he doesn’t find any help from the player, too, he will simply leave to find his own solution. There isn’t a choice to just “ignore it and it will go away” - much like any serious illness it needs to be treated or it will get worse.

How Does This Reflect Real Life?

The real life reflections of Neurodivergency are quite easy to see for those of us familiar with those feelings and behaviour patterns. I could spend a while going over them, but then in my experience the fans who are deep enough into the fandom to be reading an essay of this length dissecting the character and the nuances of him…well, if you’re still reading and you’re neurotypical then I will be a little surprised. I mean this in a lighthearted way, of course, I’m sure there are a good number of neurotypical fans and those interested in this kind of topic (in fact it would be lovely for more NT people to spend a little time listening and learning when possible) but there is a very strong correlation between those of us who are ND and having a hyperfixation on one topic. A little like Gale’s hyperfixation on magic and learning everything about it, even to his detriment. It’s a special interest - he could never be satisfied just knowing most things about magic, he needed to know everything. That’s how he ended up in the situation with the Netherese Orb - he found a problem and became quite fixated and determined to solve it. That’s what problems are for, after all, to be solved. And he did it all with good intention, hope, and unfortunately without thinking through the greater consequences either. The single-minded devotion to a task, without seeing the bigger picture, can be a boon as much as it is a curse to ND people. The pain is also one that will feel familiar to people in the real world - whether through age or chronic conditions, this can often be affected by things like the weather and changes in temperature and air pressure. We need more rest, we complain casually, we make small pained noises when we move, and we adjust our actions to fit our needs. In some ways, we could see Gale’s need for magical items to stave off the condition the Orb gives him is like a need for insulin or similar long term medicines. It’s not optional and the consequences of putting it off - or avoiding it entirely - can be dangerous or even deadly. The way he feels around the outcome there could also be similar. Whilst in the real world someone isn’t going to just explode and take out a 10 mile radius with them if they don’t get their medication in time, if they were to pass away then the loss would be felt keenly amongst those around them, leaving an impact on their loved ones. 

Neurodiversity

There is just so much we can say about neurodiversity, but rather than dissecting it piece by piece I think it might be better to take this opportunity to reflect on how meaningful and validating it can be to see these traits in characters we love. These aren’t things that are shown to be flaws or undesirable, simply a part of the entire personality of the character - connecting can really just be, well, validating. That’s the thing with representation. It’s not about making a huge fanfare over every little thing, it’s integrating characters and character traits naturally and treating them normally - the way that we would rather like it if the real world around us might do. It’s also a way to learn to love ourselves through the love of the character - to think something like “I adore listening to him ramble on about his favourite topic” and perhaps feel a little less self-conscious when we ourselves talk more in depth over a hyperfixation or special interest. Something like, oh I don’t know, writing a long series of essays about subtle disability representation in a popular video game…

Chronic Illness and Spell Slots

This is where it gets interesting with the comparison to game mechanics. An old theory that people have used to describe the long term impact of chronic illness is “spoon theory”. Spoon Theory was a way that a chronically ill person described their energy levels to a friend to help them understand more clearly how we have different limits. So the idea is at the start of a day, you have a certain amount of “spoons”. Every task in the day requires one of these spoons to be used - that might be going to the shop to buy food, taking a shower, going to work, socialising with someone, making an important phone call, or even something as simple as getting dressed. You have to be careful where you use those spoons, because once they’re all gone, that’s it. No more. You can’t just get more from nowhere, and if you try to borrow one of tomorrow’s spoons you’ll have even less for that next day. A newer and far more accurate comparison, at least in my opinion, is spell slots. So different tasks are like different spells, and might take a certain level of spell slot to complete.

Easy tasks we can repeat a lot without trouble, like perhaps talking to a friend online or taking a nap, those are like cantrips. We can do them whenever we need to. Small tasks might be a level 1 or 2 spell slot, which we have more of, but a large task that is very tiring and/or causes a lot of pain need a level 5 spell slot. And there’s the trick - you can spend your level 5 slot on a lower level task, potentially doing more than you might usually do with that task, but you can’t spend a level 2 slot on a level 5 task. 

There’s no way to refresh those spell slots without adequate rest, too. In the tabletop version of D&D if you’re suffering levels of exhaustion or don’t get the right amount of uninterrupted rest, you won’t get back all of your spell slots. Which is quite accurate to real life, where not getting what you need means you may not be fully refreshed and replenished for the new day either. 

When we talk about chronic illness too, depending on the person there might well be things that would be cantrips for other people - things that don’t feel like they expend any real energy at all to do - which take a whole spell slot for us. Having a shower might make an abled person feel refreshed and energised, but someone with a chronic illness might instead feel drained and tired after expending that energy. This can apply to both physical tasks and mental or social energy too. People who are introverted will likely understand when I say that for some of us it takes away our energy to socialise with others and we need time alone doing our own thing to recover some of that. Extroverts might find this strange, as they more often feel like a positive social interaction is energising to them and gives them a real boost.

So there you have it, spell slots! A way that might make it easier to explain how tasks take energy, and how we’re simply not able to conjure more energy out of thin air.

The Cure and The Desperation

I’ll preface this section straight away with a very simple part - most neurodiversity neither wants nor needs a cure. What’s needed is understanding and adaptation, patience and compassion to work with what the individual needs in order to succeed. Child has a special interest? Let them indulge that passion and learn all they can about it, that might become their career or long term hobby later in life and bring them a great deal of happiness and satisfaction. This section, when we’re talking about a cure, it’s for those chronic conditions that cause suffering. The parallel being how Gale researches and is willing to trade anything to end the agony that the Orb causes him. He’s ready to throw his whole life away because the torment is too much, until another option becomes available. Even when there are other choices, he’s still willing to detonate, potentially because he feels he has become a hindrance or a burden to those he loves. This…honestly this is something that those with complex and/or long term care needs can struggle with. It is hard not to feel like a burden when you need someone else to take care of menial every day tasks on your behalf, or need to keep asking for aid from those around you.  That’s where the right support is absolutely vital. In those lower times, to remember in ourselves and sometimes to hear from others that they choose to care for us and that there is more we bring to the world. That our worth is not tied to what we can and cannot do, but instead in who we are and what our presence means to those who love us as we are.

It’s something we don’t always talk about, even within disabled communities, because these are deep and difficult feelings within ourselves and we don’t want to inadvertently cause more upset in those who are struggling or have been affected by loss of this kind. So to see that reflected too, the sorrow, the struggle, those very heartfelt and genuine conversations with Gale as he weighs up his options…that’s important to recognise too. Particularly for abled people to try to understand the depth and complexity of our feelings around the exhaustion of dealing with an illness that never goes away - we want to live, but sometimes we feel the weight of that struggle burying the will to keep fighting it. Even if the condition itself is stable, not degenerative, and not deadly, it is still a burden to ourselves. 

What We Can Learn From Gale’s Story

Gale’s parallels to disability are complex, but there’s a lot worth learning from it. Whether it is about fully loving someone’s eccentricities and neurodivergent traits, or learning to understand chronic health through the lens of spell slots, it’s important to know more about ourselves and those around us. For Gale, I see so much of people finding him to be a comfort - “he’s like me”, “I can relate to him” - and that’s what we need. Of course not every person playing the game will feel a connection to him, or even like him as a character, but he is there and to a lot of us he has been an important and meaningful influence through his story. We can also look at the different ways his story can end - several options all quite drastically removed from each other. The ambition is a cautionary tale, the temptation of a “simple fix” is another when the crown can arguably lead to worse endings either under Mystra or losing sight of the better parts of himself beneath the allure of power and godhood. I could probably ramble on for another thousand or so words, but I’ll leave it here for now, with that reflection on everything he can mean to different people and disabilities.

Remember to be kind to yourself, and allow proper recovery of your spell slots before you try to spend levels you don’t have available.

[topazadine]

Writing Notes: Seasons

I noticed a few leaves falling from my tree, which means only one thing: it's time.

Time for fall. My favorite, blessed, most beloved season. Pumpkin spice lattes! Candy apples! Cherry pie! Haunted houses! Chilly weather that makes me snuggle up into my hoodie! Candy!

