#and my problem is working on my damn. 10+ page updates

[another-dra-anew]

...Hm.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Five

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, detailed meltdown on-page, angst.

Notes — Another double update, go me! PSA: Our Amelia has a bit of a difficult time in this one. Take care of yourselves x

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2019

WhatsApp Groupchat — The 2019 F1 Grid

Charles L. I have found an iPad in Ferrari hospitality. It is engraved with the initials A.B. Any ideas?

Lewis H. Does it have a bunny sticker on it?

Charles L. Yes!

Lewis H. That’s Amelia’s, then.

Lando N. lol I’ll come get it just gimme 10 mins im in a debrief rn 

Charles L. Sure no problem Amelia is Zak Brown’s daughter, yes?

George R. Yeah mate The smart one.

Sebastian V. Haha. She is the one Binotto wants? Brown hair, pretty smile?

Lando N. Bro.

Lewis H. @Sebastian — Mattia has tried to get her to Ferrari?

Sebastian V. Yes. He’s offered her some very lucrative opportunities. She has so far turned all of them down.

Carlos S. She’s loyal to McLaren. Leave her to us, yes?

Valtteri B. But if she ever decided to go elsewhere, Mercedes would make sense.

Lewis H. Yeah obviously 👍🏻

Lando N. ????????????

Lance S. If she was offered a million dollars to fix the Racing Point car, do you think she’d take it? Not a hypothetical. My dad wants to know.

Max V. Money won’t work. You forget she’s already the child of a millionaire.

Lance S. Damn it.

Kimi R. Is this the child always in Norris’ garage?

Lando N. Don’t call her a child we are literally the same age

Kimi R. That does not change the fact

Daniel R. But seriously, why was she even in Ferrari hospitality in the first place?

Max V. Ice cream.

Lando N. Ice cream 

Lewis H. Ice cream.

Sebastian V. I can confirm she was here for ice cream. Pistachio, specifically.

Charles L. I cannot believe I’ve still never met her. Is she really so smart?

Lando N. Yes.

Pierre G. Absolutely.

Max V. Smarter than you are capable of comprehending, Charles.

Charles L. Then I suppose I will just have to charm her into accepting Mattia’s offer 😌

Lando N. I will put in the wall, Leclerc.

Charles L. Oh! You are together with her, Lando? I didn’t know!

Lando N. No, we’re not together.

Charles L. Then I am confused.

Max V. Her father has practically forbade them from dating. Total nonsense if you ask me.

Carlos S. They are dating.

Daniel R. @Carlos 😳😳😳

Lando N. @Carlos NO WE ARE NOT STOP SAYING THAT

Sergio P. Mucho defensive…

Carlos S. He wrote his race number on her shoes.

Lando N. So what? That means nothing.

Daniel R. Oh brother….

Max V. Yeah, sorry, I can’t even back you on that one Lando. That’s a lot.

Kimi R. My wife had my number stitched into her shoes. We got married six months later.

George R. So Kimi is saying you’re basically engaged, bro.

Lewis H. Let’s stop talking about this. Before Lando has a full on meltdown.

Charles L. Too late. He has arrived for the iPad with a terrible attitude. 

Lando N. I hate all of you.

— 

Subject: Workplace Conduct Reminder – Inclusivity & Respect at McLaren

From: HR Department To: All McLaren Racing Staff Date: [Sunday, post-race, 10:42 PM]

Dear Team,

As the season continues and tensions rise both on and off the track, we’d like to take a moment to remind everyone of McLaren’s core values — collaboration, respect, and inclusion.

We are incredibly proud of the diversity across our team, from engineering to strategy, operations to communications. Every person is here because they bring something exceptional to the table — and that includes our colleagues who may experience or perceive the world differently than others.

We ask that all team members remain mindful of the following:

Neurodiversity is not a barrier — it is an asset. Please be conscious of language and behaviour that may unintentionally alienate or diminish the contributions of individuals who may process things differently. This includes members of our extended team, trusted advisors, and collaborators who work closely with us — regardless of job title or official role.

“Vibes” are not a metric — Judging someone’s energy, personality, or communication style is not only unprofessional but also unfair. Everyone representing or contributing to McLaren, formally or informally, deserves respect.

Support one another — Whether someone wears McLaren orange full-time or contributes behind the scenes, everyone here plays a part in our collective success.

Rumours are not culture — Let’s keep paddock gossip out of professional spaces. If you have concerns, we encourage you to speak directly to your manager or HR.

This message is not in response to any one incident but rather a gentle pit stop reminder: our team functions best when everyone feels seen, heard, and safe.

If you have any questions or want to speak to someone in confidence, please feel free to reach out to HR directly. We’re here to help.

Kind regards, The McLaren Racing HR Team [hr@mclarenracing.co.uk]

— 

iMessage — 11:40pm

Lando Yo, did you see the email?

Carlos Sí.

Lando Kinda hardcore. Glad Zak did something 

Carlos Somebody said something to Amelia?

Lando Yeah someone in PR idk I feel like I should know more about her stuff I feel stupid tho. Like I don’t know anything. Just that she’s Amelia yano 

Carlos I did some reading. Come to my hotel room. We eat pizza. I will teach you what I know and we can google the rest.

Lando Legend. Thanks, mate.

— 

The course he took her to wasn’t flashy — quiet, tucked away, the kind of place her dad’s friends would never be caught dead in. That was intentional. They weren’t exactly hiding their… friendship, but they weren’t trying to advertise it either.

Amelia stared down at the club he’d handed her like it was a piece of martian debris.

“This is very stupid,” she muttered. “Pointless, really.”

“It is,” Lando agreed, his lips twitching. “Just hit the ball.”

She squinted at the tiny white ball he’d settled on the grass in front of her. “Is it supposed to just… go?”

“Yes.”

“Like in a line?” she clarified, glancing at him.

He shrugged. “In theory.”

She swung. Missed.

Lando clapped anyway. “Incredible form. I’ve never seen such calculated failure.”

“It was bad,” she said seriously. “I didn’t hit the ball. I made a hole in the grass, Lando.” She stared down at the muddy crater with quiet horror.

He just gave her an encouraging nod, gesturing for her to try again.

She sighed, feeling the beginning of a stress rash creep along her neck. But she tried again. And that time, she hit it — not far, just a lazy roll across the grass — but enough to surprise herself. Lando caught the way her eyes widened, saw the exact moment the thrill overtook her frustration.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed her another ball.

They kept going like that for a while — her slowly getting the hang of it, him slipping in dumb jokes and patient explanations between swings. She never asked for help, but he noticed how closely she watched every move he made. Her eyes, always sharp, always calculating.

Eventually, she dropped to the grass with a dramatic sigh and said, “Why do people think this is relaxing? I’m hot and my legs are tired.”

Lando chuckled and sat beside her, kicking his legs out long. “I think it’s relaxing. Your dad likes it.”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad. It makes me stressed.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

She pulled at a blade of grass, rolled it between her fingers. “He told me again that it would be better if I stayed away from you. He said it would make things easier. For me. For you. For the team.” She continued. 

Lando let the silence sit for a moment before asking, his voice quiet and slightly unsure. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I want him to not worry. I want him to trust me. I want…” She hesitated, frowning at the grass. “I want to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I might wreck everything.” 

“You’re not wrecking anything,” Lando said. He tapped the ground next to her leg and she glanced at him, blinking. “I like hanging out with you.” He told her. 

She didn’t say anything, just flicked the blade of grass from her fingers and looked at the trees that surrounded the course. “I don’t know what I feel yet,” she said finally. “Toward you, I mean. But I know that I have liked this. Today. Not the golf. Being with you.”

Lando grinned — couldn’t help himself. Probably looked like a right knob, but he didn’t care. “Want to keep playing?” He asked. 

She gave him a look. “I might get fined for ruining so much of their grass.”

He handed her another ball. Shrugged. Smirked. “It’s fine. I make a lot of money.” 

She rolled her eyes.

— 

Amelia shut her bedroom door with more force than she meant to and leaned against it, breath caught high in her chest like she’d just ran a marathon. Her bag hit the floor. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t know why. Except; she did.

Her body was full of something too big. Too much. A knot of heat and noise and confusion that had no exit. It felt like all the inside parts of her were pressing outward, like she might split open if she didn't stay still.

She pressed her palms hard into her eyes like she could push it all back in. But it was already too late. The thoughts were everywhere; spilled oil, tangled cords, static static static. Her brain wouldn’t quiet down. Wouldn’t give her space to think.

She’d had a good day. That was the worst part. 

Lando had been good.

He never looked at her like she was difficult. He didn’t act like she was hard work. When she didn’t catch onto something the first time, he just explained again. No sighing. No staring. No pretending. Things weren’t easy with him, not exactly, but they were lighter. Easier.

She sat hard on her bed and the tears came without warning; fast, silent, relentless.

She didn’t cry often. Usually she just shut down. Usually the wall slammed down before anything could spill out. But this time everything had slipped past it, and now she was sobbing, but it didn’t even feel like crying. It felt like her whole nervous system had shattered.

A knock at the door.

“Amelia?” her mum’s voice, soft. “We just got back. Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned her face away and wiped at it, even though the tears kept falling. Her skin was already stinging. Her chest was tight.

The door creaked open.

“I’m not upset,” Amelia said fast, panicked. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why I feel like this. No. I do. I do. I just don’t know what to do with it. And I don’t want to talk about it—except I do. I do, I just—” She broke off, swallowing hard.

Her mum sat on the edge of the bed, calm. Grounding.

“I went out with Lando today,” Amelia said, too fast. “To play golf. His idea. He said we should do something fun. So I did. And it was fun. I didn’t freak out or embarrass myself. I didn’t ruin it. I didn’t ruin it.”

She dug her nails into her palms. Her face was blotchy and sore.

“He makes me feel normal,” she whispered. “Not small. Not like a problem. Just… me. And now I don’t know what I feel. I think I want him to be my friend. Or maybe something else. I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, because it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Her mum asked calmly.

Amelia blinked at her, and then, like someone flicked a switch, the anger surged. Hot and fast, like a fever.

“Because of Dad,” she spat. “Because he thinks that it would be a distraction. Because he thinks I’ll screw everything up just by being around. Like I’m some walking disease that’s gonna infect Lando’s entire career. I know that’s what he’s worried about the most.”

She was breathing too fast. Her limbs were twitching now, hands clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t have friends,” she said. “You know that. I’ve never had friends. Not ones that stay. I get too intense. Too blunt. Too weird. Too tired. And people always stop trying.”Her voice cracked. Her throat burned. “But Lando didn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped. And it’s still not enough. I still don’t get to have this one good thing without it turning into a problem.”

The sobs came back, messy and loud this time. She stood up too fast, swaying. Her hands started moving uncontrollably at her sides; jerky, uncoordinated. A warning sign. The meltdown was building and she couldn’t stop it, could never stop it. 

Her mum stood too, moving slow, blocking her path without touching her.

“Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to think about any of that right now.” Her mom’s attempts to comfort her were useless against the onslaught of emotions she was feeling. 

“I’m so angry,” Amelia choked out. “I finally feel calm, I finally feel seen, and it’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to want something or feel something if it’s inconvenient for anyone else!”

She was trembling now. Her skin felt wrong. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. She wanted to rip it off. She wanted to scream and break things. Instead, she clenched her fists and shook and shook and shook.

“Do you want me to get your things?” her mum asked, voice calm, anchoring.

Amelia nodded hard. “Yes. My weighted blanket. And the golf ball. It’s in my bag. Lando bought it for me and I want to hold it. It’s yellow.”

“I’ll get everything,” her mum said gently.

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” Amelia shouted, the volume jarring even to herself. “I’m trying so hard. All the time. I’m always trying.”

“I know,” her mum said. “And I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Amelia slid to the floor. Her body folded in on itself, hands clawed into her sleeves, breathing uneven.

The noise in her head kept rising.

Usually, this was when she wanted her dad. Wanted him to sit next to her. Watch a race in silence. Be there without asking anything of her.

But not now.

Now, all she wanted was for him to stay far, far away.

— 

It was almost midnight.

Her room was quiet now; weighted blanket pulled up to her chest, lights off, only the soft blue glow of her phone screen lighting her face. The golf ball sat in her right hand, warm from where she’d been holding it for hours. She kept rolling it between her fingers, feeling the small ridges, the smoothness. Grounding.

She had stopped shaking, but her body was aching like one big bruised muscle. 

She stared at the message thread with Lando, her thumb hovering, retreating, hovering again.

She didn’t know what to say.

Everything in her head still felt too big. Too messy. But the quiet between them was worse. Not bad, not uncomfortable, just... unfamiliar. She wanted to talk to him. 

Finally, she started typing. 

— 

iMessage — 10:11pm

Amelia I didn’t enjoy golf very much. But I liked being with you. Thank you for inviting me.

Lando Norris I’m glad you came anyway We had fun though, right? I had fun :)

Amelia Yes, I had fun. It was confusing. But in a good way. I liked learning something new.

Lando Norris I liked today too You were kind of great We should do more new things together. Just us

Amelia Maybe. I feel strange tonight. My head is a bit loud.

Lando Norris That’s alright

Amelia Do you think if I asked you questions about your Formula Three races… you would answer them?

Lando Norris Absolutely I’d love that Haven’t talked about F3 in ages Might be nice to remember

Amelia Okay. What did it feel like the first time you won?

Lando Norris Like my hands knew before I did Like the whole world stopped for one second so I could catch up It felt… right. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be ya know 

Amelia Oh

Lando Norris: You okay?

Amelia: I forgot all the questions I had for you. Sorry.

Lando Norris That’s okay. Don’t worry. Your brain’s probably sleepy. It’s late Are you tired?

Amelia Yes. I got upset earlier for no reason and it’s made me tired I’ll go to sleep now. Thank you for texting me back. Goodnight.

Lando Norris You don’t have to thank me for that I like talking to you Feel better soon, yeah? Goodnight x

— 

The house was still, the kind of stillness that only came after a storm.

Tracy sat on the couch in the dark, legs curled beneath her, a half-cold mug of tea resting in her hands. She hadn’t moved since she’d come downstairs after leaving Amelia. The couch blanket was draped over her shoulders, but she still shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the heavy weight of witnessing her daughter’s pain. 

Zak entered quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood in the doorway, tie loose, shoulders slumped, guilt etched deep into the lines around his eyes. After a long moment, he crossed the room and sat down beside her.

Tracy didn’t look at him. Just murmured, “She’s asleep now. I checked a minute ago.”

Zak nodded slowly. “She didn’t ask for me.”

“She didn’t want to be touched. Didn’t want help. Just needed space.” Tracy’s voice cracked, but she kept it steady. “She was barely holding on, Zak. I haven’t seen her like that in a long time.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse,” he said too quickly. “I just… I thought I was protecting her.”

“I know you did,” Tracy replied gently.

Zak stared at the floor. “I didn’t think it would hurt her like this. I thought—” He faltered. “I thought keeping her away from Lando would keep things simple. Keep her safe. From getting hurt. Or confused. Or from people talking. From getting her hopes up.”

