#break old ties

[magicstormfrostfire]

.

[lord-squiggletits]

On the MegOP fandom trend of saying "Optimus should apologize to Megatron"

(Speaking specifically for IDW1, though it applies to a lot of MegOP especially ones that do continuity soup with heavy reference to IDW1)

I was talking to a friend in DMs and they mentioned a common headcanon/fanfic trope that I also concurred with, and both of us said it's something that bothers us: a common take in the MegOP fandom goes basically along the lines of "If Optimus had just apologized to Megatron, the war would've ended" (or other variants including "if he'd tried harder to understand Megatron/work in collaboration with him").

And firstly, this is incorrect for a number of reasons:

There were attempts at peace negotiations during the war, but they fell through. So Optimus WAS trying to work with Megatron to the point of participating in formal diplomatic meetings.

Optimus tried multiple times on page to convince Megatron to just stop fighting and work with him for peace (Autocracy, Chaos Theory) that Megatron rejected. Given that these on-page examples take place at the start of the war and at the end of the war respectively, it makes sense that Optimus asking Megatron for collaboration is something he was trying/willing to do the entire time. So again, Optimus was always willing AND ATTEMPTING to work with Megatron and find a joint solution

Even before the war when Optimus was still Orion, he was very explicitly inspired by Megatron's writing and names Megatron as one of the people who "opened his eyes" to the wrongs of Cybertronian society. So how is it that people claim "the war went on for too long because Optimus never tried to understand Megatron" when OP literally named Megatron as one of his biggest idols, thus implying that OP does understand Megatron's ideals

But the primary purpose of this post wasn't to defend Optimus, actually. Even though I personally think Optimus did plenty (dare I say, everything) to try to end the war, there are some who may still think otherwise, so instead of arguing about whether Optimus did "enough", or who should apologize to whom, or who "deserves the blame" for starting/continuing the war, I'd actually rather talk about this:

No matter who is most "to blame" for the war, it's my firm belief that neither Megatron nor Optimus would even expect/demand the other to apologize to them at all.

On Megatron's side, he would never seek to judge Optimus negatively for the decisions to the point of saying "you wronged me, apologize." Whether it's evil Megatron who doesn't care about atrocities and revels in an opportunity to expose Optimus as a hypocrite, or post-war/Autobot Megatron who knows that his own evil actions are irredeemable, the idea of Megatron judging Optimus and demanding an apology for the war specifically strikes me as out-of-character. Why would Megatron demand or even want an apology from Optimus when Megatron knows fully well that he has his own sins to bear, he prolonged the war for his own selfish/material gain, and that he is responsible for an untold amount of suffering? Demanding an apology would imply that Megatron sees himself as the wronged party and Optimus as the wrongdoer, but by the end of the war, Megatron is too aware of his own part in the war to ever demand such a thing of Optimus. Even if he DID think that Optimus was "equally to blame" for the war (which he doesn't/wouldn't, btw), Megatron's own feelings of guilt would prevent him from trying to seek the petty satisfaction of the moral high ground or making Optimus beg for his forgiveness.

Additionally, Megatron knows Optimus very well as a person: he knows that the position of leadership is full of "loneliness [and] agonizing self-doubt" for Optimus (Chaos Theory) and that "when Optimus hurts others, he hurts himself" (MTMTE). Another reason that Megatron wouldn't demand nor want an apology from Optimus is because Megatron knows Optimus so well that he already knows that being a war leader fills Optimus with immense guilt and suffering. Given that Megatron knows about Optimus' self-doubt and guilt, why would he even need an apology when he already knows how much Optimus regrets the war and desperately wishes/wished for it to end?

Then, as established in the previous paragraphs, Optimus is too full of guilt for his part in the war (both before it started and in being unable to stop it sooner) to demand an apology from Megatron. Again, demanding an apology would put Optimus in an implied position of moral superiority and/or victimhood, but Optimus doesn't see himself as morally superior or as a victim (or rather, he sees himself as being responsible for these bad things happening and internalizes this as a duty to do better/fix wrongdoings). In other words, Megatron and Optimus both share this view of themselves and each other: Their hands are so dirty, and they both feel such guilt over this, and they know each other well enough to know that the other feels this way as well. Because both of them feel blame for the war and are acutely aware of their own flaws/part in suffering, both of them feel far too responsible for the war happening for them to ever blame their archnemesis for "not trying harder" or "being responsible for the war."