And, of course, it means that I have to share some writing notes with you about seasons.

So today, we're going to share a few different perspectives on seasons. We'll talk about the "traditionally accepted" associations for seasons, but also share other options and how you can infuse them into your work.

Why Use Seasons at All?

You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe you want to focus entirely on the plot. But, you might add some hints of it for these reasons.

Gives a sense of place. This allows you to show how this place is impacted by particular seasons. Winter in Kampala, Uganda, is going to be wildly different than in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Offers worldbuilding options. In a fantasy setting, seasons are an element of worldbuilding. (Just look at Game of Thrones.) There may be different dangers according to seasons, or unique holidays that can allow you to demonstrate how people interact with this world. Provides templates for description. You can get a lot of mileage out of showing a nice grassy field in spring or the leaves fluttering down during autumn. Don't go on for ages, but you can certainly add a few little flickers here and there. (just remember to put them in the right places for maximum momentum.) Deepens characterization. How characters feel about and interact with the seasons can tell us a lot about who they are. Someone who loves winter could love it because then they can ski, or because they want to cuddle up and be left alone. Someone who loves summer might like lounging around on the porch eating ice cream, or they might like it because it's time to go surfing! Suggests new challenges. If your character lives in Montana, winter is going to be horribly cruel. "The Hunter's Wife" by Anthony Doerr is all about how the seasons challenge the characters and help them grow. But in your story, it might be summer that's the worst. Or fall, or spring, or all of them but in different ways. Creates subtle symbolism. The season of your story can use certain symbolism depending on what kind of plot you have and what your overall theme is, as we'll discuss now.

So, now that we understand why seasons are important, let's look at each one and consider why it might be the best time for your story.

I will note that I am coming from the perspective as a person in the Midwestern United States. What I associate with the seasons, particularly the descriptions, may be utterly irrelevant to you depending on where you are from. If I made a wholly comprehensive list considering the entire world, we'd be here all day.

Keep that in mind and workshop some options for your setting and personal associations.

I'm not omniscient, so take what seems useful to you and leave the rest.

Spring

Ah, the flowers are blooming, the world is warming up, and we're finally crawling out of doors now that we're not buried in slush. Spring is generally associated with positive emotions, but there could be some dangers here, too.

To get some good symbolism, focus on spring's unique place between two fixed, more stable seasons, where we know what to expect: winter and summer.

There is a fragility and shifting balance in spring that can veer good or bad depending on what you're trying to show. Spring also has a sense of expectation, which can pay off (good summer) or fail (icky bad summer).

Associations

Positive

Warmth

Renewal

Hope

Rebirth

Childhood

Innocence

Potential

Change

New beginnings

Reunions

Optimism

Negative

Fluctuating emotions (spring can be quite unpredictable!)

New challenges on the horizon

Feeling exposed

"Nakedness"

Vulnerability

Growing pains

Feeling underappreciated, like a stepping stone to summer

Ferocity (like intense spring storms)

The fragility of life (not every baby animal will survive)

Descriptions

Positive

Wildflowers pushing through the soil

Baby animals

Trees blooming

New blades of grass

Budding leaves

Sunny skies

Life-affirming rain

Warming breezes

Slightly chilly nights

Weak sunrises

Days growing longer

Richly scented flowers

Negative

Sudden cold snaps

Dreary weather

Grey skies

Hard rain that traps one inside

Snow (a reminder of the past)

Flooding

Melting snow revealing last year's trash

Cold mornings

Shivering

Being too hot or too cold

Hard ground

Mud

Summer

Summer fun! Those lucky enough to live by a beach want to splash in the water or go kayaking above the cool waves. We can drink an ice cold soda as we head to outdoor festivals. Kissing as the summer frogs sing a chorus, or partying late into the night: how beautiful!

But summer can be awful, too. Too much beer at a festival and you throw up everywhere, or too much humidity and you die of heatstroke. There's a reason that gun violence goes up when it's hotter: people are pissy and itching for a fight.

There can be a great push-pull here as characters attempt to moderate themselves while also indulging their sense of adventure.

Associations

Positive

Adventure

Childhood

Freedom

Exploration

Warmth

Togetherness

Community spirit

Serendipitous meetings

Happiness

A sense of endlessness (longer daylight hours)

Puppy love

Negative

Long agonizing waits (again, longer daylight hours)

Exhaustion

Overwhelm

Oppression (sociological or environmental)

Excess

Sloth (if characters like to lounge)

Lack of control

Rage

Frustration

Disappointment

Descriptions

Positive

Droning insects

Fireflies (depending on area)

Warmth

Blue skies

Bright green leaves

Active wildlife

Butterflies

Cool drinks

Unexpected cool breezes

Fresh fruit

Whirring fan

Outdoor music

Sunshine

Beautiful sunsets

Negative

Loud, cramped festivals

High humidity

Extreme heat

Dehydration

Glaring sunlight with no shelter

Tornadoes/summer storms

Mosquitos

Broken fan

Sweating

Baking trash (ugh sorry)

Sore joints from the humidity

Spoiled/soggy food

Flat fizzy drinks

Autumn

Okay, I'll try not to be too biased here, so I'll point out that autumn can be both beautiful and terrible. On one hand, we've got the cooler weather, the gorgeous foliage, and the contentment of harvest time: a job well done, and a time to rest.

Many people feel like this is when they are closest to their past loved ones and can commune with those long gone, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. It's a good time for when someone is putting their demons to rest and moving on.

We can also feel cold, dread, and fear during autumn. The nights are getting longer, and there could be all sorts of scary things in the shadows. They, too, are gearing up for the freezing winter months - and they're hungry.

Associations

Positive

Maturity

Adulthood

Rest

Slowing down

Introspection

Thinning of the veil (Halloween)

Spirituality

Retrospection

Harvest and bounty

Change

Reflection

Negative

Fear

Dread

Decay

Lost opportunities

Dwindling time

Anxiety

Limitations

Closer to the end

Feeling one's age

The unknown

Breaking down

Past coming back to haunt one

Descriptions

Positive

Falling leaves

Brisk wind

Crackling campfires

Warm drinks

Busy animals

Frost sparkling on grass

Seeing your breath in the air

Freshly baked pie

Crisp apples

Decorative pumpkins

Cozy hoodies/cloaks

Mulled wine and spices

Harvested grain

Baked bread

Sudden warm days

Negative

Fog shrouded, isolated roads

Creeping cold

Howling animals

Dark nights

Rotting fruit

Bitter wind through cracks in the house

Cold rain

Spoiled grain

Meager harvest

Insufficient clothing

Dead creatures

Skeletons

Icy mist

Barren trees

Creaking houses

Winter

Winter gets the short end of the stick when it comes to symbolism. People focus on the horrible things (cold, loss, sadness) without considering the positives: family, togetherness, comfy mittens, warm hot chocolate and presents.

After all, humans have developed our very own symbolism just to cheer the time up; winter celebrations happen all around the world. You've got so many options here, both in terms of themes, activities, and descriptions. What you focus on will determine how your story feels.

Associations

Positive

Togetherness

Community

Family

Resilience

Perserverence

Joy and whimsy

Caring for others

Possibilities

Planning

Companionship (or solitude)

Optimism

Pushing one's limits

Quietude

Introspection

Better days ahead

Negative

Cold

Nature's fury

Helplessness

Poverty (in any form)

Feeling trapped

Unpleasant relatives

Death

Old age

Broken relationships

Barrenness

Struggle

Endings

Sorrow

Lack of empathy

Hatred

Descriptions

Positive

Roaring fires

Soft heavy blankets

Thick socks

Cozy mittens

Jams and jellies

Hot drinks

Presents

Winter decorations

Christmas cookies

Candles

Softly drifting snow

Clear night skies

Conversations in another room

Clinking glasses

Mulled cider

The contrast between chilly room and warm blanket

Dead quiet nights

Negative

Freezing cold

Driving snow

Stuck in big snow drifts

Tense muscles

Dry skin

Running nose

Barren cupboards

Tense conversations with distant relatives

Frozen hands

Harsh wind

Stuffy rooms

Cold floors

Animals scratching at the door

Lack of ventilation

Can't get warm

Shivering

So there are my thoughts on the seasons! Hopefully this sparked something for you.