“You didn’t trust her,” Tracy said. Not accusing, just honest.

Zak exhaled hard. “No. I didn’t trust him.”

Tracy finally turned to look at him. “But he’s been good to her. You’ve seen that, surely.” 

“I have,” Zak admitted, tersely. 

“But it wasn’t on your terms,” Tracy said. “So you didn’t like it.”

Zak didn’t argue.

“She’s not a problem to solve, Zak. She’s our daughter. And she’s doing something incredibly brave. She’s opening up. She’s connecting. That’s huge for her.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “God, I know. I just…” He broke off, ran a hand through his hair. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been someone safer?”

“Because love isn’t safe,” Tracy said. “And friendship isn’t simple. And if you’re lucky enough to find someone who makes you feel okay in your skin, even just for a little while, that’s not a risk for someone like her. That’s a lifeline.”

Zak leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looked hollowed out. “I feel like I’ve completely blown it.”

“You haven’t,” Tracy said gently. “But you will if you keep pushing like this. If you keep trying to prevent something that is starting to seem pretty much inevitable.” 

Zak was quiet.

“She loves you,” Tracy added. “But she can’t keep fighting you on this. Not when she’s also fighting herself. That kind of pressure… it’ll break her.”

That landed like a stone. He blinked against the sting in his eyes and nodded, slow and tired. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Tracy leaned into him and kissed the rough edge of his jaw. “You’re a good father, Zak. She knows that. She’ll forgive you.”

Zak didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the dark hallway.

“She didn’t ask for me,” he said again, softer this time. Raw. Frayed.

Tracy sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know, honey.”

— 

The flat was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional thump of bass through the wall from the upstairs neighbours. Lando sat cross-legged on the sofa, eyes unfocused on the muted Rally Car stream playing on the TV. Max was in the kitchen, one sock on, microwaving some disastrous smelling leftover curry.

“You ever liked someone,” Lando said suddenly, not looking up, “so much that even the idea of them ruining your life doesn’t sound that bad?”

Max made a noise that landed somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Christ, mate. What brought that on?”

Lando shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve just been thinking.”

“About Amelia?” Max asked, already knowing. He padded over and dropped into the armchair opposite, bowl in his lap.

Lando exhaled slowly. “I really fucking like her. It doesn’t make sense. She’s, I mean— Jesus, I don’t know. Feels like I can breathe right around her, you know?”

Max didn’t answer right away. Just stirred the curry and watched the screen for a second. Then, gently: “Yeah. I get that. But... Come on, mate. You sure this isn’t a bit too much, too fast?”

Lando looked over. Frowned. “What do you mean?”

Max shifted, trying to find words. “It’s not just about liking someone. It’s about who she is. Like, she’s your boss’s daughter. That’s... not insignificant here.”

“I know that.” Lando bit back. 

“Okay. But do you really know what it means? If something goes wrong, if it ends, and ends messy, it’s not like you can just walk away. There’s no possibility of a clean break with her.” 

Lando was quiet, but his jaw tightened.

“I’m not trying to scare you off,” Max added quickly. “I just... I know how much you’ve worked for this. Since you were, what, six? Your whole life’s been about driving. Being the best. And now you’re closer than ever.”

“I’m not giving up racing,” Lando snapped, defensive before Max even finished.

“I didn’t say you were,” Max snapped right back at him. “I just don’t want you to stop being Lando Norris: F1 driver and become Lando Norris: the guy who fucked around with his boss’ daughter, you know?”

Lando stared down at his hands. He felt like a piece of shit as he said, “Zak’s basically said the same thing. So has my dad.”

Max nodded. “‘Cause we’re all thinking the same thing, mate.” 

Lando rubbed his hands over his face and pulled his hood up. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled. “Maybe this isn’t... good timing.”

Max didn’t say anything. He just went back to eating, quiet again.

And Lando hated that suddenly it felt like all of their reasons made sense.

— 

The air was different now. Cooler. Thinner. The sun still came through her window in the morning, but it didn’t cling to the walls the same way. The trees had started to shift, just barely, into that pre-autumn colour. And Amelia felt like she was holding her breath all the time. For something. For nothing.

She hadn’t spoken to Lando for days. Not since she'd sent him a photo of the coffee shop in town that had spelled her name wrong again, and all she got back was a laughing emoji. No reply. No question. Just that.

It felt like a door closing very slowly. 

She was sitting in the bay window of her bedroom, blanket around her shoulders, golf ball in one hand and her phone in the other. It was the fourth time she'd opened their chat and closed it again. The most recent messages sat there like ghosts. 

—

iMessage — 9:04am

Amelia Hope you’re not too tired from training. 

—

Read. Two days ago. No response.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to write that wouldn’t sound… needy. Or hurt. Or desperate. God, she hated the idea of being too much. It made her skin itch. She didn’t want to become exactly what people were always assuming that she’d be.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, her thoughts, her everything. But it hurt in a way she didn’t understand; this slow, quiet loss. It hurt in a way she didn’t have a name for. It felt a lot like emptiness.

“Don’t spiral,” she whispered to herself, rocking gently, rhythmically. “Don’t spiral. Don’t spiral.”

But it felt like she already was.

— 

Both McLaren cars DNF’d in Belgium; the first race back after the Summer break.

She’d written it down two hours before lights out — in the margin of an old notebook, under a page of technical notes she hadn’t meant to be looking at anymore. The exact reason. The probable lap. A strange little instinct that curled in her gut and told her today’s not going to go the way they want it to.

She closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer, and told herself it didn’t matter.

Nobody would ever know. Nobody would ever ask. Because she wasn’t in the garage. Wasn’t in the paddock. Wasn’t even watching from the hospitality suite like she always did, like clockwork.

She was in Woking. In her bedroom. As far from Lando’s garage, from the paddock, as she could possibly be.

And on the TV, when the Sky Sports commentator mentioned her absence like it was some small anomaly (“No sign of Amelia Brown in Norris’ McLaren garage today. Odd, considering she rarely misses a weekend”) she didn’t feel flattered or seen or missed.

She felt sick.

Like the air got thinner the second they said her name.

So she turned it off.

Just like that.

The screen went dark. The sound cut out. And for the first time in ten years, she didn’t watch the entire race.

Not because she didn’t want to. 

But because it hurt too much.

NEXT CHAPTER

[snippydippy]

While I'm still on this Tiktok thing

It is also worth noting that alongside Facebook creating a verified Tiktok page after six years of being staunch competitors, Tiktok got a few UI updates that look suspiciously similar to Facebook/Meta's features. Instagram also reformatted to make your page look like a Tiktok account a few days ago.

Meta is 100% the company who either merged with, or bought Tiktok to "save the app", and only right on time to make Trump look better.

TikTok was only down for 10 hours. Which, suspiciously again, is the amount of time it would take for a highly trafficked app to switch over servers if company hands were changed.

It did not go down because of the ban deadline. It happened early, and lasted as long as it did to distress its American users and give time for server maintenance while these changes took place.

FB's algorithm is known to have been designed to enrage you, rather than show you things you enjoy. Research has shown that being angry keeps a user engaged with an app more so than being happy.

Meta has taken this and ran with it to make sure their engagement is as high as possible.

Personal anecdote on this; I only use Facebook once every other week or so for this exact reason. The moment I go onto my timeline there, all I see are posts from the opposite political party, bad faith opinions on art I enjoy (music, shows, movies, etc), and blatant bait looking to make people argue. It's been this way for years, and why I stopped going there except to drop a drawing and life update here and there. I don't engage with my timeline because I recognized the damage it was doing to my mental health (and my blood pressure lol) a long time ago.

TikTok has worked on the opposite principle. Their algorithm is based on dopamine. It shows you things you find funny, interesting, or is related to the things you already enjoy. It keeps user retention based on enjoyment. This comes with its own set of problems, of course. Addiction and dependency can stem from this, but imo it's less damaging to a person's psyche overall than rage bait.

With Meta taking over (and I will absolutely eat my shoe live on camera if I'm wrong about this), I fear Tiktok's algorithm will change to fit what Meta does. I feel it may already be happening, with my FYP today being almost entirely about the ban/return rather than my usual artwork, edits, gaming clips & funny sketches.

We may have effectively lost Tiktok anyway with all of this.

170 million Americans is a demographic any politician of any party would literally ki11 for. If anyone doubts that everything surrounding Tiktok's ban was anything other than an elaborate plan from the beginning...idk what to tell you. It may not have gone exactly the way it was intended, but the result is the same regardless.

It's my belief that those who voted for this ban, the vast majority of which having shares in Meta, did so because it was a threat to one of their biggest financial investments. They wanted to back TikTok into a corner and force them to make a move that benefited THEIR wallets, all the American people they screwed over in the meantime be damned.

While it looked to us like Tiktok wouldn't budge and would call their bluff, taking the ban rather than selling out to an American company only to find a solution in the last moments, this was obviously not the case. They did sell. They sold to the very company most threatened by its success to Zuck's benefit, the senators and representatives with shares in his company, and to the benefit of a politician with the absolute most to gain with an abysmal approval rating, and an audience of half the country who just got a notification expressing gratitude to him for "saving" an app he actively campaigned against for four fucking years.

Taking away something you enjoy, and giving it back to earn your praise is textbook psychological manipulation.

This whole thing just fucking reeks to me, and I wish billionaires would keep their fingers out of politics, and that politicians of all kinds would stop meddling in every single fucking thing that we do.

This country is run by money, and money alone.

I'm so mad about this whole thing, man. Angrier still at the "it's just an app, stop being dramatic" takes I'm seeing on my FB timeline (aforementioned rage baiting in action lmao). It's NOT just an app. It's a platform of One Hundred and Seventy Million God Damn People that, up until this point, has been an unprecedented tool in connection and information accessibility. A platform that now runs the risk of showing half the country only what one company wants to show them based on its ideas for how the app should work, and with a bias towards political ideals like funneling content that only pushes you harder to one side or the other, maintaining and deepening the rift between political parties that benefit Meta and the reps/senators invested in it.

Yeah it's an App that shows you funny videos and dances but PLEASE I'M BEGGING FOR ONE CRUMB OF CRITICAL THOUGHT ON THE SIZE OF THIS FUCKING THING ALONE

[elviraaxen]

ive really been loving the pacing of your story and i enjoy the concept and the bits that have been released about the plot! youre doing really well, and i admire it greatly!!

ive been having trouble figuring out an overall plot in my own work, i just have character ideas and the vaguest idea for a storyline. i try to just write but then i usually end up taking a break (re: dumping it) because i don't have anymore ideas for how to complete the plot. i've laso been curious about how you go about writing for a comic (do you write then do thumbnails? do thumbnails then go back to figure out dialogue? a third thing?) so i was wondering if you had any advice or resource tips for writing? both for comics and for overarching plots, if that's okay

if you don't have any ideas tho, no worries. i was just curious. good luck with Felt World! i love everything that's coming out so far, thank you for gifting us it!!

Oh thank you so much!! I can't say I'm a comic book artist at heart because I really don't have much experience, I was only an illustrator for a short while and never wrote anything myself, but learning from past mistakes (i.e. I don't stick to plans), I've so far done this and it seems to work:

I'm one of those that don't like to plan strict layouts for the entire thing, because chances are I will not stick to it, so what I've done for felt world is just write a sketch for the overarching plot, the b-plot and c-plot, with rough estimates in what order I want the major plot points and settings to be. My current sketch looks like this;

(which is done in Miro) and as you can see there aren't that many plot points, because I want to have the wiggle room to come up with something on the spot. And also, my comic focuses a lot on interpersonal relationships, character development, and themes rather than the plot, which means it needs to be concise or else the comic is gonna take 6 million years to finish.

And now,, I think this might just be how I work, but I think it's easier to be creative when you have strict restrictions rather than all the choices in the world.

for me, personally, I restrict an update of 10 pages tops, because instagram only allows max 10 images per post! This means I have to 1) fit all I want to say in 10 pages, 2) it has to be concise or else I infodump on readers, and 3) I have to answer some sort of question within the update, or else I said nothing and I start over.

As for scripts, I tend to write one or two sentences of what's going to happen for the update, and then I get to thumb-nailing and sketching right away! I come up with most of the dialogue on the spot too.

And also, I think what's most important, is that you take your damn time! If you aren't immersing yourself in your own world, how do you expect your readers to do the same?

I'm very much a believer that the stories you are telling are something that comes to you naturally if you just sit with it and listen rather than demand that it makes itself known to you. When I brainstorm for felt world I quite literally sit in my bed and go "omg!! And then what? :0" TO MYSELF LMAO as if I'm not making everything up myself! I think that's extremely important that your story is engaging to you first and foremost!

And as for more practical tips

carry a notebook with you or use your notes app AS SOON as you get ideas to write them down! No you will not remember, lol.

set rules of what you're not allowed to do with your story so that you don't fall into lazy trope territory! You can do that when you brain storm, but finesse the story post brainstorm to just make it.. smarter.. if that makes sens For example, don't kill your gay characters, don't make sensitive men the butt of the joke, don't make your women fight over men (unless it's the point), etc.

set physical restrictions! For example, max amount of pages per upload, max amount of pages for the whole story, max amount of characters, etc.! That literally forces you to problem solve, which by definition is creativity! Like, oh you can't do this the obvious way? Do it the creative way! That's way more fun!

I could probably go on, but this is too long already! But I hope it at least helped somewhat!

[turtle-ly]

Do you have any recs for ongoing catradora fics?

asdfghjkl yes? i was about to ask you why would you want them but then i remember other ppl are not cursed like me, since one: most rec'd ongoing fics i've seen are never completed, and two: i think im cursed. My subscriptions page is a place where fics went in and almost never make it out 😔 thus i've become a lil wary of them and also less likely to subscribe even when im following it. But bc i love y'all, im gonna put a * after fics i think have little chance of updating, read them at your own risk <3

1. (an example of) the perfect candidate(*) by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor, i've read about 3 or 4 magicatra fics and most of them are oneshot, but this one is just SO promising. the sword chose catra but when had life really chosen her? shera abilities dont come easily and catra has to struggle with that. meanwhile, horde!adora has her own set of traumas and problems.