Hell, if you even look at the socio-political climate of Cybertron before the war started, neither Megatron nor Optimus were the ones who put this conflict into motion. The corrupt legacy of the Primes, Functionism, class issues-- all of these things existed before Megatron and Optimus did. Even once they started doing things like writing about social issues (M) or fighting against the Senate (OP), both of them were "underlings" in sense that they weren't leaders:

Megatron's writings may have inspired the Decepticon movement, but that movement existed as an independent entity with its own leaders and speakers long before Megatron became the "official" ruler of the Decepticons. He wasn't even the leader of the 'Cons until he took control of the gladiator arena and the nonviolent sections of the Decepticons were (presumably) subsumed into the underground, exploitative battle culture that Megatron created.

Optimus-as-Orion was a police officer to start, but even once he started going against the Senate, he mainly worked in collaboration with others like Senator Shockwave and Zeta (later Zeta Prime), who he either saw as his idols or who were literally superior to him in rank due to government/military structures.

So with this in mind, even from a social level, while Megatron and Optimus may have been "catalysts" of a sort that caused the war to escalate to an outright planetary/galactic level, the scenario is too complex to solely lay the blame for the war at either of their feet. I'm not confident in saying that Megatron/Optimus would explicitly think of this when talking to each other, but what I'm trying to say is that M/OP were just catalysts in a long chain of brewing tension that exploded into a war. Even if one could claim that one of them "started" or "escalated" the war, the social issues that caused the war and the positions of power that allowed them to become leaders in the first place were falling into place before either of them actually BECAME leaders.

In other words, this shared fate of being the final reaction that exploded a societal conflict into outright war... Megatron and Optimus both have that in common. And because of this, I really don't think either of them would even think to ask the other to apologize because they're both in such similar positions, with such similar feelings of guilt and responsibility, that they understand each other's feelings without words. To demand an apology would be akin to taking that shared vulnerability/guilt and stepping on it, attempting to claim that one is right/superior and the other is wrong/inferior, and that the inferior one needs to grovel and take responsibility for the bad things that happened.

[batcavescolony]

What ever you do don't think about Percy reading Estelle a little kid version of 'The Odyssey' because that's what Sally read to him but he doesn't want to scare her. Don't imagine Sally looking on with guilt in her eyes cus she HAD to read him the real one so he knew what to expect. Don't think about Sally looking down on her little girl with tears in her eyes cus she doesn't need to worry about snakes in her bed or teachers being Cyclopes. Don't think of Sally seeing Estelle with Paul and having to leave the room cus when Percy was that age they had Gabe. Don't think of the unimaginable guilt that Sally must feel for being relieved that Estelle's biggest battle at 16, is her Dad being her teacher. And whatever you do don't think about Percy feeling like an outsider in his own family even though he gets constantly reassured that he's part of it and loved.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hauntedmoors]

I’m sorry if I’ve been heavily posting about chess lately though those pictures of women playing having me so thoroughly mesmerised that I’ve started reading chess theory

[sandersgrey]

Im rewatching The Old Guard and its so funny bc its like. The guys going "the new immortal must be feeling so scared and alone..." and Andy is like "and im about to make it worse"

[halfyearsqueen]

has his mama’s withering stare and everything 🙏

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Jak and Daxter Thursday Part 2

(As promised, the Less Angsty Part.)

The onlookers all seemed to think Jak had slipped out of the Precursor craft at the last moment. That was just fine with him: it meant no one had seen him teleport out, carrying Damas into the tower. Leaving him there had been terrifying -- even if the monks in the Convalescence Ward had believed him to be a Precursor himself, and vowed to care for Damas with a reverence that made him sick, it was hard to trust his father's care to others. But he had appearances to keep up, just as his other self had warned him. All he could do was focus on his next steps.

Sig had taken the throne as interim regent in Jak’s place, as while he was more than capable of satisfying the battle requirements of a Spargan king, he wasn't yet of age. That was a mercy, but Jak knew Sig loathed the role. Damas had been like an elder brother to him from the moment he staggered through the gates of Spargus seeking refuge. Sitting in his place felt as wrong for him as it did for Jak.

Jak turned a tired smile to Daxter, who met it with a knowing look. Tess raised her brows at Daxter, but he tiptoed to whisper in her ear that he'd explain later. Jak clapped a hand to Keira's shoulder in camaraderie as he passed, and she returned it in kind with a light squeeze.

There was a pain in her eyes Jak remembered too well. Everything had come out in bits and pieces from the moment Haven had traded Jak to Damas, and Keira almost regretted digging for answers. Learning that a beloved parent was capable of such thoughtless cruelty to someone else's child "for the greater good"- well. They'd had their fights, but Jak wouldn't have wished that feeling on her even if she'd joined the Krimzon Guard.