Now, perhaps, you will consider reading my book (now cheaper than ever!)

9 Years Yearning is a whirlwind look at two men growing up and finding themselves - and each other, wink wink. It features Uileac, an orphan determined to protect his little sister and become the best soldier he can be. However, this is complicated by Orrinir, a blustery young man whose bravado hides a surprisingly sensitive heart. In just under 34k words, they experience the whole range of human emotions - and beat a few people up. Ooh la la.

If you do decide to read 9 Years Yearning, don't forget to leave a review!

It can even be a bad review if you want. Amazon uses ratings of all shapes and sizes to determine whether a book is worth getting shown to other potential readers.

Lack of reviews = Jeff Bezos breaks my door down with a baseball bat and drags me to the Hell Sphere.

So please, I have dogs that want their snackies. For $2 and a few nice words, YOU can help buy this small child her favorite treat (bully sticks).

[mychlapci]

Oh no the merformers thing is so interesting to me too... I do be clogging your inbox <:3

Sides and Sunny are like fighting/betta fish to me. Beautiful vibrant and striking colours, but highly aggressive and territorial. They have different tail types tho, Sideswipe maybe a crowntail or plakat, Sunstreaker is maybe a halfmoon

Mers like them are illegally held for their looks and fighting rings. They fetch a hefty sum at auctions

I think the twins are exchanged through many hands. Their physical conditions fluctuate wildly between seasons too. When they fight, they are well fed, but constantly injured, fins torn, plating cracked. On off seasons they are neglected, left to waste away and their colours fade. When the time comes for them to be sold, that is when they are treated best. They have to be healthy and properly nutritoined so their colours are as vibrant as can be.

All of this means they learn to trust no one. No one really cares for them. Just because someone is kind doesn't mean they will be tomorrow. Always bite the hand that feeds you, for tomorrow that hand will also literally throw you to the sharks

When the fighting ring they are held at is finally raided, obviously they don't know what happened. There's noise. There's shouting. Screaming. Energon is spilt. And then they are captured. Separated.

All the mers that are rescued and brought to a facility are kept in separate tanks obviously. They are all in various states of injury and sickness. They need to be quarantined and specially cared for. They are also understandably violent and are not fit for socialisation.

So when the twins wake up and can't find each other they go ballistic

Sideswipe bangs on the glass with his servos, shrieking and roaring at the bot that stands before him, just watching him. The black and white mech, annoyingly, doesn't even flinch. His appendages (fins?) on his back twitch at every bang on the glass, but there is no reaction otherwise. The mech seems to write something on a datapad and walks away, Sideswipe still threatening him from behind the glass.

Sunstreaker bares his long fangs and drags his claws along his glass. He's usually so careful about his beautiful claws, keeping them sharp and lustrous despite using them to tear his foes to shreds. But not right now. Now he pays no heed to his talons chipping on the hard glass as he snarls at the mech observing him. Black and white. Cold optics. Not a word from him when he walked over, and not a word as he leaves. Sunny doesn't care who that mech is but he wants to know what they did to his brother

Prowl is not quite a caretaker. He doesn't physically care for these rescued mers. But he coordinates. He oversees their care and watches them. He notes the health and behaviour of each mer and instructs their care. He notes the new red and yellow mers likely require sedatives so they do not hurt themselves. It's always a shame to see the states of the rescued mers that are brought in. But he's used to it now, it no longer tugs painfully at his spark to see them like this.

I don't actually know where this is going gjdhshd I just got carried away with the idea of it tbh. But eventually Prowl will notice something is not right with these two. As the other mers start to recover, these two do not. They remain violent, angry. No one is able to perform any physical checks on them without sedation. The way they throw themselves at the glass is hurting them. Prowl is the only one with senses keen enough to pick up on the way their fins twitch at every sound, the way their optics are always darting, but not in fear or paranoia. The way they seem to be looking for something rather than being driven by pure rage.

He knows something is missing from their tanks, but no one is able to figure out what since no one can even get near. One night, once he's clocked out, he's foolish enough to approach one of the tanks from above. No one is allowed up there, and for good reason. But maybe there is something he missed. He has seen everything there is to see from the outside, from the cameras, they must be missing something- And that's when a claw-tipped servo digs into his ankle and drags him into the water

He struggles and kicks and only barely makes it out with his spark. He's fished out of the water by other staff that thankfully had not left. A long and deep gash from the red mers claws stretches all the way from his optic, across his faceplate, and down his front. A chunk of his doorwing is bitten off

He only returns to the facility a few days later (much to the chagrin of literally everyone telling him to rest). He's no longer leaking energon, but not enough time has passed for him to be properly repaired. The painful claw marks and missing plating are still there. And he finally gets a different response from the yellow mer when it sees him

Sunstreaker recognises that attack pattern. The marks left behind from bites and scratches like that. His brother is alive

oh god this is amazing. i love all of this. normally i'd wait until i know what to say but then i'd just keep this ask forever.

i love the thought of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe not recovering at all, constantly on edge and aggressive and unresponsive to any of the research staff or other mers, constantly self-destructing against the glass of the tank, lashing out on the staff even though they know they'll be prodded and sedated.

when Prowl brings the claws from Sideswipe's attack to Sunstreaker, everything changes. The mer stops scratching at the glass and just... watches him, following around as Prowl walks, twisting his tail because he needs him to tell him where his brother was taken. Perhaps he curses and hits the glass a couple times, knowing the bot can't hear him and wouldn't have been able to understand him either, but he has to drag the information out of him somehow.

oh lord, i wonder how long it takes the staff to find out that they've separated co-dependent twins.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #68

Today was a very mixed bag.

This morning, I drove to the good place with all the nice people. The leader spoke on a great many very relevant things, such as challenging the status quo, distinguishing between that which is law and that which is just, and sitting with and trying to help all of the people whom society has tried to convinced us doesn't deserve it. The grammar and structure of the words has since crumbled and faded away from my mind, because I don't think in language at all, but the meaning remains in my mind, as well as the memory of the tears that were shed; I'm aware that at least some of what I've been trying to do is seen and understood by this very amazing person.

I tried to conduct myself in the space a little differently than I usually do. Typically, my presence in any space is a meek one that tries to stay out of the way. But this time, I walked as though I belong there, and mingled with others as though I am also deserving of taking up space. Just to try to push myself even further out of my comfort zone, today I sat at the "old men's" table (there aren't really assigned tables, it's just that there are folks that tend to gather together because they can easily relate to one another) as though I also belonged there, with the intention of listening to them speak to one another and seeing what I could learn. Imagine my shock when they talked to me as though my voice is one worth hearing!! I wasn't really sure what to do or how to behave in response to such a thing, but I did the best I could to try to contribute, even if I felt clumsy and foolish in the process.

At one point, towards the end, one of them said, as a joke, "Drive carefully home; I know how you women like to be speed demons, haha!" I tried to think of something witty and lighthearted to come back with, but the best I could do was smile bashfully. If only I remembered at the time the line that goes, "Ha! I am a woman in the same way that a tomato is a fruit!"

…I happen to live in a female body. But I don't really think about my gender most of the time. It fluctuates wildly between "none" and "yes". I'll take any pronoun, but the one I typically use for myself in my own mind is "it". But this alarms people, and I'm comfortable with letting people use whatever they see when they look at me, so… it's all good, I guess.

I stopped at Eggcellent on the way home. Some time ago, I had asked them if they might keep a QR code of the petition I made for you where folks can see it. Apparently, though, the people did not thoroughly read the blurb that came along with the QR code, and so they scanned it, thinking that it would lead them to a petition for a real-life human being. Their response, when they saw you, according to the kindly shopkeep, was, "Are you kidding me?" Essentially, disbelief and disgust. So naturally, the kindly shopkeeps had to stop displaying the QR code. I'm glad they stopped if this was how people were responding; I don't want to be bad for business.

But all the same… I have no idea how it is the case that so few people understand that the way your story ends is going to affect everyone here whose circumstances are similar to yours. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that recovery is possible. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that we are worth the effort involved with recovery. It will affect whether or not other people will be able to imagine that people like me and like others who I love are worthy of kindness, mercy, and help.