2. A Blinding Embrace(*) by Mshpiece, Tl;dr Adora's so emotionally gay she habitually turns into She-Ra when her canonical gf Catra kisses her, let's ride the hype of post s5 fluff fics babes

3. a white blank page (to write our happy ending)(*) by scarletite, hnnng im a whore for these canon divergence, catra and adora ran away from the horde on their own and got adopted by george&lance and then all of etheria, tbh it hasnt got to the etheria bit but man if this isnt my greatest hc. #LetThemHaveAFoundFamily2k21, i think about this at least thrice a month

4. a white veil occasion by aswellingstorm, technically it only has one more chapter but bc i love it and i want y'all to have nice things, read it. catra and adora meet again after being separated in the orphanage, in this one catra is basically adopted by mara&light hope (damn have i told you how much i like this hc) and is so emotionally mature, i am so proud of her <3

5. all my glory days are yours(*) by rosebudryot, author!adora and actress!catra, adora's novel got adapted to a movie and catra's the main actor :) they dont have a we-know-eachother backstory in it but im thrilled to watch this relationship grows

6. and i bloom right into you by yangaf, yea y'all know this one, famous soccer player adora and sorority catra, they met by being thirsty for eachother at uni

7. be unbroken or be brave again by RestlessWanderings, beast island au my beloved, scorpia has reasons to believe hordak killed catra and starts a resistance (homegirl i love you), and oh the grief, the all consuming grief of her and adora and everyone catra thought would never care, and the rage, how adora vows to kill hordak with her bare hands not in the name of etheria nor the rebellion (familiar? and thats before s3 even came out) i reread the whole fic to hype for the new chapter back in august and now im insane for it again

8. crowded table by themoonsneverseenmebefore, how gay are you on a scale of 1 to fixing up a house with your ex gf who you’re still in love with :)c pwease author there's only one more chapter left i believe in u, they both inherited Razz's house and are having a grand time <3

9. fickle game by emollience, friends with benefits but there's so much feelings bc how could they not? girls can you please have a clear and straightforward conversation, it's been 9 chapter

10. Knocked Flat by Levellsof, catra loses her memory in battle, she wakes up in brightmoon and they have to navigate their relationship while catra goes on treatment, does she want to remember and should she?

11. laughing till our ribs get tough (that will never be enough) by the wanderer (a_sentimental_man), Catra and Adora are soulmates who can share their thoughts and feelings with each other. It goes as well as can be expected

12. Let Forever Mean Forever (Work) by fruitsandpeachies, the second part of a series!, i love the first part where they got stuck in razz's house 1000 years in the past, and now they are back in brightmoon, a world where they can start again, no matter how rocky it might be (im not telling more bc spoilers but you should read the 1st part first!)

13. my immortal by lunchables, adora is the last chance of saving eternia, a closed off kingdom that's on the brink of extinction, and catra seems to be a ghost tied to her to the confusion of both

14. peripheries by ethiobird, catradora through other character POV, very interesting and sort of a character study in each chapter

15. pure and high affection by tox09, hehe princess and knight au go brrrr, catra's the princess and they are so gay, that's it

16. Protecting Hope by stealyourfood, gods and goddesses! damn catra looks like the only one normal in here, or does she?

17. somebody to love by chasingcrowns, i am. waiting for it to complete before continue reading okay. but i was interested since chapter 1 and you should too

20. Sound of Silence by BrightYellowBumblebee, She-ra but featuring deaf!Adora (with a She-ra caveat) and supportive!Catra and also supportive!everyone except for SW >:(

21. sweet to tongue and sound to eye by advancingambition, barking and growling and hollering, this brand of 'post s5 and adora is def not human' is MY jam. The First Ones were fair folk, and Adora is no exception, catra's still smitten tho

22. Take Me Into Your Wild Heart by V3NU5_R0S3, Catra had run away from the Horde, leaving Adora behind. The Whispering Woods guide her to the library, where she's adopted into George & Lance's family (g&l my beloveds). she and adora meet again after 5 years and im Waiting for it

23. the ghost of you by emollience, yes, another canon divergence. Adora stays with Light Hope after s1e11. years later, she goes out and is prepared , which means how could she not become someone entirely different? this is a rewrite of an old fic and i can smell from here how angstier it's gonna be

24. till our lonely limbs collide by driluth, i think there's something between me and cd fics, probably lust. A canon divergent AU where Adora chooses to stay in the portal and Angella lets her.

25. for Having Wept in the Darkness, a series by Lycaonpictus77, canon divergence, ...i have no excuse for this. things could have gone as it had been post s2 but BAM, time travel catra says no and decides catradora should be gay much sooner, adora still hasnt got the hint :/ girl why

Anyway y'all should combine brainwave and send telepathic wave that makes authors update with me :) pwease dont let my bad karma got in the way of this

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[remywrites5]

           Remus looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He really needed to get more sleep, the bags under his eyes had taken up permanent residence there, and his roots were starting to come in. He spat into the sink and then rinsed his toothbrush off. When he glanced back up at himself, there was the same harrowing reflection staring back. He needed to at least re-dye his hair pink or else pick a different colour.

           He’d dyed it pink on a whim after his last breakup. He thought maybe going from his usual tawny curls to something else would make him more exciting, more cheerful, more something. “Why are you never smiling?” Benjy had asked Remus all the time. As if Remus should just constantly be smiling like some kind of insane person.

           Remus walked over to his desk and flopped into his rolling chair. He sat with one leg bent up towards his chest and hunched over his tablet. The thing was so old it was practically a dinosaur. The program he used to draw on was always crashing – causing Remus to do almost constant saving. Drawing web comics wasn’t exactly the most lucrative use of his art degree, but it paid the bills.

           There was some sort of ungodly sound outside and then the distinct clatter of something breaking. Remus jumped to his feet in surprise, wondering if someone had climbed up to his flat to murder him. Two shadows appeared at his door and then one of them knocked. Well, if they were murderers, they were of the polite variety.

           Remus walked over tentatively, his pen for his tablet still in his hand as his only means of defense. He figured at the least maybe he could poke a few eyes.

           “I don’t think anyone is home.”

           “He has to be home. I haven’t seen him leave the house in days.”

           “Hmm, paying close attention, are we?”

           “Shut up, Jamie.”

           “Ow!”

           Confused, Remus opened the door to find two guys standing on the other side. The dark-skinned one with glasses immediately smiled, while the pale one with long dark hair kept his face neutral.

           “Hiya! I’m James and this is Sirius,” James said, moving what was in his hand so that he could wave. “We run the bakery downstairs. We just came to introduce ourselves and bring you these!”

           Remus took the container when James offered it, still a little bit stunned by the whole thing, and opened it up. Inside was an assortment of baked goods. “Oh. Thank you,” Remus said, a little bit at a loss for words. “This is really nice.”

           Remus was suddenly struck by the fact that two very attractive men were on his doorstep and Remus was wearing the same hoodie he’d worn for three days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on deodorant. Embarrassed beyond belief, Remus felt his cheeks flush.

           “Aren’t you going to say anything?” James prompted his friend, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder.

           “Hi,” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

           Remus swallowed thickly and quickly put the container of goodies down. He didn’t trust his shaking hands not to drop them. “Nice to meet you.”

           “Whoa, are you an artist?” James asked, noticing the pen in Remus’ hand. “Do you think you could design something for us?”

           “James, don’t impose,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

           “I’m not imposing!” James insisted, turning and shooting Sirius a look. “We’ll pay for the work. It’s just right now our menus are so bland! They don’t really say ‘Padfoot and Prongs’ Patisserie.”

           “That’s a fancy name,” Remus said, tucking the pen behind his ear so that he could shove his hands in his pockets. Suddenly they’d gotten all sweaty.

           “Yeah well, this wanker is half French, so he wouldn’t let me call it a pastry shop,” James said teasingly. “By the way, you haven’t told us your name.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, realizing that James was right. He shuffled his feet slightly and kind of wished James and Sirius would leave. He hadn’t had such a long social interaction in months. This was getting to be a bit much, and James’ enthusiasm was draining. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

           “So do you think you can design something for our menus?” James asked excitedly, his hazel eyes big behind his glasses.

           “Um, sure, I’ll take a stab at it,” Remus offered, even though he kind of didn’t want to. He had deadlines to meet and he was already a little behind. But then James and Sirius had brought him baked goods without having even met Remus before. Besides, how hard could designing a menu be?

           “Great!” James said, slapping Sirius on the back. “Isn’t that great, Padfoot?”

           Sirius sighed. “Sure is.”

           Remus pulled out his wallet and handed James one of his business cards. It had been Benjy’s idea that Remus get them. This was only the second Remus had even given out. The first one had been given the Benjy. What a waste of money.

           “My email is at the bottom,” Remus explained, pointing to it on the card. “Just send me the details of what you want and I’ll work something up.”

           Sirius tilted his head to the side. “What are your rates?”

           “Um…” Fuck, Remus hadn’t exactly thought about it. He knew what he charged per page on his web comic but this was completely different. “How about you just, um, let me get a free baked good from time to time and we’ll call it even?”

           “Of course!” James said, nodding emphatically.

           “Hold on,” Sirius interjected, putting his hand up to stop James. “For the rest of time you want free shit from us? Just for a doodle?”

           “Sirius –“ James cut in, his face slightly aghast at his friend’s harsh tone.

           “I – I won’t abuse it or anything,” Remus said, feeling his face heat. Christ, the way Sirius was looking at him made him nervous. “It won’t be every day or anything like that.”

           Sirius huffed and turned his face away. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cut you off.”

           “Okay.”

           “Perfect,” James said, tugging on Sirius’ arm. “We should get back downstairs. We’ve still got a lot to do before we open. I’ll email you later, Remus!”

           “Sounds good,” Remus said, waving after them as they started down the fire escape. The moment he closed the door, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He didn’t know what Sirius’ problem was, but the fewer interactions Remus had with him the better.

                                                           ***

           Remus finished up the latest update for his comic and sat back with a groan. It was already 10:30 at night and Remus hadn’t had any dinner. For once he had been in a good flow and hadn’t wanted to stop. Now his stomach was so empty it hurt. He couldn’t remember eating breakfast either.

           He walked over to where he had left the baked good James had dropped off and carried the container into bed. He sat munching on them as he scrolled through his phone. He had eaten about half of them when he remembered James was supposed to contact him. He pulled up his email and sure enough there was a message from James Potter.

           Apparently they wanted something kind of classy involving a buck and a black dog. Remus was intrigued, and popped a custard crème into his mouth. Their stuff really was mouth-wateringly good. Remus was glad he had asked for pastries instead of cash. While he could use the money, he tended to live on instant noodles and bacon sandwiches. Having something from the bakery from time to time would be a real treat.

                                                           ***

           Remus’ flat was on the top floor of the building and it meant he had almost exclusive rooftop access. He hadn’t done much with it except put out a table and two chairs. He really only went out there to smoke anyway. He stood by the side of the roof with his elbows on the ledge, watching the street below, his cigarette resting between his lips.

           Sirius exited the bakery and walked down the side alley of the building. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Remus felt himself tracking Sirius with his eyes, even though he didn’t mean to.

           “Damn it, Reg, I already told you –“ Sirius seemed to be cut off by the other person on the phone. “I don’t care if they cut me off. I’m not going on a blind date that my mum set up with a woman! I haven’t lived in that house for five years and she still thinks she can control me. Now she’s even roping you into it.”

           Remus felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but the street was relatively quiet at that time of day, so it was difficult not to hear. Remus wondered why Sirius had said woman like that, as if he were offended by being set up with someone female. Remus didn’t want to get his hopes up that Sirius might also be gay. Thinking that was a dangerous route to go down. He tried to finish up his cigarette and go back inside before he was spotted, but it seemed Sirius was done with his conversation. He dropped his phone by his side and looked up at the sky. His eyes seemed to immediately land on Remus and Remus felt his cheeks heat up in response. He took a slow drag of his ciggy and let it out, letting his eyes drift away as if he hadn’t just been staring.

           He wasn’t wholly surprised when he heard footsteps making their way up the fire escape. He finished his cigarette and lit another one. He usually didn’t chain smoke like this, considering all the nicotine often made him dizzy, due to how little he ate most days. He turned when Sirius made it onto the roof and somehow managed to meet Sirius’ accusing stare.

           “How much of that did you hear?” Sirius asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

           Remus scratched his cheek with his free hand. “Uh, the whole thing?”

           Sirius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Can I bum one of those?”

           Remus opened the pack and shook one out towards Sirius. Sirius slid it between his lips and leaned in when Remus flicked the lighter to light it. Remus hadn’t noticed it the first time they met, but Sirius had grey eyes. Remus had never seen someone with eyes like that before.

           Remus had no idea what to say, so he just continued smoking, watching Sirius out of his peripheral vision. It was a little awkward, but not unbearably so, and it seemed Sirius was happy to smoke in silence. Sirius’ apron was covered in flour, and what Remus hoped was jam of some kind. not something more nefarious based on its red colour. The last thing he needed was a Sweeney Todd situation in his building.

           Remus and Sirius finished their cigarettes at the same time and both killed them in the ashtray. They were standing so close, should to shoulder, and Remus had no idea why that made his heart race. He turned towards Sirius in order to say his goodbyes, and suddenly Sirius was even closer.

           “Well, I should –“

           Remus didn’t finish that sentence as Sirius was leaning in. He was moving with intent and his lips just barely brushed against Remus’. Remus gasped, the sound getting swallowed up as Sirius’ lips pressed more firmly against Remus’. Remus let himself enjoy it for a moment, Christ, it had been so long since he’d kissed someone, before he brought himself back to his sense.

           “What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing Sirius away.

           Sirius’ eyes searched Remus’ for a moment and then he took another step back. “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse.”

           Remus grinned as he watched Sirius flounder for a moment. He decided to let Sirius off the hook. It was just a little kiss after all. “Hey, I’m almost done with the menu design. Do you want to see it?”

           The tension in Sirius’ shoulders ebbed at Remus’ offer. “Yeah, sure.”

           Remus told Sirius to sit down at the little table while Remus went inside to get his tablet. He brought it out and sat down across from Sirius. He opened up the menu design and placed it in front of Sirus. He was actually a little nervous as Sirius looked it over. It was a buck and a dog running through a forest surrounded by berry bushes. James had explained in the email that their homemade jam was a huge selling point for them and they wanted the menu to emphasize that.

           “It’s not too dark, is it?” Remus asked, chewing his bottom lip.

           “No, I think it’s perfect.” Sirius glanced up, and for the first time Remus had seen, Sirius smiled. “We’re doing a soft opening in two days. You should come.”

           “Will I have to pay?” Remus teased, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sirius.

           Sirius laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to pay. What kind of pastry do you like best? I’ll make it for you.”

           Remus considered it for a moment. “Jammy dodgers.”

           Sirius’ grin widened. “You got it.”

                                                             ***

           Remus went to the soft opening, even though he hadn’t been around that many people in a while, and it put his social anxiety through the roof. He met James’ wife, Lily, and their son, Harry. He also met quite a few of James and Sirius’ closest friends. Even though everyone was very nice, Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit like an outsider.

           However, Remus didn’t miss the way that his jammy dodgers seemed to be the only ones with little hearts in the middle. That knowledge alone was enough to make him stick around.

                                                           ***

           Remus was in trouble. His web comic was about a werewolf and a vampire that fell in love with each other. The werewolf character struck a striking resemblance to Remus, although the character had Remus’ original hair colour. The idea had come to him based on his name. The vampire character, however, had short dark hair and red eyes. Yet, whenever Remus found himself drawing him, his hair seemed to be getting progressively longer for no discernable reason and his eyes seemed to be grey.

           It didn’t help that Remus saw Sirius pretty much every day. During his lunch break, Sirius would bring up something from the bakery, and they would sit together at the little table and eat and smoke. Remus had gotten to know Sirius, little by little, cracking away at Sirius’ shell to the gooey center underneath. Despite his first impression of Sirius, and his original cold exterior, Remus found the man himself was mushy and romantic and sweet.