"J- sorry, Mar."

Jak managed a bittersweet smile. "For you, I can still be Jak."

Keira bit her lip and looked skyward for a moment, blinking rapidly until she had her facial expression under control.

"...okay. Jak, I'm...I'm going to denounce him. To think that all that time, he knew- I. I don't think I'll ever- it's like I woke up and someone replaced my dad with a complete stranger."

"We never blamed you for any of it," Jak answered earnestly. "Spargus won't hold it against you if you don't denounce him. We all answer for our own choices."

Keira blinked hard again, and nodded. "And this is my choice. I'm choosing you and Daxter this time. Like I wish I had before."

Jak reached up to squeeze her hand. "...thanks, Keira. We...I missed you."

"I missed you too, Jak." Keira let go to fold her arms across her middle. "Can we start over?"

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Jak nodded. "I- yeah- yeah we- that sounds good."

Keira offered a wan smile, then let him go. It felt like torture, climbing the last few platforms to the balcony. Sig was there, but so was Samos. And so was Onin. And while Jak knew they were only there because Sig wanted them within firing range if they tried something, it made him hesitant to continue forward. He didn't want to be anywhere near the people who had known about Veger's plot and blithely co-opted it for their own uses.

"Jak, m'boy! Well done!" Samos chortled merrily, wearing that grandfatherly air Jak had always fallen for before.

Not anymore.

"I'm not "your" anything." Jak stepped past him in a hurry. He didn't trust himself not to snap if he remained within arm's reach of the sage.

Sig rose from the throne and held an arm out to him with an understanding look.

"Mar," he said softly.

He clasped arms with Jak, and nodded solemnly.

"I'm proud of you, kid. Your- Your father would be proud."

"He is," Jak answered softly. Then he pulled Sig down to his level by the shoulder to whisper in his ear, "Dax is going to take over the diplomacy stuff down here. Meet me in the C-Ward upstairs."

Sig straightened and frowned down at him. "What'd you do, cherry?" he murmured.

The smirk Jak gave him in reply was so grim he could have sworn it was Damas who stood before him once more.

"I shaped my own fate, like my father taught me."

For a long time, Sig just looked at him. Then he shook his head. "Boy, if I didn't already know you did impossible things-"

The Convalescence Ward was a hive of activity the instant Jak stepped through the door. He frowned. The light eco should have rewound the crushed bones and organs almost perfectly! Doubtless his father would be sore a while, and Jak hadn't been able to fully repair the broken leg before running out of eco, but that wouldn't warrant this much fuss, would it? He opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, and a senior monk rushed to him.

"Young prince! Your father-! He- he-!"

Irrational thought it was, anxiety twisted in Jak’s stomach. "What about my father? What are you talking about?"

The old woman took him by the hand, a slightly disturbed awe wavering in her voice.

"He lives! Your father lives, Mar!"

Relief washed over him, and with it, the events of the last 48 hours that he'd been shoving to one side.

"Let me see him," he said urgently.

"I...must warn you first, Mar," the monk cautioned, and Jak's stomach flipped again.

"He is...changed. The Precursors returned him from the edge of death -- by hand! No mortal can experience such a thing and remain unaltered."

Ah. Just the normal "Mystical Whooo Crap", as Pecker called it.

"I've seen that kind of thing before. I'm not afraid," Jak assured the monk. "Please. Just take me to him, Ruma."

Damas was awake now -- he hadn't been when Jak had seen him last. One leg -- the still broken one -- lay propped up where monks could splint it. Dark blue shapes twisted and curled under the skin, as if lights were shooting through his veins. The rest of him looked strangely normal for having just been yanked back from the edge of death. The monks not splinting his leg quickly backed away from the bed as Jak approached.

It had worked. The timeline was closed now, and Damas lived.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Jak dropped to sit in a heap on the edge of the cot. He fumbled for Damas’s hand and held it to his chest as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're here," he croaked.

"I'm here," Damas repeated, almost confused. Then his face split into a wide smile. "I'm here."

Jak blinked. Something wasn't quite right about his father's face. Something about his eyes was a little brighter than he recalled. And the teeth...Too many? Too few? Too sharp? His mind couldn't decide for a few seconds before the bones in question seemed to settle into a fairly standard -- if unusually sharp -- set of human teeth.

A memory of his own face, saturated with both light and dark eco, rose to Jak’s mind, and an uncomfortable thought followed on its heels.

Had he altered his father's physical form by healing him in the Precursor craft?

Further speculation was cut short when Damas pulled his hand free to tap playfully against Jak’s cheek.