The way stories are told in my world shapes what people believe is and is not possible, on a MASS SCALE. Part of the reason why people still believe places like India are undeveloped, backwater places even though they're not is because that's how they're portrayed in stories in my world. Part of the reason why people still treat certain kinds of people as they do is because of how they're portrayed in books, movies, TV, comics, and song. Stereotypes persist in part because they are parroted over and over again by the song, art, and story that exists in our world. And stereotypes put a lot of nasty and totally arbitrary limitations on what people think that certain kinds of people deserve and are capable of.

So… my efforts to save you aren't just about you. My efforts are for every human in my world who is considered "different" or "fallen" in any way. Because we are not going to see peace in my world until every single one of us stops believing that there is a such thing as "kinds of people who are not worth compassion, kindness, decency, or help".

I want to live in a world where people can begin to imagine that even the most deeply fallen can get the help they need to rise up into wholeness again. Because if not even someone as amazing as you can be saved, what chance in hell do the rest of us have?

I ended up spiraling, though. Not because the kindly shopkeep took down the QR code, but because of what he said to me after the fact:

Some time ago, when I was working on one of the music boxes I made for you…

…there was a lady who came into the shop for the first time, asking what is good. The shopkeep told her a few things, and then went off to do something. I was excited to talk to someone who seems nice about a thing I loved, so I piped in with a couple of the things I like, and with a couple of things that weren't listed on the menu. She then asked about what I was doing, which was punching holes out on the music box. I asked her if she wanted to listen, and she said yes. So I ran the music box, and she told me that it was cool.

…Fast forward to today. The shopkeep told me that the lady knew it was my petition. Apparently, on the day we met, the lady found me weird, rude, and repulsive. She apparently thought that it was disrespectful of me that I spoke to her at all (apparently because "she wasn't talking to me"), and because she didn't actually want anything to do with my music box, but asked about it and said yes to listening to it anyway because she "didn't want to be mean". So I guess I left such a negative and intensely strange impression on her back then that when she felt disgust at the petition, she immediately knew it was mine.

And gosh, what a thing to have to sit with. Can you imagine it? The notion that I can frighten, anger, and disgust people just by existing in a space, talking joyfully about bubble tea, and showing a music box I made to someone who asked about it? I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take from this. On the one hand, I have the shopkeep telling me that the woman thought I am a bad, wrong, and disgusting thing, but in the same breath, he is telling me that "she should have said no if she didn't want to hear it", and "you are kind and you don't bother anybody and you should just be yourself". I understand, of course, that he must ride a careful balance between customers so that he doesn't lose anyone. But ya know… the notion that perhaps I might cause them to struggle by scaring customers off just by being myself is just… wow.

Of course, I am not at all angry with him for this. Rather, I'm glad he told me. I'm glad to be made aware that my presence makes others feel very uncomfortable. I'm glad to be told that I should continue to be myself… even if it comes with the unspoken implication that I had better go do it somewhere else where no one else has to deal with it, I guess.

The fact remains, of course, that just by existing, I scare people. Even if what I'm trying to do is exude love and joy, I still scare people. And I'm not really sure how it is that I manage to be so bad at trying to do good things that I am misunderstood to this extent, but… well. And also this is coming right after I resolve to act as though I belong in this world even though all signs point to the notion that I… don't. And maybe never will.

…If unaliving is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip this paragraph. But… ya know. I spent a good chunk of time today considering the merits of lying down in a cold puddle, forcibly inducing sleep, and letting the hypothermia take care of the job while I'm out. We have nature trails just a five minute walk from my house. It's winter, and there are lots of big puddles back there; I know where they are, and there's also no shortage of ravens, crows, coyotes, and foxes to feed. It's probably good that I don't have ready access to the kinds of medicines that would induce sleep.

…But. This sort of thinking is just the old wiring and the old conditioning rearing its ugly head in response to my past trauma. Old messages that go something like, "Nobody fucking asked you to speak, MAGGOT," and "Why can't you have normal interests and hobbies, you embarrassing sicko freak?" At this point, because stuff similar to this has been said to me so many times, it doesn't take much for my brain to interpret this stuff, even if it's not said directly. That's just how PTSD is. That's how it works.

But I don't have to surrender to it. I got knocked on my ass today from it, but I don't have to stay on the ground. I can get back up and see what's next. I can use REBT. I can ask the people around me for help. I can listen as the people who love me gently point out destructive, spiraling patterns in my thinking, so that I can stop myself for long enough to come up for air. I can hydrate and eat wholesomely so that my brain can have what it needs to manage the destructive thoughts and the painful emotions triggered from them. I don't have to remain on my knees and believe every nasty thing said about me by someone who is too miserable to see the beauty, joy, and love being offered to them for what it is. I can refuse to allow the voices of the people who don't understand me to be louder in my mind than the voices of those who love me.

I am different from other people, and sometimes this is a lonely thing that hurts very much. But it's easy for me to have love for others who are different. Love for you. Love for Frankenstein's Monster. Love for Mewtwo. Love for Magus. Love for all of my friends and chosen family, who themselves are misfits that society at large does not seem to want. I still love them all, even though society tells me I shouldn't. I can love me, too, even though society tells me that I shouldn't.

…"Conventional wisdom" is such a thing. There are some very good things about it, like, "Sticking a fork in your mouth and then sticking the prongs of that fork into an electrical socket just to see what happens is a very bad idea." And, things like, "Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, attempt to eat Rice Krispie Treats immediately after taking them out of the oven if you value the flesh on the inside of your mouth." Or, "Do not squirt hot glue into the palm of your left hand for the sake of impressing a girl." Or, related, "You cannot try to scrape hot glue off of the palm of your hand with your other hand and expect it to turn out well." And finally, "Try to avoid prioritizing yelling at your glue-covered hands over making use of the cold water in the sink that is immediately to your left."

(do not worry - these are not things that I have done; I've met some very interesting people in the course of my living who help me to avoid finding these things out the hard way, hahaha!)

But it can also tell us a lot of very false things. Things like, "You must remain connected with your family regardless of how they abuse you." Things like, "You should expect certain kinds of people to always act in this certain kind of way." Things like, "These particular kinds of people are all bad and you should stay away from them." Things like, "If everyone is 'mistreating' you, well the common denominator is you, so the problem must be you and not how others are treating you." And things like, "Certain kinds of people do not deserve kindness, help, or even basic decency."

So… I can only conclude that "conventional wisdom" needs to be taken VERY critically, and with ALL the grains of salt. But I think a good rule of thumb for evaluation is this notion: "Anything that is said with cruel, dehumanizing, and unloving intentions is false."

I'm not at risk of prematurely exiting my meat-mech, don't worry. I just tripped up a little today, that's all. And you know what? Ultimately, that's a good thing, because today, I watched myself get back up on my feet from it faster than what I was able to do previously. Sometimes we can't see all the progress we've made until weird things happen and we find ourselves recovering from them faster than we have in the past. So in this sense, even falling down is worth something!

I'm gonna get a snack and play some DDR to try to speed up my recovery even more. So I'll end this here-ish.

Hey, Sephiroth!! No matter how many times you fall down, and no matter how far you fall down, you can get back up! You just gotta let the voices attached to the hands reaching out to help be louder than the voices trying to tell you that you're a monster who doesn't belong! No matter how many voices scream unloving things at you, you gotta understand that such things can only be screamed at us from a place of pain, and nobody is acting in accordance with what's true or in accordance with their innermost nature when they are acting from a place of pain! So let the loving things be louder to your mind and to your ears. Let the loving things be louder, and let them spur you on to move forward, confident in the knowledge that you belong here, no matter what anyone else says.

You are loved. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[jamiesfootball]

A not-as-long addition to the Ted Lasso: Coach Shaped or Dad Shaped Thesis

When it comes to Ted wildly fluctuating between being Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped with the people around him, Jamie isn’t the only one who had trouble distinguishing what side of the stick was swinging for him. Nate struggled with it too.

Nate’s is a comedic introduction but one that explains him perfectly- he’s high strung, anal retentive, lacks self confidence, is afraid to speak out, and he (rightfully) assumes he’s such a non-person that no one knows his name (which is an underdog trope in media, but a self-fulfilling prophecy in real life, but I digress.