           Remus told Sirius about the fact that he’d always meant to make a little rooftop garden, but as of yet hadn’t really gotten around to buying any plants. Sirius showed up the next day with a little tree.

           “It’s called Dogwood,” he’d said with a knowing grin. He had continued to buy Remus several flowers and plants since then. He’d even brought some herbs for cooking, even though Remus insisted he didn’t really cook. Every time Sirius and Remus found a place for the new plant, Sirius would get that same smile. A smile that had started to cause butterflies in Remus’ stomach.

           There was no talk about the conversation Remus had overheard or of the kiss they’d shared. Remus figured both topics were off limits.

           Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get Sirius out of his head.

                                                           ***

           Remus dropped his head back and groaned. “I told you if you didn’t stop me I would eat all six éclairs.”

           “An impressive feat,” Sirius said, grinning behind his wine glass as he took a sip.

           “I hate you,” Remus said, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was starting to sweat a bit from overeating. “I’m going to put on so much weight.”

           “You could use some more meat on your bones,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “You barely eat as it is.”

           “I was right, this is a Sweeney Todd situation, you’re fattening me up to put me in a pie,” Remus bemoaned, clutching his stomach. That last éclair had really done him in.

           “We don’t even serve meat pies at the bakery,” Sirius said in amusement. “I think you’re safe.”

           “I’m not buying it,” Remus said, staring at Sirius accusingly. “Why else would you bring me all these sweets?”

           Sirius glanced away, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “For an excuse to come see you.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Really?”

           Sirius stood up and walked over to Remus, placing his hand on the back of Remus’ chair, and leaning into him. “So, I made a mess of our first kiss. Think you might let me try again?”

           “Um.” Remus stared up at Sirius and let out a shaky breath. “Yes. W-we can do that.”

           Sirius slid his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand came to rest at the back of Remus’ head. Then he guided their lips together into a soft kiss. Remus opened his mouth first, and Sirius was quick to follow suit, their tongues meeting in a mixture of chocolate, wine and cigarettes. Remus eagerly chased the taste from Sirius’ mouth.

           Sirius pulled back after a few life-altering moments. Remus felt his eyes flutter open to find that Sirius was smiling at him. God, Remus loved it when Sirius smiled. “I could eat you up, I really could,” Sirius sang softly.

           Remus busted out laughing. “Do not sing Sweeney Todd at me when you’re trying to be romantic.”

           Sirius chuckled and pulled Remus up into a hug. “Noted. Should I just tell you I love you then?”

           Remus hugged Sirius back, burying his face in Sirius’ neck, ignoring the deep blush currently on his face. “I-I think that would work.”

           “Well?” Sirius asked expectantly, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead.

           Remus hugged Sirius tighter. “I love you too.”

           Remus stood there, in a moment so like a fairy tale that he didn’t want it to end, wishing he could freeze time. He stood in the moonlight, embracing the man he had come to adore, surrounded by all the plants Sirius had bought just for him. It felt like more than Remus deserved, but he wasn’t about to let it go. He could only hope the next moment would be just as sweet.  

[itsclydebitches]

I've never played WOW, but my friends into it. I might as well try. Any advice for someone who's never touched a MMO?

Oh, fun question! It’s actually hard for me to think of things I’d have wanted to know when starting out because I started playing MMOs around age... 9? So in some respects I grew up alongside the genre, rather than trying to learn it after the fact, but some things I’d highlight about WoW now is:

Don’t worry about your race/class. There is SO MUCH about the “right” and “wrong” way to create a character, but at the end of the day you should choose whatever interests and appeals to you most. The caveat to that is that picking a tank or a healer class will put a bit more responsibility on your shoulders  — whether you like it or not at times  — so just be aware of that. Some people like taking on a specific role, others (me) do not. There are also classes that are better suited to soloing as much of the game as possible, if that’s something you’re interested in. 

Regardless, you will have to play with others eventually. If your friends are already into WoW it sounds like you have a good community/potential guild to turn to, but I’d recommend waiting until you feel confident in playing your character before entering groups with strangers. Frankly, the WoW community can be pretty damn toxic. I’m no expert, but I’ve played it long enough to feel confident in my abilities and I’m still cursed out by pissed off dungeon groups if we wipe. Raids will expect you to have learned the fights via youtube prior to coming in and when many inevitably haven’t (because it’s a game and homework shouldn’t be required lol) they’ll start yelling too. PvP is just a mess of accusations and slurs, depending on how badly it’s going... so yeah. I don’t want to make it sound like WoW is made up of nothing but assholes, but there are enough to make an impression. It’s something to avoid if you’re not feeling up to it, but given how much of the later content requires working with others, wait until you’re geared, have a good handle on your class, and are in a good head space before diving in. Or stick to playing with friends. 

Speaking of friends, if you do want to play with them I’d recommend picking their faction (Horde or Alliance). That will allow you to visit each other in major cities, help with the same quests, queue up for activities together, etc. Though the story has moved away from the Horde vs. Alliance rivalry recently, the gameplay still very much divides them. 

Check out everything you can (without getting too overwhelmed!) WoW has a LOT going on and while very little is required, much of it is beneficial while also being easy to miss, just by virtue of there being so much to do. Pick up any quests you find, explore as much of the world as you can, talk to NPCs, save the loot you get, etc. You can always get rid of something  — drop a quest, destroy/sell an item  — but it’s a bummer if you just go and sell everything only to realize you actually needed all that stuff for something else. So go slow and check out your options before making decisions. 

To help with that, I recommend WoWhead and Icy Veins for info, or just good old-fashioned plugging the thing into google with “wow” next to it. How often do I look stuff up? Constantly. MMOs don’t have cheating culture the way a single-player game might (I mean, there’s absolutely cheating, just not in the same way), so don’t be afraid to just google anything and everything you want. The comment sections of a page are your best friend. Whereas the official description may give you an overwhelming amount of information you don’t actually need, player comments tend to focus on what others really want to know: here’s where to find this NPC, yes this quest is bugged, make sure you do X before Y, etc. WoW has become a lot more accessible over the years in terms of helping players figure things out, but it’s still confusing at times, so make use of any resource you please. 

Another “cheat” is to use addons. I’d recommend grabbing WoWMatrix which will allow you to (safely) download addons without any of the hassle of putting it in the correct folders. I’d recommend Bagnon (makes all your bags open as a single window so you can see all your loot at once), Bartender (allows you to customize your action bar), Coordinates (puts a tiny, movable coordinates button on your screen which is basically necessary at this point to find things. Players will almost always provide coordinates when giving locations), HandyNotes (provides lots of info on your map, like how you go about summoning a rare mob), Pawn (helps you compare gear to see what’s best for your class/specialization), and if you do any PvP, Healers Have to Die, or HHTD, which marks all healers with a cross so they’re easy to spot in battle (always kill healers first! :D). WoWMatrix is SUPER easy to use  — just search for the addons you want via the application, download them, delete if you don’t like ‘em, and open it once in a while to “Update All” — and the various addons you can use are an absolute godsend. They make playing the base game that much better. 

If you’re someone invested in the story side of games, lore is going to be very weird here, just because WoW is 16 years old and you’ll be entering into the 8th expansion. I’ve played WoW since it came out and I don’t know wtf is going on a lot of the time lol. So just roll with it, or if you’re interested, make use of wikis, the novels, etc. But it’s not the sort of game where you’re in trouble if you have no idea who this person is or what battle they’re talking about. Just accept whatever they want you to do and pick up the story wherever you came in. 

You’re going to die a lot. A lot, a lot. That’s fine, everyone does. Again, not the sort of game where that’s a problem. Just know that you can either return to your corpse (flying there as a ghost) or rez at the graveyard you appear in if you’re willing to deal with a bad debuff for like 10 minutes. Also, all armor has durability that goes down over time, but it goes down faster the more you die, so you’ll want to repair (finding an NPC with the anvil icon) soon afterwards. 

There’s lots of little things to learn like that: a brown bag icon means you can sell to this person, blue exclamation marks are quests that will reappear daily, items with a gray name (as opposed to white, green, blue, or purple) are pretty much just junk and you can always sell them... there’s a lot. Pick things up as you go, keeping in mind that you’ll be given SO MUCH INFORMATION and no, you’re not going to learn it all at once. Part of the fun is figuring stuff out and seeing yourself improve. Feel free to ask questions too (there’s a chat box and you can speak to an entire zone at once), though frankly it’s a 50/50 chance whether someone will give an actual answer, or just roast you lol 

If you ever want to play “seriously,” I’d kinda recommend learning WoW with keybinding early on  — AKA, creating button shortcuts for various spells/skills so your mouse is only used for camera movement and targeting, rather than wasting time looking for the action you want to click on. I say “kinda” because I don’t do that. At this point my click method is too ingrained in my muscle memory for anything else, but I recognize that I’m in the minority for saying that’s an “okay” way to play. 

Anything is okay though. Do whatever. I mean, the above aside, literally my best advice is to just throw yourself headfirst into the game, accept that you’re going to mess so much up, shrug, and have fun with it. I spent an hour of my life running a Tourghast floor today... and then wasn’t able to beat the final boss. So I “wasted” that time since I didn’t get the loot, but who cares? It was fun! Literally do whatever and don’t let any of the assholes get to you. Someone sends a message you don’t like? Block them (right click their name in the chat box to get the option). Group is making you uncomfortable? Leave. Don’t know how to do something? Google it! The best thing about an MMO is also the most overwhelming: it’s a whole world with (almost) endless options, so though that freedom is exciting, it also means you have to curate your own experience. It’s a bit like being here on tumblr. Figure out all the nuances at you own pace, lurk as long as you’d like, and if someone is being annoying, google how to keep them out of your inbox. 

Idk how helpful any of these tips are, but I hope you enjoy it!! 😊

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

do you have any spicy hot takes you wanna drop 👀👀?? i will drop one as well, i think that everyone got carried away with the whole sympathetic and unsympathetic stuff -💫

okay so i read the first sentence and i was like ‘fuck yes time to talk about the sympathetic/unsympathetic thing’ and then i read the rest of it and yeah okay so we’re on the same page here. i have a feeling this is going to get extensive so if you don’t want to hear me complaining about stuff that you may or may not like don’t go reading under the cut. Also it's not going to be very coherent

disclaimer: i am not trying to police the fandom or trying to tell anyone that they can’t write stuff. i do my best to stay in my lane and read/consume content that i want to. these are just. feelings i have.

so on the one hand i sort of understand where the whole concept sprung from. it’s hard to write interesting longform stories without a villain of some sort, it’s not as if there’s all that many characters in the first place, and sometimes using the Dragon Witch doesn’t quite cut it. and honestly if you take away the whole ‘they’re all part of the same person’ thing it would’ve been pretty easy to assume that Deceit was the bad guy when he first showed up. he went the whole ‘ominous smirking, evil laughter’ route because he’s a dramatic little bastard, and some people were like 'my son, I love him' and others went 'evil man! Evil! He's planning bad things' and on a purely mechanical level having tags that distinguish people who think a character is good vs people who think a character is evil is a good thing, it helps you distinguish content you want to look at from the content that you don't!

HOWEVER. I think the idea of characters being 'sympathetic' or 'unsympathetic' in the way that this fandom uses those terms is innately flawed. It's black-and-white thinking and it veers close to the whole puritan thing that tumblr is so fond of. And in most cases 'unsympathetic' is just an excuse to write characters as toxic, abusive, and just downright cruel without having to explain yourself. Which is. Hm. And also just lazy writing.

This bit might be tmi but: Patton actually used to be my favorite Sanders Sides character. But back when i initially got into the fandom, I hadn't quite worked out how to filter the content I looked through yet, and I just kept seeing this... constant stream of stuff involving him being abusive to the others in a way that was hm how shall i say this. Uncomfortably familiar. especially with a lot of religious guilt themes. It's not anyone's fault, precisely, but it did tinge a lot of my fandom experience, and it maaaay be why i'm not great at writing him. Doesn't matter. The point is... There wasn't a point. I'm just still bitter about that and wanted to mention it. Maybe i'm angrier about this than i thought i was. Let's not talk about that. Let's move on with this discussion.

You'll notice that i used Janus as an example up there at the top. I can't be sure (and actually it grimly fascinates me so if anybody who's been around here longer than I have has any info on this send it over, I'd love to know) but I think that Deceit's appearance in CLBG may have marked the beginning of this whole unsympathetic/sympathetic split in the fandom. It seems a safe enough bet, anyway, especially since the earliest example I can find of any fic being tagged 'unsympathetic' in the AO3 archive is from 4th February 2018, literally the day after CLBG went up. (damn, guys, moving fast). 

The first occurrences of the 'sympathetic' tag crop up about a month later. Tumblr is impossible to search so I don't know if there was any discussion about terms, or if it was just a kind of snowball effect with people seeing the tags and tagging their own fics as appropriate (and this is a fascinating phenomena in itself!) but either way - i have absolutely no idea what happened to make people go from 'we're divided on whether this character who presents himself a villain is actually doing bad and detrimental things to the other sides/thomas/the world as a whole/innocent puppies' to 'hang on what if the other sides were kicking puppies also?'

So now this has turned from a rant about terminology into me being genuinely curious about this whole thing. I will put the rant on pause while I go scour AO3 to see when the first occurrences of the tags popped up. Please hold.

Okay. I'm going to ignore the unsympathetic tags for anyone who's not a side because i don't hate myself nearly that much (but uh for the record. There is a part of this fandom that thinks the LITERAL CONCEPT OF SLEEP IS EVIL and i'm not sure if i should be impressed or horrified. What? What???)

All of these numbers are up-to-date as of 17/06/2020, which is when I'm posting this. I'm probably not going to update that, so keep that in mind if you're reading this in the future.

In order of chronological appearance:

Unsympathetic Janus ('Deceit' at the time, of course) - first appears 12 March 2018, 191 works Unsympathetic Roman - first appears 10 February 2019, 102 works Unsympathetic Logan - first appears 24 June 2019, 59 works Unsympathetic Patton - first appears 2 July 2019, 228 works Unsympathetic Remus - first appears 17 July, 2019, 121 works Unsympathetic Virgil - first appears 31 July 2019, 71 works

...I genuinely don't know what I expected.

The fandom was much slower to spark with Unsympathetic Remus content after he first showed up, which is kind of interesting. Unless they just didn't bother to tag it? Like, I'm working with the assumption that everyone's tagging all of their content, which might not always be the case

I thought there'd be so much more Janus and Remus-tagged fics than there actually are.

It does not surprise me that Patton has the most in this category. It makes me sad but it doesn't surprise me. Why are you guys so intent on making him evil

And on the opposite side of the sympathy spectrum (similarly chronological):

Sympathetic Janus - first appears 7 March 2018, 1920 works Sympathetic Remus - first appears 2 July 2019, 965 works Sympathetic Patton - first appears 31 July 2019, 71 works Sympathetic Virgil - first appears 1 August 2019, 69 works (nice) Sympathetic Logan - first appears 8 August 2019, 41 works Sympathetic Roman - first appears 20 August, 56 works

It's actually wild that 'Sympathetic [Janus]' seems to have appeared several days between Unsympathetic Jan made any appearance.