“What was that? Sorry I have a hard time listening to people who don’t believe in themselves. Now is this plan going to work?”

So here comes Ted with his people skills and human decency and he clocks Nate pretty quickly. It’s not long before he’s giving Nate the same Ted-isms he gives the boys on the team. It’s very Coach of him. But to Nate it’s not that simple. It’s Personal Attention, and it’s falling like rain after forty years of drought. It’s clearly the first time in a long time that anyone’s put any effort into Nate - including Nate.

And don’t get me started on Nate’s age, because the actor is past 40 and the thought of Nate working as a kitman for what was likely fucking…..years, so close to his dream job but so irrelevant to the people around him. Going home to his parents and whichever sibling-with-kids. Taking all the little jabs from his dad on the chin. His mother being sweet but placating in regards to his dad’s dismissals. Having nothing to celebrate with them that isn’t a holiday or birthday, because he’s not done anything with himself worth being proud of.

He borrowed his dad’s suit to the gala, and Ted took one look at it and went ‘that’s not good enough for you. Let’s sort this out’

His own dad was fine with Nate not trying- in that he withholds all hid expectations and then judges Nate when he fails to meet them. But then there’s Ted, and his expectations of Nate are sky high, clearly spoken, and he wants to help Nate get there.

So yeah, to Nathan Shelley Ted Lasso was very very Dad Shaped.

Nate finally got his big Want - becoming one of the coach’s - but it’s afterwards that things spiraled, and it’s entirely because from Nathan’s pov he saw Ted’s affection drying up. There was this guy who spent a whole year talking and building him up, and then all the sudden he peeks behind him and no one’s holding the bicycle seat. Ted’s still down the street and he’s looking the other way- at Roy, at Jamie, at Sam. So Nate doubles-down on what he thinks made him Great in the first place- his sharp mind and cutting analytics. His ability to not be too impressed by the professional athletes around him. But he keeps doing it Wrong somehow, because Ted isn’t looking at him with approval. He’s just watching Nate, and occasionally shaking his head like he’s disappointed.

It’s so Nate’s Dad Shaped he could scream.

Ted gave him a whistle - a loud signifier of power on the field - and then when Nate wasn’t looking, he replaced it with an indoor whistle. Because Nate kept using the loud whistle too loudly. Because Nate doesn’t understand when and where to use it, just like he doesn’t know yet how and when he should use his own powers as a leader.

Roy doesn’t even need a whistle. Roy comes back and just shouts ‘whistle!’ and it’s the same if not more effective than Nate’s whistle ever was. No one had to give Roy power.

So yeah. Ted Lasso built him up the way his dad never did, and then turned away like his dad always did the second Nate did something wrong. Of course he was Dad Shaped to Nate. How could he not be?

This, if anything, is almost tangible proof that Nate never played team sports as a kid, and it’s heartbreaking because it means Nate missed all the signs in season one that Ted never set out to be a substitute father to Nate.

Ted was Coaching him, deliberately, to join him as a Coach.

He looks at Nate and he sees someone whip-smart and brimming with potential and he doesn’t think twice about testing him out. Springing questions like pop quizzes, making moments for Nate to step up and shine. He arguably doesn’t even see how much Nate is struggling past a surface level (he never sees how Nate interacts with his family). Ted has one true victory at the end of season one, and it’s that he got Nate up to Assistant Coach. And don’t forget that for Ted being a Coach is his life’s work, he loves it.

He very likely did not imagine that that wouldn’t be enough for some people.

And so throughout season two we have this dissolution between Ted and Nate. Nate keeps waiting for Ted to step back up to the plate and guide him; and Ted keeps waiting for Nate to figure out what Coach Nate looks like. Of course Ted won’t step in, just the same as he wouldn’t step on Beard’s toes. The same that he’ll remark to Roy that he’s supposed to be coaching Jamie too, but ultimately won’t step in the middle of them working out their (many many) issues. He respects them all as Coach too much to interfere.

The tragedy of it all is that they both missed the forest for the trees. They were so focused on the roles they could play in each other’s lives, that it wasn’t until the dust settled that the actual role they played in each other’s lives became apparent.

They were friends.

Not the same way that Beard and Ted are friends, which is all friendship wrapped in a blanket of “Coach” “Coach”. Not friendship the way that Ted is still having to pull Roy to the side and Coach him on Coaching, while Roy keeps Ted abay by being miles ahead at being a well-adjusted person who understands themself. But all friendship isn’t meant to be the same, and what Ted and Nate had was built on its own foundation of respect and genuinely liking the other person.

Theirs is a friendship break up, and it hurts to watch.

[coelii]

I noticed a shift in your blog from being super horny to having a lot about your wife on it. Did she not know about it?

Well I’d like to think I’m still super horny, just super horny for my wife ✌️

She knew I had a blog but until she made her own she wasn’t exactly sure of what was on my blog. The best and worst thing about tumblr is the permanency of your posts. When you use your blog the way I did - as a social media page seeking engagement and community and navigating yourself you’re bound to say and do some things that others who know you personally would question.

In my case I was using my blog as a way to discover who I was authentically. For anyone paying attention you’ve seen my posts and can probably see me fluctuating wildly between being a dork and a gamer, to trying to be a milfy sex symbol, to acting like I was wayyyy younger than I actually am. A lot of the time I felt like I was playing Coelii like she was a D&D character: saying and doing things because that’s what I knew people expected. Seeing number get big feels good. Eventually I figured out how to make number get big with relative consistency. People liked when I was flirty and horny and interacted with my selfies that showed way more skin than I was comfortable showing so I kept posting those things.

If you were paying attention you probably remember a few months ago when I was feeling like I didn’t have a body and grappling with my unhealthy desire to get random validation from internet strangers. It was during this down period that Nat finally took a good hard look through my blog and was (justifiably) surprised at some of what she found.

Her and I had both been feeling neglected by the other for some time and even though I never hid the fact I was married and loved my wife, I also vented about her and posted a lot of questionable shit on here. What I failed to do offline was communicate with my wife.

Once we finally did that our relationship started getting stronger and stronger and I feel like I did when her and I started dating 13 years ago. Marriage is built and maintained and love only gets you so far. The moment you start thinking “she knows how I feel I don’t need to say it” is the moment your marriage is going to start to crack and deteriorate. Tell your spouse you love them all the time. Simp for them. Tell them how hot they are and pretty and handsome and sexy and how they make you feel. Say it every day, say it whenever you feel like it. Whenever you’re thinking about them tell them you are because they’re not going to know otherwise. I forgot about that somewhere along the way and I don’t plan on forgetting again.

I’ve already seen a noticeable drop in engagement from certain followers and mutuals. Some of these made me sad because I thought we were closer than we were, but in the end if you don’t wanna follow me or interact with me because I’m talking about my wife more and you find that annoying or something, or because I’m not sharing half naked pictures, well then don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out compadre. 🌝

For the record you can still find me hot, you can also find my wife hot, you can find the video of us making out hot. You’re free to tell me about how that makes you feel. Just know that at the end of the day there’s only one face I see when I go to sleep and she’s the same face I see every morning when I wake up. ♥︎

My blog is the same as it’s always been: a chronicle of my journey being a trans woman. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

[manorpunk]

2️⃣

‘Comprador’ refers to an agent of a large multinational corporation whose typical job responsibility is taking a small underdeveloped nation and turning it into a vending machine for a natural resource - oil, coffee, coal, minerals - then getting that nation so dependent on selling those raw materials to that company that they effectively control it.

Unrelatedly, the Global Logistics Network was the single largest anything of 2069.

They weren’t a monopoly, no, no, no. They were… you see, the crowded and fragile system of intercontinental shipping was simply too important to be left in the hands of any single nation. You all saw what happened when the Brits monopolized it, and when the US monopolized it after them. You’ve seen how nations owning major canals turns them into a hive of corruption. Shipping belongs to the world, which means it belongs to the GLN.