There were several Remus fics that were backtagged to before DWIT was released. I ignored them because it was throwing this off a bit. there may be other problems to this effect in any of the other stats, but i’m too lazy to go back and check those all one-by-one

Sympathetic tags in general seem to be used as, hm, there's a word here i can't quite think of. Basically, 'Sympathetic' seems to be the default setting for characters like Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan (the 'Light Sides', although i take issue with that terms as well. This isn't the time for that, though. Statistics!!) which 'Unsympathetic' used to be the default for Janus and Remus. That's become slightly more elastic of late, though. Basically if you're using the Sympathetic tag for anyone who's not a 'Dark Side' you're usually doing it to make a point of something. e.g. if you have other sides who aren't usually unsympathetic as such and you're trying to clarify that yes, these specific ones are Okay. Or if you're just being thorough. Anyway that's why LAMP seem to have less works tagged as Symp than the other two.

All the sympathetic tags for non-Janus characters seem to have sprung up in quick succession over a short period of months! I have no idea what this means but it's strange and cool to look at

If you're wondering about the discrepancy between this information and my earlier note that the first appearance of 'unsympathetic' as an AO3 tag was the day after CLBG came out - that fic in question had a general 'unsympathetic dark sides' tag, no specific tags mentioned.

Okay statistics segue over. The only point of that apart from scientific curiosity was to try to puzzle out where the fuck this all stemmed from. I still have no answers.

I need you all to understand that 'Sympathetic' no longer looks like a real word to me.

So. Remember how i mentioned how this fandom managed to make unsympathetic!Remy/Sleep a thing? Yeah. That baffles me. I haven't seen unsympathetic Dr Picani anywhere yet but I know it's only a matter of time and that lowkey horrifies me. But that's not really the most baffling thing because, uh

Well. earlier this week I accidentally stumbled into a corner of tumblr that's dedicated to unsympathetic character Thomas content. If you're a fan of that, i'd advise you to click away from this post now because i'm about to get very angry about that and i don't want to make you upset. Thank you.

What the fuck. literally all of the posts in this corner of tumblr are about c!thomas abusing the sides and being a terrible person??? ??????? ????? WHAT? can we just take a step back and. WHY? WHY are you doing this? Are we watching the same show? from a psychological standpoint, that's self-abuse and self-harm and i suppose it might be interesting if you explored it as such but APPARENTLY NO. apparently that's not what this is about. This is just about writing about someone being abusive to other people for the sake of it. there were so many posts about him 'abusing the sides by telling them they're not real people' and. OKAY so a) he wouldn't do that b) THEY AREN'T. THEY LITERALLY AREN'T REAL PEOPLE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

[deep breath]

so actually i think that kind of leads me back to the point of this whole thing.  I had a point, what? It surprises me too, don't worry. The point is (roughly) that writing characters as 'unsympathetic' isn't something that i have an objection to at all. Everybody has the capacity to be cruel! Nobody's perfect!! But with the sympathetic/un labels it seems to enforce this strict dichotomy of good vs bad. Either Logan is an abusive monster OR he's a perfect angel. Guys. That's not how it works. And it's not INTERESTING if you do that sort of thing because then you've got people being unnecessarily cruel and evil for the sake of it. They turn into 2-dimensional caricatures that only exist to be bad people. 

People make mistakes! I write about characters making mistakes all the time! Janus and Remus pulling the whole trolley problem thing in Pick A Side definitely wasn't a great thing for them to do, but I didn't tag them as unsympathetic at the time and i have no plan to do so because i don't want to write them as two-dimensional caricatures who are only capable of one of two settings on the morality meter.  (same goes for the next chapter, whenever that comes up but... let’s talk about that when i post it, maybe)That's boring. If you're going to take characters and make them into antagonists just because you can't think of anyone else to fit the role, and you're doing it by stripping away everything that makes them Them, then you might as well just stuff a paper bag with straw and cast a scarecrow as the villain instead because buddy. You're making a strawman. That's what you're doing. You can't have Patton without kindness and well-meaningness, just as you can't have Patton without the mistakes caused by those two things. Same goes for the other sides and their flaws and strengths.

And then there's the other thing that's definitely more specific to this fandom, which I think was best summarized with something i said in the comments section of Pick A Side with len at like ten minutes past midnight that one time:

(...) and not necessarily related to anything you said, but - this fandom is kind of unique in that... there's no actual bad guys or villains. (at least that's how i perceive it.) The Real Villain Is Your Poor Mental Health. people are always like 'unsympathetic deceit' or 'unsympathetic patton' and point to different points in the videos as evidence, ('i give you permission to think those thoughts' patton's being controlling - that's abuse) but like. it's all the same guy. he's giving himself permission. he's doing it to himself. imagine if we tagged other fandom characters with like 'Unsympathetic Harry Potter' when he was being mean or critical to himself. wild.

 So yeah. In conclusion: obviously people should write what they like. If they see characters one way and they want to write about them being two-dimensional monsters that's fine. I kind of wish you'd put more thought into it and make it at least interesting if you're going to do that sort of thing, but you do you i guess.

That being said. If I see any more unsympathetic!Patton content I will start crying. i want to love Goofy Dad Man the same way i used to 

[halberdierminister]

Okay I set meself some new goals for the new year. How have I been keeping up with them?

1) Write 250 Words Each Day

I have missed a couple days this month, but I have certainly written more than the equivalent of 250 words times 31 days. So while I did have some misses, I more than made up for them. This one is both a hit and a miss, but far more hit than miss. I am mostly on track with this goal.

2) Read At Least 55 Books This Year

If we are counting audiobooks, which we ABSOLUTELY ARE, I have finished ten books this month and am close to finishing two more. If I keep up this kind of pace, I will have met my goal by midyear. We will see if that happens, but I am very well on track with this goal.

3) Get A Full Time Job

I have not done this yet. But I did work two jobs all month with a grand total of two days off. I applied for 24 different jobs this month. This doesn't quite equal out to one job per day, and I certainly didn't do this every day, but that's a fair amount of effort. I worked a lot and I worked on the job search a lot. I've also edited my resume, worked on making a brand new one, and designed my own business cards. I think I am making some progress on this but it is just so hard to tell. I am working on this goal, but I do not know if I am on track.

4) Move Out

Yeah obviously this hasn't happened yet. Kiel and Steph have offered to let me move in with them in Milwaukee if I need to or if I get something there. It's so tempting to take them up on it. I might if I have no leads on the job search by the end of March, but both Kiel and I agree that this winds up with the risk that I just get stuck working at Target again. It's so difficult. And yet today, when my parents were out of the house, I hooked up my Nintendo Switch to the television and just played some video games and I also took out my ukulele and sang some dumb songs and I just felt like myself for the first time in a while, and God I just miss that so damn much. I wanna move out so fucking badly it hurts. Ugh. I will get there. I just need the full time job first. I do not know if I am on track.

5) Drink Less Soda

Well, I drank less soda. I didn't cut out soda altogether, but at least half the days, or maybe even most of the days, I didn't have any soda at all. And the days I had soda, I'm pretty sure I limited it to one, except maybe once or twice when it was two. But by and large I am still cutting down on soda. So that's good. I'm not losing weight, but that's probably because I'm not working physically anymore like I was at Target. The last two days I lifted weights, maybe I'll work out more? Either way, I just needed to cut down on soda, and by gum, I have been doing that. I am on track with this goal.

6) Get Something Published

I am going to be published in Eclipse, a fanzine based on Problem Sleuth the Intermissions of Homestuck. I finished the first draft of my fic for it this year. I also found a zine I might want to send some stuff to tonight, and I still intend to send stuff into The Green Light and Red Cedar. I don't know if I have anything good enough for Steam Ticket, but who knows? I should also submit to more places, and I have been bookmarking pages that have promising listings. I am mildly on track with this goal, but I ought to put more into it.

7) Finish Writing A Legitimate Businessman

I have written 6,654 words on this fic in this month alone. This is the most frequently I have ever updated it. It is not finished, but with every update I near the ending. Some of the endings have been as short as two or three hundred words, most have been around six or seven hundred, but at least one was fifteen hundred words, making it the longest chapter written in years. I am on track with this goal.

8) Write More The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin

I have not written ANYTHING on this fic this month. I did listen to some Lovecraft on audiobook and I've been reading a lot of poetry, so I'm gaining fuel I suppose, but I am not on track.

MINOR GOALS

9) Finish Playthroughs Of:

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild -- Success! I beat it on accident and started a new one. So this one is COMPLETED.

Persona 3 Portable 100%: I am on the last day or two. I tried fighting Margaret once this month and got royally scuppered up the barrelstopper. These sorts of super-hard turn-based battles are literally not fun. I also don't have any Armageddons and I don't know if it's possible to beat Margaret or Elizabeth without them. I don't know if it's worth it to try, but I also don't know if I shouldn't beat this and start a new game plus again. It's just……. I'm literally these two boss fights away from 100%, and I've NEVER gotten this close before. Guh. What I really need is Armageddon though. Sigh. Who knows.

Persona 1 Good Ending: Yeah I don't think I picked this up at all this month.

Pokemon Sword: I have beaten the main game and am partially through the post-game plot. It's just kinda boring at this point, but I will beat it I'm sure.

Pokemon Let's Go Eevee: I haven't picked this up this year, but I plan to. It's a fun little game. I'm at Cinnabar Island, so I'm pretty close to the end.

10) Record More Ukulele Videos

I played my ukulele a lot today?? I tried recording a song but didn't like it. I'm working on some stuff though, so I'm not doing this yet but I am at least getting started on practicing and planning

11) Record Let's Play Videos

Not even a little bit.

12) Duolingo?

I've done Spanish on Duolingo every day for 33 days straight. SUCK IT, Me from 2008.

GOALS I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD

13) Set up my turntable and listened to records on my own.

14) Added to my collections of books, amiibos, video games and movies, often in unexpected ways and sometimes at large amounts for little money. And sometimes not. Whoops. I cannot be trusted with money. Ugh.

15) Work out?? I have done so a little bit two days in a row. Maybe I can keep this up and do more. I ought to, since I'm not at Target anymore, and since I won't be at MATC for the time being I will have more free time to do so. It's worth a shot.

So I'm doing pretty well on the ones I can keep track of. I'm not doing PERFECT, but I do think I am doing really well.

This is 1250 words, by the way.

[diss0nant-perception]

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[fursasaida]

in a wild twist, instead of just to-do listing i am retroactively to-do listing because for some reason i feel a desire to lay out everything i’ve done in the past few weeks as well as what i still have to do. i assume this is a processing thing. go about your business as usual

between 8/8 and 9/4:

go to maine

allow myself to be celebrated by extended family

change travel plans to drive to boston with parents

work out plans with boston friends

return to NYC

email new student buddy

buy plane tickets to CA

buy train tickets to DC

buy some decent new clothes for the first time in like 9 years so that i might hope for a shred of credibility as a teacher

buy something to wear to wedding #1

phone call with advisor about exam

follow-up call with advisor about exam

finish spreadsheet of every single thing published in [journal name redacted] between january 2009 and august 2019

tally frequency of topics in said spreadsheet over that period

choose two “major debates” from the spreadsheet

turn those debates + tally observations into a 3000 word essay

go to new student buddy lunch

finish political geography syllabus

(this included reading or rereading a LOT of stuff)

write annotated bibliography of everything on geography syllabus (idk how many things this was but the bib is like 16 single spaced pages? eta: i did a rough ~calculation and i think there are 60 or 70 texts on this list, all of which i had to summarize, explain relevance for, and position in relation to the other things i grouped with them on the syllabus)

do final edits on memory lit review

have followup mtg with the TLC people

figure out what the fuck is going on with the class i’m TAing

when does it meet again? where?

how do i get to QC?

lead first section

have meeting with professor

start the process of getting admin shit sorted out at QC

get blackboard access

find the fucking building where IT even is

get IT/email account set up

activate said account

inquire with judy about what to do about canceled class

spend like an hour figuring out how to add WIUs because our university’s website is a hellbegotten warren

register for GIS class

get judy to process overrides for this

file for state residency

download and print every single electric bill since i moved in here

download and print 2018 tax return

fill out form

clarify with HR that my current registration situation is not going to cost me money or cause other problems

travel to DC

attend wedding

make it back to NYC

find and download all the books for soc class

create decent file trees for this semester’s classwork and teaching

do reading for soc class week 1

prep overnight for leading section mtg #2

read 5 chapters

summarize 3

make a sheet for small group work

print 14 copies

lead section mtg

do reading for GIS class week 1

write response/questions for GIS class week 1

get access to GIS class’s TWO blackboard sites AND its wiki

sign up for presentation and note-taking responsibilities in GIS class

find out what the rules are for reference materials during the oral exam

do some extra side reading in prep for said oral exam

answer something like 10 student emails about absences and homework

msg TF about little syria

to do, 9/5-9/6:

PAY RENT

update blackboard site for my section because the prof keeps fucking changing shit

go to thursday lecture if i wake up and feel up to it bc frankly while i should go there is just. there’s a lot going on

on the other hand i should really do this so i can go back to the dreaded IT building at QC to get a campus ID so that i can let my own students into my classroom next week, god

do final prep for oral exam

reread submitted documents

print submitted documents

print metadata tab of spreadsheet in case

reread selections from syllabus and read others all the way through for the first time

maybe make some notes about this??

maybe make some notes about the things i know for sure i’ll be asked about

have oral exam

get fucking hammered with RJ

to do, 9/7-9/11:

start the equally insane ID acquisition process at HC again bc they only give you IDs that last for one year so you have to redo it every time

go to the office to get letter

inevitably email whatsername when she’s not there to set an appointment

therefore inevitably make second trip to office

take letter to ID office

get a new library sticker on GC ID

go to little syria tour with or without OA, who is not answering my texts

check in with him again to make sure he’s doing ok

go to It with MD

dry cleaning, maybe also laundry

decide whether to put my name in for a committee this year (why couldn’t this happen like ONE week later PLEASE)

reading for soc class

go to monday lecture

fucking prep for discussion section #3 further in advance this time

eat a damn vegetable (i ought to go grocery shopping but i’m going out of town again on the 14th so like what is the point)

identify, buy, and ship belated wedding gift for wedding #1

figure out gift for wedding #2

lead section mtg #3

figure out what the fuck is up with AAG

clean this absolute raccoon nest of an apartment oh my god??

[dcarhcarts]

regarding recent absences

And other such updates!