They were headquartered in Qingdao, a major city in the Shandong province of China. Don’t be fooled, China fumbled the past few decades as much as everyone else, but every institution needs a head, and every head needs a headquarters, and the headquarters of the Global Logistics Network were located in Qingdao. The complex of skyscrapers that comprised GLNHQ was large and populous enough to form its own city-state, a closed loop of offices, gyms, fabricators, dormitories, labs, shops, copackers, cafeterias, and warehouses. You could spend your whole life there without ever setting foot on the earth itself. Many did.

Such was the Global Logistics Network. Like capitalism rising centuries ago from the sclerotic and shambling remnants of feudalism, the GLN rose from the old ways of hyper-financialized over-leveraged capitalism to create something new, something so new it didn’t even have a name yet. Much like the transition from feudalism to capitalism, things were better overall, but good lord, what a low bar to clear.

Towering above it all at the top floor of the central skyscraper sat Meng “Harold” Jianli, sole co-founder of the GLN. One might wonder how someone could be a ‘sole co-founder,’ and the answer was that the GLN was so powerful and omnipresent that its leader could have called himself a living god for all the power that sat upon his person. He certainly had more power than those who had historically claimed the title of living god.

But Meng “Harold” Jianli was no god, living or otherwise. Despite the vast power seated upon his person, or perhaps because of it,he looked rather disheveled, with a jowly face like splotchy old parchment, a sagging belly, and a crudely functional flat-top of black hair. His suit was slack and rumpled - his weight had a tendency to fluctuate wildly thanks to the stress.

It was stressful, being in charge. Past a certain point, you don’t really get more powerful, you just have more people to babysit and more fires to put out. He had to keep an eye on Novo Karo Bioresearch, or they’d be so excited to show off their new research that they’d start doing eugenics. He had to keep an eye on Vae Victis Engineering, or they’d get so excited testing out their new tech that they’d start a world war. And now, with his hands steepled and his brow furrowed, he had to keep an eye on the vtuber that the American League had elected president.

 He stared at Sunny Roosevelt. Sunny smiled back and gave him a little wave.

“I am willing to work with you, miss Roosevelt. The GLN is willing to work with just about anyone, it’s one of our biggest strengths.” He shifted effortlessly between ‘I’ and ‘we,’ treating the two as synonyms. “The issue is, we are still trying to figure out what your administration actually intends to do.” 

“Hmm.” Sunny put a finger to her chin, pursed her lips, and looked upward. An ellipsis appeared over her head.  “You got a copy of my campaign objectives, right?”

“Are you referring to this?” He held up a single sheet of paper, on which was written ‘make anime real’ in 48-point font and nothing else.

“Yep!”

“And you think this qualifies as a roadmap for your presidency.”

“Personally, I think it’s quite ambitious.”

Harold puttered his lips. “Miss Roosevelt-”

“Please, call me ‘mommy.’”

“Miss Roosevelt, I understand that you are standing on rather shaky ground. The National Board of Directors is being dragged away from the provisional US government days,” he said, which neglected to mention how half of the National Board of Directors were former GLN big names, “and the new state congress acts more like a rehab clinic for celebrity podcasters than a governing body,” he said, which stood just fine without caveats.

“I understand,” Sunny said, nodding and still smiling, “I’m a bimbo who’s in way over her head, so you’re going to unveil the GLN’s big five year plan and tell me to follow it like a good little girl.”

Harold was already in the process of lifting a hefty unlabeled binder, intending to thump it dramatically atop his desk, but the accuracy of Sunny’s comment left him slightly deflated. “I prefer to think of it as an advisory-”

“And then I’ll kiss up to you during our conversations,” Sunny continued, “but stall and drag my feet when it comes to actually implementing anything, and you’ll say,” she loosened her face and dropped her voice, “dammit Sunny, are you trying to play me for a fool?”

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t sound like Richard Nixon,” Harold protested, sounding kind of like Richard Nixon.

“And then I’ll say, it’s not me, it’s the state governors, they just refuse to cooperate. The new congress is one big old boy’s club. Even the Board of Directors is demanding overly-detailed descriptions of everything before they’ll sign off on it, it’s malicious compliance!” Sunny hung her head and threw her hands, wailing, “you set me up to fail, Harold. You set me up to fail, you rat bastard!”

“Are you done?”

Sunny straightened back up. There was that smile again. “Yep. That was fun.”

“In any case, while I understand you are currently something of a figurehead, even figureheads cannot afford to do nothing. Not when a third of the country is still lacking even the barest measures of centralized government.”

“What, you mean the Midwest Autonomous Zone?” A little question mark appeared over Sunny's head. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like that started with the fall of the old US. Missouri was a dump long before the thirties.”

“Be that as it may-”

“That’s the 2030s, because we’re in the future.”

“Miss Roosevelt.”

“Please, call m-”

“No. Miss Roosevelt, why did you become president if you are so averse to actually presiding?”

Sunny shrugged and let out a huffy little sigh. “Look, most people weren’t exactly begging to have America back. Not even Americans. They don’t want someone with a bold, inspirational vision. Bold, inspirational visions are what start world wars, for George’s sake. I, for one, believe that bench-warming is not just a good idea but a moral imperative.”

“George’s sake?” Harold repeated.

“Saint George Washington. Oh, right, America’s got a brand new religion now, it’s called Founderism. We took the whole Founding Father worship thing and made it an official heresy. Also, Jesus was a small business owner.”

Harold grimaced and considered leaving the former USA to the wolves for a few more decades.

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Squid Surge

Panda’s Notes:  We all know Olivia Octavius is prime ler material, but in 6 whole years, I haven't seen a thing. So here's a thing. >w< Blame @carrie-tate for this one. I love this picture.

[Ao3] || [Cookies Found: 0] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

There’s something about staring into the pulsating epicenter of an interdimensional rift that changes you.

There’s something about losing your lab’s main source of funding that changes you too, but that’s neither here nor there.

The last few months were spent on research. Peter Parker had reportedly been 26 years old when he died…Spiderman had only appeared in the city about a decade ago, give or take. It had been barely a year after that first appearance when she and Spiderman became recurring enemies.

Sixteen years old. Maybe seventeen. She’d been fighting over and over—reworking and redesigning machine after machine—to fight a child. It was a bit funny, to say the least; in fact, it explained a lot. His terrible humor; his exaggerated voices for those first few years; his…unorthodox plans.

…She would miss him. In a sense, of course.

The universe is a funny thing though. Hardly a day after Peter was gone, three entirely different Spider-characters had given her a hell of a fight in the woods just outside of Alchemax. One of them being a nearly-identical—not counting the obvious difference in age—Peter Parker, and another with the ability to turn completely invisible. Now, that was something.

The one with the invisibility power; he’d first appeared in the Alchemax building alongside that second Peter, in a terrible store-bought spider suit and barely able to use his ability consistently. It was kind of adorable, like watching a kitten’s first attempts to climb. In the heat of the chase, it touched something human deep inside of her—She’d have to make a note to fix that—and she couldn’t help teasing him a bit in the moment.

The next day had been the collider’s final one. Six Spiders in total, five of which disappeared through the fluctuating rifts. She’d made the mistake of believing the smallest one—who showed up in a black-and-red suit after showing off his invisibility—was a seventh variant, but it’d only lasted a moment. The others had recognized him; they were so happy to see him. It might have felt nice to kill him, in that moment.

But she hadn’t; she honestly didn’t fully remember what happened. She awoke on a hard surface, her pneumatic arms clutching for purchase on something. Blood was running down her face and some bone somewhere was definitely broken. The whole chamber was filled with light in colors she had never imagined. The air was being pulled toward one of the portal generators; the temperature shifted wildly as everything swirled, and for just a fleeting moment, she had a glimpse into a web of something infinite and indescribable.

So, yeah. Minor Existential Quandary. No big deal. Not an issue at all.

Recovery was an interesting time spent between different casts and braces, readjusting actuators and programs. No one took much notice; lying low between the chaotic moments was something she took a sort of pride in. The news droned on in the background every time; the word on the street was a particular, brand-new black-suit Spiderman. She was curious about him; she admired his sacrifice. But days turned to weeks, turned to months. He didn’t disappear; he didn’t falter; if anything, he was improving quickly for such a small thing. He was supposed to be here, in this dimension.