If you want the tl;dr, here it is: my mental health isn’t in the greatest place right now, and I figured I ought to explain why I must ask you for continued patience for the snail speed on this blog. I’m not announcing official hiatus, but just know that I...might continue to be pretty scarce, but I’m trying my best to be here and to be writing here. To hopefully get me more active here, I plan on dropping a few threads and cleaning out my dash re: people who follow me but aren’t writing with me. You’re more than welcome to keep following me if I unfollow you, and if you want to write with me and just haven’t gotten the chance and would like me to re-follow you, pls just go ahead and shoot me an im. I will be making a separate post about both those things, it’s just that I can’t deal with how fast my dash is moving at the moment.

If you care for the long version, under the cut so as to not bother everyone else!!! Be warned that it’s uh...it’s l o n g. TW for depression and anxiety and the general things my brain does to me lolol. 

Wow I haven’t used the post title function in a l o n g time. Anyway, hi, it’s me, Ro, your friendly neighborhood mun of a 20+ muse mumu. Don’t let the kind-of-serious format scare you - nothing bad is happening. I just have a few things that I felt the need to address that have been happening either in my life or just in my screwed up brain :D Buckle in and get ready for the ride, I guess?

Starting with something y’all already know about - I’ve not been here a lot recently. I joke about that a lot, but really, if you catch the pattern, my activity here is: exclusively after 10 pm, 2 drafts at most a day, inbox straight up clogged from like a month ago. IMS basically desolate, because I haven’t worked up the courage to pick them back up since I last forgot about them in the endless stream of things I had to do about a month ago! (that being said, uh, if you want to talk to me your best bet is probably through discord. Ro#6782 - pls, mutuals only, and tell me who you are!)  

And - because I h a t e being that mun that reblogs memes and asks for for them and then never answers their askbox / puts out starter calls when she has 10000 drafts / puts out plotting calls when she has unanswered ims, (no problem at all when other people do this but somehow when it’s m e I’m like “no you’re a terrible person”???? hmmm), I’ve also been avoiding t h o s e. If you’re new and you followed me in the last month, I’ve been putting out n o t h i n g that indicates a willingness to interact with new/more people, while the opposite is true. I’m always willing to interact - if I follow back, I want to write with you, only, well, aforementioned issue aside, I also have m o r e problems.

Namely, IRL and the fucked up thing called my brain. 

As most of you know, I got a job ~end of may or early juuuune~ and....well it’s pretty damn time consuming. I can’t have my phone during the course of my job - by the way, 4 hours - and so in those 4 hours (from 4 pm to 8 pm) I can basically get nothing done here. Then there’s also the fact that the time my shift is placed mentally and physically drains me a lot. Because it starts at 4, most of my morning is spent thinking “god I don’t wanna go to work” and because it ends at 8, most of my evening is spent trying very hard not to doze off. It also drains me a lot socially - I work at a call center, and all day I’m basically calling people who don’t want me to call them and are very irate even when they pick up, and uh, that already doesn’t do well for my anxiety haha. 

The other thing, of course - is my sort-of-seasonal depression. Winter tends to equate to anxiety for me, and summer tends to equate to depression. Again, I think I’ve joked about this a lot, but I apparently can only do drafts when I have 3 finals tomorrow and I haven’t studied for any of them. When it’s break, I get into a really weird slump - when i wake up in the morning, I don’t really want to wake up, and sometimes just stare at the wall for like, an hour. Nothing that I enjoyed during the other months, I seem to enjoy doing now. There’s too much time and too little time. It’s like i spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing meaningful but I can’t break myself out of the cycle so I keep doing that, rinse and repeat day after day, and sometimes my definition of spending time is just lying down in bed again and doing nothing for an hour randomly in the middle of the day. I feel guilty for wasting time as much as I am clueless as to how to fill it in a fulfilling way. “But Ro, you could do drafts!” A Concerned Person May Say. “You like writing!” Well, Kind Person, on some of these days, absolutely n o t h i n g Sparks Joy. 

“But Ro, I follow you on your other blog too!” The Concerned Person might continue.“You’re kind of active there, aren’t you?” And the answer, Kind Person who supported my career even if that blog is mostly obscure af fandoms - is yes.  I am kind of active on my other blog, @storyblcd. This brings us to the third and final reason why I’m.....moving at snail’s speed here, and that, my good friend - is anxiety. Well, mixed with a certain amount of mental exhaustion, of course. Note: this is n o t anyone’s fault. People’s interactions with me have not been negative - and they are not responsible for how my brain chooses to reaact to it. 

I’ve not lost muse for the muses on this blog, per se - but I’m getting burned out really fast writing them, for multiple reasons. First, muse imbalance. Now I know, I definitely k n o w - that sometimes people like one muse more than another, or have more interest in writing with one or the other, and I get that. I’ve said multiple multiple times that that is p e r f e c t l y fine. But honestly the reason I’ve lasted so long on a multimuse is because I can pick which muse I have muse for when, and I can respond accordingly / ask for interactions accordingly. But when I get so many people coming at me at once for the o n e muse when I have t w e n t y it sometimes gets a little? Discouraging? It makes me question whether or not only that one muse is popular for a reason. It also exhausts me re: the portrayal of that muse, because I”m putting out so many replies for that muse in a lot of sort of similar plots/scenarios that I just get burnt right out. And then I get scared that if I keep going I’ll want to drop the muse, so I’m staying away from those threads a little bit.

Second, I’m at a point in my portrayal of certain muses where I feel like there’s a certain expectation for how it’s going to be. My personal feelings aside, I think every mun expects their own portrayal to be different and unique and exciting - and it’s not different for me, only now I feel like the expectation and the pressure of coming up with something good and meaningful outweighs the feeling of exploration as I’m “discovering” the muse. Like most writers - I still crave validation, though more and more lately, I’m at a place in my writing where I f e e l like me from 2 months ago could have probably done a better job. While it’s not necessarily true, and these pressures are coming from m e and not any outside source, I f e e l like I have to consistently Make Good Writing, and simultaneously feel like some days I sit down and I try to do drafts and all I write is garbage. It just - doesn’t feel the same? So - more and more, I’m staring at the empty drafts page and then closing it - because if I don’t w r i t e I don’t have to admit I peaked two months ago.  

Both of these reasons have made me rather a bit avoidant of my muses here / this blog. Now, I’ve been struggling with anxiety for long enough that I know that a lot of this is - well, p r o b a b l y just my brain lying to me. See even as I’m writing this post now, my anxiety is saying “haha guess what n o one cares you’ve been gone” and my rational Anxiety-is-a-stupid-asshole voice is saying “nahhhhhh your brain is probably just lying to you.” But! In the battle, anxiety is kind of pummeling me now. I will r i s e again and win the war, most likely - but for now it’s anxiety: 1 and ro: 0.

AND finally - if you made it all the way down here, you’re a c h a m p. The solution! Well, as much of a solution as I’m hoping to get anyway - we’ll have to see if it implements well. I’m going to unfollow a few blogs so I can get my dash cleaner/more organized/less fast-moving and b r e a t h e. I’m going to drop a couple of threads, I might make a couple more muses request only/exclusive only for the like 2 people that have threads with them, I might drop a couple muses (though I don’t think this will really happen, Idk tho). There will be separate posts on those things coming soon, this is just to notify y’all. Thank you for all of your patience, thank you for all the wonderful people who’ve allowed me to write with you, I love all of you!!!!

[bountyofbeads]

https://www.thedailybeast.com/trumps-family-separation-traumatized-migrant-kids-dhs-watchdog-finds?ref=scroll

These are CRIMES against children. No question about it. Trump has TRAUMATIZED children and their families for a GENERATION. SADLY CRUELTY IS THE POINT. This Administration needs to be tried for CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY. 😭😭😭🤬🤬🤬🤬

SHAME

‘Every Heartbeat Hurts’: Trump’s Family Separation Traumatized Migrant Kids, HHS Watchdog Finds

By Scott Bixby | Updated 09.04.19  7:12PM ET Published 09.04.19 12:33PM ET | Daily Beast | Posted September 5, 2019 10:42 PM ET |

Inconsolable children who could not stop crying. A chronic shortage of qualified staff. Trauma so severe that clinicians worried about their own mental health.

These are just some of the findings revealed in a damning report on the challenges of addressing the mental health needs of migrant children in U.S. government custody. The report, compiled by the Department of Health and Human Services’ Officer of the Inspector General (OIG) and released on Wednesday morning, found that Trump administration policies—most notably the disastrous “zero-tolerance” policy  that resulted in the separation of thousands of migrant children from their families—exacerbated a mental health crisis among those in the care of the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR).

Citing interviews with approximately 100 mental health clinicians, as well as medical coordinators, facility leadership, and 28 federal field specialists assigned to 45 ORR facilities around the country, Acting Inspector General Joanne M. Chiedi found that “separated children exhibited more fear, feelings of abandonment, and post-traumatic stress” than children who were not separated from their families.

“Separated children experienced  heightened feelings of anxiety and loss as a result of their unexpected separation from their parents after their arrival in the United States,” the report states, citing program directors and mental health clinicians tasked with caring for nearly 9,000 children, almost 90 percent of whom were from Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador. “For example, some separated children expressed acute grief that caused them to cry inconsolably.”

The trauma described in the 48-page report is brutal. One program director described a 7- or 8-year-old boy separated from his father as being “under the delusion that his father had been killed and believed that he would also be killed.” The boy required emergency psychiatric care.

According to a medical director of an ORR facility, children constantly manifested physical symptoms of the mental and emotional trauma inflicted by separation.

“You get a lot of ‘my chest hurts,’ even though everything is fine [medically],” the director said. “Children describe symptoms—‘every heartbeat hurts,’ ‘I can’t feel my heart’—of emotional pain.”

Many of the children were already suffering from “intense trauma” that occurred before they were separated from family members at the border, experiences in their countries of origin or during their journey to the United States that made treatment even more difficult. In one case, a mental health clinician reported that a child witnessed the murder of his mother, grandmother, and uncle after fleeing an abusive father. Another clinician shared the story of a child who was abducted by a gang and held for ransom while attempting to cross into Mexico from Guatemala.

“The gang held the child in a compound, where another individual was shot in the head,” the clinician  said. “Later, a woman who helped the child escape from the compound was shot by the gang.”

ORR’s facilities were in no way prepared to adequately treat issues of that magnitude, the report found, in part because shifting administration policies made it difficult to know how long a child would be in their care. Clinicians reported being wary of having children revisit traumatic incidents, for fear that they would be unable to address those incidents in future therapy. Instead, treatment was focused on maintaining stability, an approach that clinicians referred to as the equivalent of a Band-Aid: “The goal is not to treat children’s underlying issues because children will not be in the facility long enough to make meaningful progress.”

Clinicians felt “unprepared” to handle the level of trauma they witnessed in ORR facilities, to the point that they began to feel traumatized themselves. Some colleagues, who had no experience in caring for kids, were “especially unprepared,” the report found.

Compounding the difficulty of the cases was the number of cases each mental health clinician was expected to handle. Although ORR regulations require a staffing ratio of 12 patients per clinician, some had caseloads of more than 25 children, which made building a rapport with patients and scheduling counseling sessions incredibly difficult.

“The most challenging thing is the lack of time due to the caseloads,” one lead mental health clinician told the OIG. “Some [children] have behavioral issues or are going through difficult times and you need to see them more during a given period. It becomes a strain on us.”

In a briefing with reporters on Wednesday, Amy Frontz, assistant inspector general for audit services, said that more than half of shelters supervised by HHS allowed new employees to begin work without completing a background check or screening by state child-protective services. More than half of the facilities employed case managers who didn’t meet requirements to serve as mental health providers.

Low compensation, demanding schedules and a scarcity of qualified candidates in remote locations exacerbated the caseload issues, the report found. Staff at ORR facilities described making appointments with psychiatrists and psychologists as far as three months in advance—all while children with severe mental health problems languished in inadequate care. Transferring children out of ORR facilities for treatment of underlying mental health problems, or for more severe mental illness, was incredibly difficult, clinicians reported, putting kids at risk of harming themselves or others.

“The facility tries to keep them safe, but there are many ways a child can harm themselves,” one clinician reported. “The children need a secure residential treatment center for children that are high-risk and need intensive therapy.”

“It is a temporary shelter, not a treatment facility,” a program director echoed. “There is also an issue where residential treatment facilities won't take minors who are aggressive, even when those minors are aggressive because they have untreated mental trauma.”

As clinicians were stretched thin, the population of the facilities grew ever larger, in part due to new regulations requiring federal background checks and fingerprinting of family members seeking to be reunited with their children, which clinicians fear discouraged family members from coming forward. The average length of stay for kids in ORR custody reached a high of 93 days in November 2018, which the report found resulted in “higher levels of defiance, hopelessness, and frustration among children, along with more instances of self-harm and suicidal ideation.”

Some separated children, clinicians said, isolated themselves from other kids, refusing to eat or participate in activities.

“Every single separated kid has been terrified,” one program director said. “We’re [seen as] the enemy.”

The “hectic” court-ordered reunification process presented its own complications in adequate treatment, the report found. Case managers weren’t always able to let children know when, where, or even if they would be reunified with their families, an uncertainty which “added to the distress and mental health needs of separated children.”

In a series of recommendations, the OIG called for increasing regional recruitment of qualified staff, limiting caseloads to an “appropriate maximum,” ensuring that external providers include mental health specialists equipped to treat severe mental illness in children, and, perhaps most importantly, “reasonable policy and practice decisions that can help to minimize the length of stay for children in ORR facilities.”

In a response to the report, Lynn Johnson, assistant secretary for children and families, wrote that she “welcomes” the report “as we work to continually improve ORR’s delivery of mental health care.”

[sirkkasnow]

10 Let Someone Else Pick Up The Tab

Ao3 link

07/18/13 Thursday

The nerd brigade was in full control of the living room by the time Stan was up and about the next day. Graph paper, rulebooks and glitter-spangled character sheets were littered across the carpet. Clary sat enthroned upon the recliner with a bunch of pillows arranged to support her elbows. She leafed gingerly through some arcane tome tricked out with silver ink as Dipper hovered to one side, pointing out paragraphs here and there with a pencil and a note of shrill excitement.

“... so that’s what they did with the clerics in the latest rule update!”

“How are the warlocks looking in this edition?” Clary flipped to the back, then started paging through intently. Today’s kerchief was an improbable shade of star-spattered purple. One of Mabel’s scarves strapped down a towel-wrapped ice pack at the back of her neck. “They’re kind of garbage for one-shots, but if we get something longer-term going online I have a concept...”

“Ah, we - usually avoid warlocks - “ Dipper glanced over at Ford, who’d popped up with a frown from behind a cardboard screen. “But if we end up trying an online campaign we can talk! Today’s just an intro. Some puzzles, some mysteries, perhaps some villains.” He waggled dramatic fingers at Clary, who grinned back with an appreciative ‘ooOOOooo.’

Stan made to slide on by, intent on heading out to the yard and the cars and the testing-out of a happy engine, but Mabel caught sight of him and scuttled out in pursuit. “Grunkle Stan! Help me out for a minute, we need ice pops for these brave adventurers!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned at Mabel, caught Clary’s eye in passing and absolutely did not blush a little, nope, no way, he was too old and too jaded for that kinda nonsense.