That brings us back to this. She’d wracked her brain trying to remember that night. The whole week had become a bit fuzzy with the head injury, but something stuck about. Miles. Spoken like a name. She’d heard it a few times during the encounters they’d had. They were all just so talkative, weren’t they?

Hacking into databases wasn’t necessarily a strong suit of hers. Not to say that it’s hard, but it’s nowhere as easy as robotics. Miles is an interesting name to search for too, all things considered. Not common enough for her to scrap the search entirely—Like Peter, funny enough—but not so rare that the hunt was a simple handful of clicks. And she adored a good puzzle.

Now, how to narrow this down… If the precedent held true, the kid would be under 20 years old. Great. That removes…40% of the results. That’s still a few dozen in the area though, less puzzling now and more downright luck.

…Olivia doesn’t really believe much in luck. What she does believe in is probability. Such as, if someone were to, say, spread an itty-bitty little rumor through the proverbial criminal grapevine about a new secret project Doc Ock was working on; well, then the probability that such information would get to Spiderman was nearly 100%. And then, the probability that Spiderman would simply have to infiltrate Alchemax to confirm such a rumor was…

Actually, that brings us to the present. The brace on her leg kept the occasional aches from distracting her; the one on her wrist had just become a habit from weeks of routine. She stood in her personal lab, making a few final calibrations. Frankly, the timing was impeccable. The tablet beside her, showing schematics and diagnostics for the mechanism on the table, had a small grid of dots in one corner that shifted from green to red in a sort of line before only one dot stayed red. She tapped the grid, making it the focal program on the screen, and she smirked to herself as she lifted the apparatus enough for it to attach itself onto her back. It felt lighter; less metal hidden in the tubes definitely helped. The arms lifted her weight off the floor easily; that part hadn’t needed any changing.

“One last thing.” She finally spoke, pulling her glasses off while one of the arms passed her goggles into her hand. “I’ll need to test the new program; it’d be so nice to have some assistance~” She pressed the red dot on the tablet, and a loud hiss suddenly came from the ceiling behind her, quickly followed by a startled yelp. She turned with a grin, finding a flailing partial-silhouette made of fire suppressant powder. “How nice of you to drop in, Spider-Man.” She taunted playfully, lashing an arm across the room toward him.

He dodged to one side, perching himself on a table as he let himself become visible again. “I-I—How…?” He stammered out, ducking away from another arm trying to grab him.

“It’s a temperature detector, sweetie, not a person detector. In fact, I had to increase its sensitivity just for you!”

He glared at her—Don’t ask how she can tell—before lunging to one side and attempting to rush at her. She had lifted herself up and backwards to stand on the workbench, and Spider-man flinched as all four arms lashed toward him. He fired off a web, attempting to pull himself out of the way, but she managed to catch him by one ankle and drag him close enough for another arm to coil around his wrist. The claw shoved into his hand, blocking the trigger on that web shooter as he flailed nervously.

“Huh, the speed adjustments paid off too.” She grinned, tapping her chin as she watched Spiderman grab at the plastic tubing.

“This is the secret project I heard so much about?” He let out a huff, and she could feel the air tingle as sparks started to jump off of him. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Her smirk didn’t falter at all. “Sorry, Miles; I made a point to keep this design completely      insulated from electricity.”

He froze up completely. Oh. She actually hadn’t meant to let that slip so early. But given his reaction…

“I don’t—” He tried to speak, but the new anxiety was dripping from his voice.

“So that is your name!” Olivia laughed. “Honestly, you Spiders really should work on keeping your mouths shut during these little fights.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Octavius.” He growled, looking away and prying harder at the claw on his wrist.

She eyed him skeptically, shaking her head. “You can play tough if you want, but I do have to tell you: You were wrong earlier; my secret project is actually this little program.” She emphasized the statement by running the command, leaning casually on the workbench as she was set back on the floor. Two of the remaining arms moved suddenly, the claws squeezing gently at his sides. The reaction was instant and, frankly, hilarious.

Spiderman let out a panicked sort of noise, his free hand grabbing at one of the offending claws. “A-Aye, watch it; tell your vacuum tubes to keep their hands to themselves!”

Olivia let herself chuckle, twirling her finger casually in the air as the claw on his other side mimicked the motion. “Oh, come on now, Spiderman; you think I’ve never heard that one before?” She taunted, smirking as she watched him squirm. “Besides, it’s not like they’re doing anything; you’re fine.”

She waved her hand dismissively, pretending to turn her attention elsewhere while both claws suddenly moved faster. The gentle squeezes became very purposeful kneading from his hips to his ribcage, and Spiderman—Miles—kicked wildly as a startled laugh managed to escape. Olivia glanced back at him, crossing her arms and hoping her sarcasm didn’t show too much. “You still alright up there?”

Miles was definitely glaring at her if his tone was any hint. “You’re doing this on purpose…” He tried to growl, but it sounded a lot more like stifled giggling.

“Doing what~? I’m not doing a thing. The program is just a maintenance tool. Keeps all the joints working, like cracking your knuckles.” She tapped her chin. “Unless, of course…”

“Shut up.” He snarled, trying to scrunch himself up as both claws crawled tauntingly slow up his sides.

“…You’re ticklish.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other, and electricity jumped off of Miles’ hands again.

Olivia sneered as she let the claws strike; one of them resumed the pattern of squeezing up his side while the other tickled mercilessly under the arm he was dangling by. And wow, it really shouldn’t be this easy; this was just unfair. Miles actually burst out laughing, his escape efforts redoubling in the form of much more aggressive kicks. Olivia simply kept her distance, chuckling as she pulled the tablet on her desk closer to make a few notes.

Reaction times were good; pressure calibration seemed accurate; minute motions were apparently quite realistic, if that squealing was anything to go by.

“Are you having fun?” She taunted, reaching to sneak a poke on his stomach and snickering when he nearly connected a kick through his laughter. “I think this is fun. Now…” She tapped her chin as she examined her notes…

Logic and Opportunity… In a situation where a problem is presented, these two will balance in some way. Most people, when an opportunity presents itself, will try to logic out the surrounding circumstances to decide if the opportunity is truly worth taking at the time. A computer, however, gathers all the logical information it has, determines an optimal solution, and when an opportunity to perform that solution appears—

…This is all to say that Olivia finally lashed out with her remaining actuator, the claw snatching Spiderman’s mask off of his face.

Oh…This feeling again.

Spiderman—Miles—looked shocked for a second, the momentary joy in his eyes giving way to a panic that was…primal, to say the least. Fear that everything was going to fall away. The sight of impending death, and the knowledge that you aren’t ready.

Olivia hesitated. There’s something about staring into the eyes of the kid you had made deliberate plans and attempts to kill that changes you.

Both of them were frozen; his face was hard—determined—but it didn’t disguise the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. His mind was completely blank.

What was she thinking? She realized quite suddenly that she hadn’t fixed that pesky humanity. His face softened as she thought; her expression must have changed.

What had actually changed was that her arms had lowered him closer to the floor, the grips of the claws loosening enough for—Right, they were fighting. He wrenched his hand, opening the claw on his wrist enough to pull free, and he broke into a sprint the second he hit the floor. She reflexively pulled herself out of the way, stumbling slightly as her legs hit the workbench. Olivia looked quickly around the room, only to find herself alone. His mask had fallen to the floor; he wouldn’t leave without it. She was about to adjust her goggles to shift filters, but a familiar crackling over her shoulder caught her attention. She felt a hard shove, most of the electricity absorbed by the apparatus as the arms moved to keep her from falling. Static tingled through her shoulders as she turned to face the boy standing poised on her desk. She could handle this; she just needed to focus.

[ERROR!]

The message flashed in the corner of her vision, and Miles squinted at her, apparently spotting the backwards text through her goggles. She fell suddenly to her own feet, the actuators shifting as the device on her back sparked. A dull ache shot through her spine; they weren’t responding to the neural link. Not really a great time for that, but nothing she hasn’t dealt with before.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared for two of the claws to start tickling her sides, and Miles stifled a laugh at the giggling snort that escaped her. Yeah, actually, forget that poignant revelation she just had; she’s still going to kill him.

“You little brat!” She barely managed to get out, her tone nowhere near as accusatory as she’d wanted through her own growing laughter.