Mabel squinted up at him appraisingly, planted hands at his back and shoved him towards the gift shop. “So?” she hissed between her teeth as they staggered down the hallway. “Gimme the 411.”

All he could manage was a thumbs up. Her eyes went wide and she yanked up the cowlneck of her sweater to muffle a high-pitched squeak of glee. “So, she asked me out, I guess, maybe when we’re in port, since we swapped phone numbers an’ all - “

“Did you kiss her?!”

“What? No!”

“You should. She gets all dreamy-eyed - “

“Mabel, she is a classy dame, you don’t rush that kinda thing!”

“There is no dame too classy for my Grunkle Stan.” She hugged him hard around the waist and ran off to the gift shop, leaving him dumbfounded. “I’ll grab you a pineapple one!”

He hauled both the toolbox and a pineapple ice pop out to the yard, late-morning sunshine laying across his shoulders with a warm and soothing weight. The Fairlane’s engine was familiar as the back of his hand after two weeks of tinkering with its insides. Stan propped up the hood and dove in, checking and re-checking his work, reaching in to tweak a connection or two. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he slid into the driver’s seat and shook out the keys.

A good half tank of fuel remained, so no problem on that front. The engine sputtered briefly as he coaxed it into life, then settled into an even cadence that was easy enough on the ears, but Stan cocked his head as he listened. A faint off note in the sound plucked at some distant memory. He leaned on the gas a bit, leaving the car in park.

Then blinked, as the subtle vibration he’d been registering resolved itself into something more rhythmic.

“Shit.” Stan yanked his foot off the pedal and flipped the key back towards him, the thrum of well-regulated combustion rudely interrupted by an earsplitting clatter that echoed off the surrounding trees. The engine took way too long to wind down into silence, something in its guts rattling around hard enough to jostle the suspension. He laid a hand across his brow and swore fervently under his breath.

Twenty seconds passed before the side door banged open and a blur pelted across the yard. Clary smacked into the driver’s side, barely catching herself against the window frame. Winded, she stuck her head into the passenger compartment, frantic eyes flicking across the dash and the dented hood. “That was a piston.”

“That was a piston,” Stan agreed grimly.

“What - what the hell happened? Is the engine dead?” She sagged against the car.

“Well - “ Clary made a strangled noise of protest and he winced. “No. No, no, it’s not dead but things just got more complicated. I swear this isn’t my fault.” His brother and the kids were almost there, trotting across the grass. “Ford, did McGucket get all that heavy equipment shifted up to his new place? We’re gonna need an engine sling at the very least.”

Ford looked a little stricken as he accepted Dipper’s phone. “I thought we’d need to take the wagon up there for the bodywork, but I hoped it’d be under steam by then. Yes, the garage should have everything we’re going to need and then some.” He scrolled through contacts and tapped a number, turning away to engage in low conversation.

Clary straightened, leaning hard on the door for support. “All right,” she whispered. “Fine. Not like it hasn’t been a comedy of errors since I crashed into the town jewel at the peak of the season.” Her hands came together with a sharp clap. “We’d better get the rest of my junk out of the car. May I have some help?”

There wasn’t much left to clear out at this point. Clary opened all the doors and the back gate, letting the kids shuttle the last couple of bags into the house. She handed a skinny box of bottle rockets over to Stan. “Leftovers. I guess we can fire those off when this thing’s finally done.”

Then she collapsed onto the edge of the driver’s side passenger seat, doubled over with her head in her hands. “Good Christ. We just can’t catch a break, can we?”

Ford dropped into a crouch with an ease Stan envied, looking up to her and speaking firmly. “We promised that we’d get you on the road again and we shall. We’ll understand, of course, if you want to cut your losses at this point. The offer of a rental stands, if you want to head up to Seattle and come back to collect your car.”

She was already shaking her head, laughing raggedly. “Come on, Ford. You understand the sunk cost fallacy as well as I do. Thank you, but no.” Clary patted the seat back. “Whatever it takes, it’s got to be this ride. Stan? Can you actually fix it?”

That stung a bit but he couldn’t blame her. “Yeah. I mean, it’s gonna be another week, maybe a little more, and we might be haulin’ McGucket in to help out some.”

Clary drew a careful breath. “Who exactly is McGucket?”

“Best mechanical engineer I’ve ever met,” said Ford.

“Town crank,” said Stan, and got a glare for his trouble. “What? They’re both true!”

Ford sighed and rose. “I’ve been hoping to introduce you to Fiddleford anyway. There might be quite a bit to talk about! Can you adjust your schedule to accommodate another week or so?”

“My next firm commitment is in September. I arranged to leave most of the summer open. I will admit I expected to spend most of it on the road.” Clary’s smile was crooked.

“The McGuckets would be happy to have us as soon as we can arrive. Is it all right to line up a tow truck?”

“Go for it. Thank you, Ford.”

Ford’s smile was the warm, reassuring one he tended to bust out for the customs agent when they’d come skidding into some obscure port with inadequate paperwork. “Shouldn’t take much more than half an hour.”

Stan watched him head back towards the house and sat heavily behind the steering wheel. Clary studied her feet, then pitched backwards with a groan, legs hanging out the door as she sprawled across the back seat. Both hands came up to cover her face. “Aaaaaaauuuuuugh.”

“You all right over there?” He set the fireworks down in the footwell and draped an arm over the backrest, peering down in concern.

“Everything hurts and I want to cry.”

Stan fidgeted. Extending reassurance had never been his strong suit. “Listen...McGucket is definitely a little nuts but he knows his way around a combustion engine like nobody else. Between him an’ me we’ll get it runnin’.”

“This damned car.” She sounded so tired. “I had one job this summer, get this thing from Colorado to the west coast, then back home to Baltimore. I haven’t even made it to the Pacific yet!”

“Pretty roundabout route for gettin’ back to Maryland.”

Her breath hitched. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is.” Clary let her arms fall, one drooping to the floor, the other crossed over her abdomen, and stared up at the roof light. “Stan, I’m glad I’m here. I hate that I don’t have any control over being here.”

Stan tried out comforting responses in the back of his head for a couple seconds, words sticking in his throat. “Well, if you’re gonna be here another week, we’re doin’ the dance thing next Friday. You an’ I could actually, y’know. Dance. If you want,” he clarified as her eyes swiveled over to him.

Clary was silent just long enough to make him nervous, but at last the unhappy line of her mouth softened. “I meant what I said. I’m not taking it back. Even if the car still isn’t running.” She lifted a hand and hooked her index finger into his at the seat back, letting the weight of her arm hang. “Let’s dance.”

She was beautiful in her exhaustion. Stan shifted to hide a widening smile against his shoulder and tightened his one-digit clasp in hers. “Great. I’ll see ya there. Gonna be quite the swank party.”

They trailed the tow truck in the El Diablo, Clary tucked into the front seat, Ford in the back with the kids. Dipper narrated choice bits of Northwest family history all the way, none of it flattering. Clary kept glancing back to him in astonishment. “They were really that bad?”

“They used to be, but they don’t have all that dirty money to throw around any more! And, uh. Pacifica’s okay.”

Mabel jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Ow. Anyway, McGucket ended up buying the place at the end of last summer, so it’s probably changed a bit, but it’s huge! I haven’t been up there since the big party last year. Hey, there it is.”

Clary looked up to the vast lodge-style manor on its hill as they rounded a curve and emerged from the trees. “Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“This town doesn’t make any sense.”

“Thought you’d figured that out by now.” He swung the car up along the long drive, squinting up at the mansion. “I never did manage to slip into this joint while the Northwests were runnin’ it.”

“It takes a lot of money to be that tacky. Clary, Dipper is definitely taking us on the tour.” Mabel hooked an arm firmly through her brother’s. “We’re gonna let the machine geeks go at it for a while.”

“I don’t know, Mabel....”

“C’mon, you said it wasn’t haunted any more! What’s the harm? I’m sure the Northwests took all their awful family portraits with ‘em....”

The kids bickered all the way up to the garage, which was as oversized as the rest of the place. He could just glimpse a tinkerer’s dream of equipment in there – stuff he recognized, stuff that looked to be custom built, some massive grease-encrusted hunks of machinery that must have come up from the town dump along with McGucket.

The man himself was a lot less grease-encrusted than he used to be. McGucket still sported the overalls and the spectacles, but he was scrubbed, bright-eyed and less stooped, and the missing teeth had been patched in through some kind of dental wizardry. Mabel and Dipper hauled Clary off for introductions while Stan and Ford got the wagon unloaded, oriented and nudged into the open bay.

One thing hadn’t changed at all and that was the language. McGucket’s conversation was as peppered with hick-isms as ever. “What a pleasure to meet ya, miss! Ford’s filled me in on yer situation and I’m real sorry y’got stranded out here, but we’ve got the stuff t’get ya right on the road again! I hear there’s a thrown piston t’fix?” He, the kids and Clary, her eyes widening a little with every twang, took off on a tour of the further corners of the space. An occasional snippet of discussion drifted back Stan’s way as he tried to focus on the immediate necessities.

“Just as well she already knows this place is a little strange.” Ford caught Stan’s jacket as it was tossed over, then shucked his own coat and hung both up on pegs.

“Not sure I’d’ve brought her up here without knowin’ she wouldn’t flip.” Stan got the Fairlane settled into place, set the brake and went looking for a dolly.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the things he’s built! McGucket can do stuff with old cars that’s practically miraculous--!” Dipper was nearly hopping in excitement as the little tour group rounded the far end of the garage. Stan glanced up, caught his nephew’s eye and dragged pinched fingers along his lips: zip it, kid. Dipper blinked, went a little red and reined himself in. “I mean he’s not going to do anything weird to your car. Grunkle Stan will make sure of that.”

“Of course not! Why, it’d be a crime to take apart such a pretty thing.” McGucket caught one of Clary’s hands in both of his and peered up in watery-eyed sincerity. “I promise we’ll take real good care of it. Mabel, honey, y’said you wanted t’take a quick tour? I can send ya up with Tater if y’like.”

Stan hauled up the hood and latched its support into place, listening in. Clary’s polite smile finally loosened up into something genuine and she tightened her grip in McGucket’s. “That’s your son, right? I’d love to see the place. Mabel says it’s something else.”

“Sure is! Left up most of the fancy stuff, gold doorknobs an’ all that claptrap, might have t’swap ‘em out next time we need some for circuit boards or whatever...” McGucket fished a heavily modified cell phone out of a pocket and chattered into it as he led the other three up towards the house.

“Gold what?” Stan asked under his breath as they went out of sight.

“Don’t ask. I’m not sure whether he’s serious and it’s not worth crossing the path of the latest Patrol-O-Bot prototype to find out.” Ford peeled out of his sweater and hung that up next to his coat. “Where do we start?”

It took most of an hour for McGucket to make it back down to the garage, by which time they’d gotten the engine fluids drained and the banged-up hood removed. “Nice dings y’got there! Ford, she said it was that magnet gun o’yours did the deed? Maybe we can set up opposin’ fields, pop that sucker nice an’ flat again?”

Stan rolled his eyes a little and tuned out the dense cloud of nerd words that McGucket and Ford generated every damn time they crossed paths. Gibberish along the lines of ‘get a few more horsepower out of it’ and ‘polymer coatings’ and ‘increased fuel efficiency’ bounced back and forth as he methodically disassembled and labeled everything in the engine compartment.

They were all sweaty and grimy by the time Clary and the grand-nibs reappeared. Clary looked up at the sling-suspended engine with worried eyes, then drew breath and squared her shoulders, jangling a set of keys by their fish-shaped fob. “Guess who’s got a loaner,” she sang. “Tate is spotting me his spare truck. He let me raid the larder up at the manor, too, so I’ve got dinner covered. Anyone mind if I run the kids back down to the ranch?”

“What, all we had t’do for some replacement wheels was wreck the car even worse an’ drag it up here?” Stan grinned over her way and she grinned back, relaxing a shade. “Lookin’ good so far, Clary. Sure, seeya back at the Shack this evenin’.”

“Thank you, fellas. Thank you, Mr. McGucket!” Clary shouldered a canvas bag and headed for the far end of the garage.

“Call me Fiddleford!” came out from somewhere under the Fairlane.

The loaner turned out to be a lightweight pickup with ‘Tate & Backle’s Bait & Tackle’ decaled on the doors. Dipper, Mabel and Clary all loaded themselves in. Clary fired it up with a low roar and with three shouts of ‘wooooooooo!’ they peeled out down the long, curving drive back towards town.

“They’re going to get in trouble, aren’t they?” Ford peered out after them from behind the bulk of the kitbashed machinery he’d been using for cover.

“Less trouble than they’d get in if I were drivin’! C’mon, let’s finish pullin’ these pistons.”

Stan and Ford didn’t head back down until nearly sunset. They’d borrowed one of the manor’s ludicrous excess of bathrooms for showers, and Stan had ‘borrowed’ one of the thick, fluffy, pure-white, gold-logoed bath towels to take home through the simple expedient of folding it up and stuffing it under his arm.

The Stanleymobile’s usual parking spot was a lot emptier without the wagon angled in next to it. Mabel was waiting for them on the couch when they finally pulled in, snapping her scrapbook shut as they ambled wearily towards the house. “Gentlemen! Have we got a meal for you! How’s the car?” She waved them in towards the dinette.

“In pieces,” Ford said dryly. “It’s a good start at least. What did you make?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Mabel waggled eyebrows at both of them and vanished off down the hallway. “Have a seat! We’re almost done!”

The dining table was dolled up with a tablecloth Stan was pretty sure had been a curtain last week and a candelabra nicked from a Summerween exhibit. He grabbed a chair just in time to dodge Dipper, who scurried in to drop off a plate lined up with neat rows of salami-wrapped mozzarella, olives and tiny pickles. “Appetizers!” he called in passing, doubling back to the kitchen.

Stan exchanged glances with Ford, shrugged and reached for an olive. “This oughta be entertainin’.”

A low argument between the younger twins, just loud enough to be audible, was intercut with sporadic bits of crackling radio. Clary walked through to set a pitcherful of water and a few glasses on the table, then leaned in to speak softly. “The soundtrack was not my idea, got it?” Stan was struggling to stifle laughter by this point; Ford resolutely bit into another pickle.

Eventually the crackle settled down into what sounded like distant cocktail-hour strings. Mabel marched in first and set down a bowl of fancified rice. “For your consideration, tonight’s menu is produced by our executive chef, Miz Clary Merrick!” Dipper and Clary shuttled in serving dishes until the table was loaded down - garlic bread, a couple different green things he didn’t pay much attention to, and chicken in some pale lemony sauce.

Ford’s nose actually twitched. “Where on earth did you find capers?”

“The pantry up at the McGuckets’ place is bigger than my entire kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the weird pickled things in there. Capers were easy.” Clary laid a napkin across her lap and reached for the rice. “Let’s eat.”

The whole spread turned out to be about a dozen steps above meatloaf. Stan demolished a pile of chicken piccata, went for seconds and found himself fork-dueling with Dipper over the last bit. “Settle down, you two.” Clary nudged back from the table. “There’s pie for dessert. Maybe after we’ve digested for a couple of minutes. But first - “ She steepled her fingertips and looked out critically across the empty dishes. “I have a proposal to make.”

Mabel bounced a little in her chair. “We want to throw a picnic!”

Clary glanced heavenward. “My sainted mother,” she said, kicking the nearest leg of Mabel’s chair, “was a terrible cook, but she had a few specialities and one of them was the family fried chicken. We’re going to have the big dance thing next Friday. So, with your permission, Ford, Stan.” Her chin dipped as she looked at them in turn. “I’d like to host a picnic lunch that afternoon for you guys and anyone else you think I should meet before I pack it up and head out.”

Stan conceded the last bite of chicken to Dipper - kid needed all the protein he could get anyway - but stole the serving dish and swabbed out every trace of sauce with a crust of bread. “Is your fried chicken half as good as this stuff?”

“Better.”

“Sold.”

Mabel beamed, teeth and braces gleaming, and - too late - Stan sensed the trap. “Fantastic! So we’re gonna need to do a bunch of prep.” Her scrapbook came out onto the table, bang, and she flipped it open to a page festooned with tiny curling streamers. Clary deftly snatched plates out of the way, handing them off to Dipper, who ran them to the kitchen. “We’ve got an invite list started, but Clary and I will need to schedule a couple of meetings. You know, to get everything organized since she’s gonna host. That means we have to get Grenda and Candy and Pacifica over here to help out - we need glamour consultants!”

“This means a slumber party, doesn’t it.” Ford’s eyes narrowed, but Stan didn’t see any way to wiggle out of it this time.

“Since everyone’s scattered all over town, it only makes sense to gather here, doesn't it? We'll have to talk about the menu, the décor, the clothes, the music, there's a lot to do.” Clary plucked the piccata bowl from Stan’s slack fingers. “I’ve been extended an invite which I’m honored to accept, so there’ll be adult supervision. Surely we can host for one night?”

Ford groaned quietly. Stan raised both hands, knowing when he’d been beat. “Fine. Deal. As long as you deliver on dessert.”

“Oh, I’ll deliver. Has everyone got their second wind?”

“Heck yes,” chorused the kids. Clary stacked up the remaining dishware, whisked it away and returned with some kind of lemon curd pie dolloped with whipped cream. It was too tart, too sweet, completely delicious and almost gone by the time they were all too stuffed to eat any more of it.

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“I’m glad to be here, Stan. I just hate it that I’m stuck.” She stares up at the dome light with tired eyes.

You could take a day trip to Bend with the bike.

We could probably get in another fishing trip.

So, that dance thing’s coming up on Friday.

[1358456]

Dex Holder Preference List, New-VI

It’s been over 7 months since the last one. There haven’t been too significant of a change, but some changes have been made in the mid-to-low ranks.

Top Favorites

Platinum (1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1) 晝夜長川, 初志一貫. This one is probably never going to change. She’s cute, smart, very kind and sweet (post development), very strong especially with a team overhaul, and is the staple of most of the important character bonds in all of my stories. And best of all, she had character development to reach this point in her personality, so her sweetness is not boring! And with a relatively new “discovery” that she had canonically blushed in DPPt... expect more of that sweetness in future chapters!

Y (2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2) The XY arc really kind of... f*cked her in terms of... well, pretty much everything. Got no Flying types except for the one she started with, didn’t even fully evolve said bird, caught the NPC Mega which is horsesh*t, Xerneas which is amazing but a temporary capture, uses a Rhyhorn which isn’t hers and is not for combat, and worse of all, the arc did not allow her to have a character development. But suddenly, overhaul her team and then put her in as a junior Dex Holder who does not have to shoulder all the burden by herself and now there are a lot of more interesting character progression possibilities! Y has a bit of a temper, which can lead to a bit of an aggression. Her overhauled team is very aggressive, which certainly adds to it. She’s also probably the most physically agile while making sense, which makes her very fun to use. Working with Platinum, Y can serve as her fist, pretty much, becoming the vanguard of the group, being the sword to Platinum’s shield. ... Again, with Generation VIII coming, I need to use a different comparison...

Red (3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3) With the other guy banished into the void for eternity, the Dex Holder leader role naturally falls upon him and Blue, but with Blue more reluctant to be in the lead, it’s up to Red. But he’ll be working with her at all times anyways, for a joint-leadership, basically. And this is quite better than having just one guy being in charge. Red takes the part of commanding respect and admiration, basically, as he’s quite a nice guy overall, and... well, he’s freaking Red. He works well with pretty much every junior, and given the sheer amount of junior Dex Holder focus I give, he’s naturally involved quite a lot being nice and helpful to them.

Blue (4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4) The one of two Dex Holders whose personality and background is pretty similar to mine, so a lot of my own traits have gone into her. The other Dex Holder being Platinum, but it’s like 80% Blue and 20% Platinum, so... mostly Blue. In that joint-leadership thingy with Red, Blue takes the role of... the brains, pretty much. She’ll do most of the thinking, and guide Red in the right direction, and she’ll do her best to support him. With an overhauled team, she’d fare much better in said support, and even when doing something solo. Now, she’s ranked below Red because of the junior focus. While Blue is very kind in her own way, she does have a bit of... darkness to her complexion/personality, which does not work too well with a deeper senior-junior relationship. In short, some juniors might be a bit scared to try to get too close.

Light Preferences

Moon (5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5) ... I should look for a USM portrait soon. ... Anyways. Moon lost her place in the Top Favorites, but not her ranking number. It’s because... well, SM/USM... is not really that... good? In short, I sense an impending disaster for that arc. Disaster as in “why the f*ck did the creators do this meaningless bullsh*t?” Now, while that may not have anything to do with Moon, it serves as a factor in what may lead to her decline in preference. She currently doesn’t have a lot holding her in place here. Her personality is... well... not really that fun to use. Her bond with Platinum is currently just a headcanon that may be shot to hell shortly which is very bad for her preference ranking, her team is weird at best, hasn’t caught a single new thing, or evolved anything on screen, etc. The biggest factors for her ranking is the fact that she may have a canon bond with Platinum, and that she’s the only healer that makes sense, and is the youngest junior, therefore the weakest, and thus the furthest from being “invulnerable”. It’s much more interesting to write with characters who are struggling with what they have to deal with, instead of “no problem, I can do everything”.

Emerald (6, 7, 6, 7, 6, 6) Even though MANY people don’t like him, Emerald is... quite good and fun to use. He’s cunning and a damn good battler, made even better with a team overhaul that sacked his bullsh*t repeat Pokemon. Now he should be much more useful in combat, which is great, since the other two Hoenn Dex Holders... I’ll get to that in a bit.

Diamond (8, 9, 8, 6, 7, 7) Admittedly, Diamond’s personality is quite... boring. The only thing holding him up here is the fact that he’s just such a sweet guy, especially to Platinum. And now, with his team updated, he should fare much better in protecting her, and will actually accomplish something in said protection. He’s not worth much if Platinum can protect herself better with her overhauled team. He will serve as her shield... er... ... portable wall? ... Why did Generation VIII have to be called Sword and Shield anyways? Blech. Anyways, he’ll protect her at all costs, and will even be useful as someone Platinum can lean on for emotional support.

White (7, 6, 7, 10, 8, 8) ... She’s cute and sweet, sure. But that’s pretty standard for the Dex Holders, and White doesn’t have much character development in that regard. She’s more accepting, I suppose, after “slipping” off of the Ferris wheel in an “accident”. But she’s still absolute sh*t at battling, using the crappiest Dex Holder team outside of Yellow’s. So she’s like a detriment in combat situations, which... is quite nice story wise, as it creates more tension! ... The biggest thing holding White in this spot is the fact that she’s a staple in the Black & White pairing that I like so much. ... More specifically, the pairing that I like hammering so damn much. Besides that pairing moment, she’s kind of... well, a filler. She doesn’t do much in the Junior Trio/Quartet. I suppose she serves a bit as a... mediator of sorts? White is the one most suited for handling other people, given her job. So she’d know the best way to talk to other people with vastly differing personalities, which is something the other Dex Holders (especially Platinum) may not. So... there’s that, I guess.

X (17, 17, 10, 9, 10, 9) He climbed a rank! Yay! ... Right now, I feel that X is a bit hard to use. If Y was with him, then it’s not as bad. But by himself... I think it’s because he was such a... douche for so much of his only arc, and his character development pretty much happened in the last two pages. I just don’t have enough information on what he’d be like post character development, so it just feels awkward using him in various chapters. Maybe as time passes, he can develop his own solid role in my stories, like Y did. ... For now, he’d start by just being super nice and friendly with Y, and be the ONE junior male Dex Holder who’s respectful to Platinum (since BW2 cast still won’t exist in my stories).

Pearl (RB, RB, RB, RB, 13, 10) What a climb. He how has his team overhauled to better suit his personality/ability, getting rid of some of the random ass additions that he never really used. And even though Heart as a story may be like a dud, its effect in making me like this guy a lot more is quite profound! Among the Morning Sound trio, he’ll serve as Platinum’s swo... ... er... ... lead pipe. He’ll protect and support Platinum in his own way, which is to take action and clearing a path, so to speak. In the end, even if Platinum does not notice his crush on her, he’d have been just as important as Diamond.

Low Preferences The name of this “tier” has been changed to make a bit more sense. I mean... what in hell is a “dead zone”, and why is it not the worst thing?

Sapphire (16, 11, 11, 11, 11, 11) She’s certainly quite... charming in her own way, and is fun to use, but... it’s not that easy anymore. Her most defined tendency is her “wildness” and physical strength, which both defy reason. And sh*t that defies reason... me just no like. I mean, what are the limits to her physical prowess?? Outside of comedic scenes? Her prowess is now going to be not that much better than Y’s. She’d still hit a lot harder, but won’t be as agile. And in terms of her as a character... well, it seems that her entire being just revolves around Ruby. Her whole objective in RS was just to keep the promise made to young Ruby. And now that objective was completed... ... ???

Ruby (15, 13, 12, 12, 12, 12) See, even in here, they’re together. Heh. So Ruby and Sapphire as characters are like... Sapphire doing what Ruby is doing or had asked her to do. It’s like the “unit” Sapphire has been issued the follow command on the “unit” Ruby, and then the command console broke so she’s just following him forever. And while Ruby does independent things from time to time, he’s kind of... forced to include Sapphire now, which kind of turns it into a pairing thing, and I don’t really like this pairing all that much. I don’t dislike it, but I just don’t really care much about it. Hence both of them are in the low preferences. They’re useful together, as both of them at once are like an independent unit that can accomplish so much. ... But they HAVE to be together, which... meh.

Black (10, 10, 13, 13, 15, 13) Man. ... STILL stuck in this chickensh*t outfi... er... that rock. Freedom might be close, but so far, it seems like White was the one who got sucked into the Light Stone? ... So the reason why this guy is down here is because I haven’t seen anything new from this guy in 5 years despite him being in an active arc. Yeah, yeah, rock. But even without that, I just don’t think he’s that... good. Yeah, he’s quite smart and noticed intricate details, but only after his mind’s been cleared, which is a bothersome. As a trainer, I don’t consider him to be all that strong, as his accomplishments were forced upon by the game plot. So the only thing pulling him up is his bond with White and... that’s just filled with pain, man. Heh. ... So... once again... until he comes out of that freaking rock...

Gold (15, 13, 14, 14, 14, 14) So Gold’s team was overhauled, giving him a Houndour, Larvitar, and a candle (Litwick) on his head like a damn Kobold. “You no take candle!” ... But well... his team was overhauled so that he’d find his own style, which is more of an explosive firepower. He’d now serve much better in combat as fitting as someone who’s one of the absolute oldest. But to be honest, the overhaul was more like... chump charity? His post-Cycle personality is kind of... well, very un-Gold-like. And his Gold-like personality is... well, he’s an ass. He’s a good guy, sure. But he doesn’t act like one because he doesn’t want to be seen as one. So he’d only help out in a situation if he had an excuse in the form of a “selfish” reason, which just doesn’t work for me.

Crystal (14, 16, 15, 15, 16, 15) Crystal’s team was updated so that she’s not using horrible sh*t all the time. But... well, the proverb in Korean goes as “giving a pearl to a pig”. Like... what would a pig do with a pearl? Does it even know the value? ... No. So like... giving Crystal a much better combat team, when she herself is just crap at fighting, it’s just... a waste. And personality wise, Crystal is kind of bland. She’s just really nice and kind and smart, which... is very standard. Her role is basically just like a support to the juniors, which can be done by any other girl, and her bond with Gold kind of results in the post-Cycle Gold, which is a bit of an issue? Hmm...

Faitsu (11, 12, 16, 16, 17, 16) The girl with absolutely no development or a team, or a reason to exist. Sure, she’s super cute and fun to see, but... that’s it. There is no other purpose. And with hopes of BW2 being non-existent... she’s not going to climb any higher unless someone else falls from above. It’s all downhill from here, but others may just fall faster.

Sun (9, 8, 9, 8, 9, 17) Welcome to the double digits. You will never see the single digits ever again. Honestly, I just don’t remember why I ranked him so high before. I don’t like his personality, or appearance. He’s very objective-driven, almost like two other male Dex Holders who are just... boring. Unless SM/USM shows me something very intriguing that’s good enough, this guy is just going to fall further. He hogs the spotlight so damn much, he doesn’t really give a f*ck about anything other than his own goals, he has the story-mode invulnerability bullsh*t going on, which defies reason, and I think he’s one of the biggest reasons why I just don’t like the Generation VII arc anymore. The only reason why he’s not in the bottom “tier” is because SM/USM still has some hope, and I’m holding onto the hope that he’ll have some incredibly sweet moment with Moon. If that doesn’t happen, then f*ck him.

Rock Bottom

Yellow (RB, RB, RB, RB, 18, RB) And back here again. But do note that she’s still not on the very bottom! In fact, her ranking remains the same as last time, in the 18th spot out of 20! It’s just that “low preferences” doesn’t apply to her. I have absolutely no interest in using Yellow beyond ONE situation, and that is not a good one for her. It’s either just heartbreak and being forgotten, or SoS shenanigans. And even for those two, White just serves as a better and more entertaining target. So... meh. Also, Yellow as a whole just defies reason. Just like how Core Enforcer f*cked her bullsh*t abilities in Destiny, so shall something else do the same to her in Legacy.

Rakutsu (12, 14, 17, RB, RB, RB) The same as Faitsu, except this guy ain’t sweet and adorable. Randomly spewed out backstory that somehow made me lose even more interest in the guy, which no hope left for BW2... How much longer until I banish the BW2 cast into the void as well? Heh...

Silver (RB, RB, RB, RB, RB, RB) The only one with no numbers in the ranking history. Always been down here, and always will. Silver is just like that guy, in that his personality is just incompatible with anyone. He’s the lone, quite, brooding type guy which makes character interactions with anyone other than Blue to be... boring as sh*t. So I’ll just save myself the headache and just have him basically not exist so I don’t have to worry about character interactions.