He stepped back slightly when she staggered forward, and he crouched on the desk, resting his chin on one hand as he watched her crumble with a slight smirk. “Y’know, you’re right; this is kind of fun.”

Now, he was the one to hesitate, not that she was able to focus fully on him or anything. She heard his web shooter fire, and the mask was snatched off of the floor. There was a faint tapping before he gave an exasperated sigh. “¿Cómo encuentras algo?” He huffed before, suddenly, the actuators went mostly still. They still spasmed occasionally, and when they attempted to retract back into the apparatus just left three of them deflating on the floor.

[EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ACTIVATED, SHUTTING DOWN]

She’d barely caught sight of the message through the slight haze in her eyes just before her goggles darkened and deactivated. She took the time to catch her breath before she pushed herself up, one of her hands moving to rub her side as the giggles faded away. Spiderman was gone, as far as she could tell—Smart kid—but her glasses had been webbed to the ceiling. Smug little brat.

Olivia fished one of her many spare pairs out of a drawer on her workbench, sighing as she pulled the tablet closer and flicked through the different programs. A thirty-character access code later, she was scrolling back through the security footage for this room. One of the angles had a crystal-clear shot of Miles’ face. The ideas that must have been running through his head to put that much fear in his eyes…

No one else had access to these records until the security backup at the end of the night. Olivia valued her privacy more often than not.

Logic and Opportunity. When a situation presents itself, a computer will logic out a solution and perform immediately when the opportunity arises.

Olivia took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. She deleted the footage.

A dot on the grid program shifted subtly from red to green, and she smiled.

There’s something about humanity that changes you.

[hkpika07]

The Spencer Post

Hi this is where I explain my observed nuances with Spencer and how I personally characterize him. Explaining why I think he acts the way he does. Please note that like 90 percent of this is headcanon.

Let’s get some backstory on Spencer. His job is to be the personal private engine of the Duke and Duchess of Boxford. This is a very prestigious job, one unsurprising of his class of engine. Being a Gresly and being implied siblings with the real life engine Mallard, he has a lot of expectations and responsibilities put on his buffers. On top of that, let me remind you he is a private engine. Not only does he carry the weight of expected perfection as the other greslys, he has to look good and be the status symbol for the Duke and Duchess. He has. So much to keep on top of, to keep track of and remember. He arguably might have more expectations placed on him than Gordon or Scotsman.

Not only that but Spencer is very….alone. He doesn’t fit in anywhere on account of his position. He’s not really a mainland engine because he’s not always on the mainland. He’s not a Sodor engine because he doesn’t live on Sodor, he lives with the Duke and Duchess presumably at their main house somewhere else. He’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into either picture.

But how does this affect how he acts? Why does he act like such an asshole? Well, the answer is a bit more complex than you might think. As we all know, steam engines are always at a risk of being scrapped. The exception being Sodor because Sodor is a steam sanctuary. But on the mainland it’s a different story. If engines on the mainland are at risk for being scrapped for not being useful enough, what’s to stop them from sabotaging each other in order to get a leg up on them. To make their competition look bad just so they can live another day. On the mainland its every man for himself. And if you want to survive, you take out the weakest.

And Spencer, poor poor Spencer, already burdening the weight of perfection on his shoulders and his status as an outcast fueling his desperate need for validation and need to fit in. Lets the mainland engines’ way of thinking pollute his brain. This idea of needing to take out those below you, less useful and who are a threat, infects his mind and influences his actions. He thinks he needs to get rid of those underneath him so he can continue to survive, to not jeopardize his position as private engine.

And he takes this way of thinking to Sodor. He harasses Edward and says he should be scrapped before losing to him in a race. He hunts down Hiro because he thinks he’s a piece of rusted scrap metal and nothing more. He becomes rotten. Vindictive. Vitriolic.

But…. He gets better. He gets lectured pretty harshly by the Duke and Duchess for his hunt on Hiro. And he spends more time on Sodor. And once again, he’s influenced. Because at heart, Spencer is a people pleaser. And this fact is important.

Because Spencer’s personality and morals seem to fluctuate wildly throughout the show. Sometimes he’s a great guy, if a bit snobbish, and in others he’s quite possibly the biggest asshole ever known. And here’s why I think that is. Spencer pingpongs between Sodor and the mainland. Thus his personality is influenced by whoever he is around. And to be frank, the mainland engines are massive pricks, and would 100% tell Spencer he’s too soft or insane for letting a “useless hunk of scrap iron” live. For not falling into the every man for himself mentality. And so every time he returns to Sodor he’s been conditioned to think that way because he molds into whatever people tell him to be.

And on Sodor he molds into a better person. I think that later on in the series where his personality is more solid and less horribly inconsistent, he genuinely comes into his own with the help of the Sodor engines. Knowing that he always has a place on Sodor and grows out of the mainland mindset for good

He learns. He grows. Yes he fucked up bad but he was heavily misguided and insecure about not only fitting in, but also being perfect. His mind was poisoned but it got clearer. He finally made friends and has a place he can say he belongs to.

I love Spencer, I only want the best for him.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Aerin's Confusion in the Final Battle

I am so tickled by the idea that when the final battle happens, Aerin has no idea what's going on. I mean sure, 'Stop the Ash Empress,' but the rest of it... Nobody seems to really explain to him what they've learned. They clearly didn't tell him about Nia or true magic, and that would have been right at the top of my list of info it would be good for Aerin in particular to know.

And I think it's so funny to picture Aerin being lost and desperately trying to make it seem like he knows what's up while in the thick of this battle. Because he wants so badly for the team to like him and think he's cool. And he's so used to being the one with more information to work from than anyone else. So he's wildly fluctuating between absolutely bewildered and a cocky smirk to try and cover it.

There are so many moments that must be absolutely wild if you haven't gotten the updated lore the rest of the party did-

Nia is what?! And you're fine with that?? ...She can produce invisible magic that turns things to stone. Cool. Good for her. Seems nice.

Princess Valax, the immortal daughter of the Ash Empress is on our side now? ...Cool, cool, I'm not surprised by that. No, you're charismatic, I get it.

I'm sorry, Nia, did you just call her Mother of Grey?? Nifara did what?! ...No, I could have guessed that. It makes perfect sense. Yep, the Old Gods are real and this is one of them.

Yes, what to do about the rifts and portals. I clearly have an opinion because I understand what's going on. But I trust your judgment more than mine, so I'll just tell you I have confidence in whatever you want to do.

[gayofthefae]

Sometimes I watch reaction videos to Stranger Things 4 to validate myself and yup. Everybody knows Will likes Mike and see that his love is super selfless and want him to be happy, but they believe that Mike loves El so they don't know how it's gonna turn out.

But it's that consistent thing I keep saying: believing Mike loves El isn't the same as rooting for it. Across the board it seems like curiosity more than anything of how they're gonna untangle this and make Will happy.

And most notably, they tend to be very flexible, especially with the fluctuation in Mike's plot. They believe that he doesn't love her when it seems like it. They take his explanation when he gives it - two very different directions the plot seemed to be going and they got on board with both as it came. It's go with the flow. I don't see a lot of challenging of "Will can't be gay" or "How could Mike not love El after the past seasons", just objective observation and opinion on them as events, so should I think they'll behave any differently for season 5?

It calms me that most of the reaction to any event like Mike loving or not loving El and Will loving Mike is "oh, I didn't know that!" "ooh, is this what's going on? Did I figure it out?" rather than critiquing. Most people don't seem critical, just invested and curious. That will likely continue. I can absolutely see "Mike LIED? I wasn't expecting that! Ooh so wait maybe does he love Will back? Let's keep watching and see" etc. in simple, pure anticipation and not "they shouldn't have written this plotline" or "they clearly made it up on the fly how dare they ruin the show".

edit: also the "distract from all cute moments with Will being sad" ploy is wildly successful very consistently, I've even seen a couple where they noticed him in the background of the desert reunion when he was standing between them out of focus. And the focus with El tends to be on NINA. Mike's plot is the only time I see any hints of Milkvan. Rooting for Milkvan so that Mike can feel better about himself.

I repeat: they are rooting for Milkvan for MIKE'S happiness only. That's the only thing left. For him to tell them that that's not what will make him happy.