"You once pushed a chair in front of the door -- a toddler's chair, mind you now -- because you thought it would keep me from going to work without you. You never could stand being left behind, could you?"

He sounded like he wasn't certain whether he was more amused or annoyed.

So much pain, so much loss, and here they all were at the end of it all, still standing. So to speak. The exhilaration of not being the only one left to tell the tale filled him with a heady feeling he would later come to recognize as joy.

With a giddy laugh, Jak threw himself forward and into Damas’s chest.

"We did it!" he crowed, "We did it, we did it!"

Damas’s arms folded over his back, and his chest vibrated with a soft chuckle.

"So it would seem! Though how I'm to explain this, I'm not certain."

"So just don't explain," Jak snorted, "and let them come to their own conclusions."

He ducked away from the hand tweaking his ear with a laugh.

"And let someone start some crackpot theory about our already bizarre bloodline?" Damas feigned offense. "That sounds like a terrible idea!"

"Terribly clever, I agree."

Damas lightly thumped Jak over the head. "Impudent little- When I get out of this cast, I oughta-"

Finally seeing an opportunity, a monk gracefully interrupted. "My lord, your leg requires time and watchfulness to heal correctly. You must leave it immobile for at least two weeks until we know what the eco is doing in your bloodstream."

She turned and nodded respectfully to Jak. "I trust you will keep the injury well tended-to?"

Jak slid over to occupy the space between Damas and the small nightstand. He leaned back against the wall beside his father and nodded back.

"Don't worry, he's not going anywhere. I'll make sure of that."

"This is elder abuse," Damas complained, just as lighthearted and almost giddy as his son. "You can't make me stay in bed! That's mutiny!"

"No," Jak retorted with a broad grin, "That's what happens when Sig gets here and finds out you're alive!"

"Argh, you're right!" Damas slipped an arm around Jak’s neck in half a hug, half a headlock. "And then I'd have to contend with Daxter!"

Jak gently poked Damas in the side with a smug grin. "Daxter? No no, Tess is the one you should be afraid of."

Damas flung his other hand into the air in mock exasperation. "Rot me, it's a conspiracy! I'm outnumbered!"

When the monks had finally taken the hint to leave the pair alone to catch up, Damas sobered slightly. "You know we'll probably have to make a plan for if the Precursors choose to retaliate for this."

Jak's eyes danced with mischief. "What're they gonna do without their technology? They're as powerless as Veger!"

Damas raised a brow -- no, Jak hadn't imagined it, there was something weird about his eyes now. The pupils weren't supposed to have little points of light like stars, were they? Not for humans.

"Alright cub, what did you do?"

"What did Daxter do," Jak corrected, deciding to deal with the possibility of his father gaining a Light Form later. "He confiscated the old one's staff, and then made them drop the ship with the Precursor we hatched from the Stone last year. Because they weren't being responsible with time and space."

Considering the young Precursor had been sitting on the beach that would one day hold Sandover Village, happily building elaborate sandcastles in lieu of blueprints, Jak had a feeling the new owner of the time machine would have fewer agendas to push. And given how the glowing being had greeted them as "My friend Mar" and "little Scout-brother", perhaps subsequent timelines would be kinder to his family. The other ottsels' horror and chagrin boded well, anyway.

[severefartoholic]

Soft and helpless creature... All alone...in a cruel and cold world

[27-royal-teas]

idk what the point of this post is but i just need you to know that patrick stump, born 1984, is a year of the rat in the chinese zodiac

[conspiring-limabean]

I had spent years wanting nothing more than to get out of the place I used to live and move back up north and just rotting in a pool of depression because of how much that place fucking sucks, and when I finally got the chance to move back up north I like. Told myself not to hype it up too much because it isn’t going to fix everything, there’s other problems in my life that I’m going to have to work on still and I was really worried I would move to the new place and still be depressed but this time have no more scapegoat “this will fix me if I can get there” solution to hang onto because now I’ve achieved the thing I had always told myself would fix my depression. but like. no i was right. I’ve been here a few months, more than enough time for depressive phases to come and go and my mental state is so much infinitely better here. Like I actually want to go outside. I actually enjoy looking out the window. the bad thoughts still appear as I know they always will but fighting them off is so much fucking easier. The depression doesn’t stay when it comes knocking. There are still the few other life problems I know I need to solve but now I actually have the self confidence to try to do so instead of wallowing in untamable anxiety afraid of heading anywhere else because I might do it wrong

[i-spilled-my-soup]

i never read the . the description but now i haeve and

hghghugh..,,.......... oughhhhhhhhhhhhh

[see-arcane]

The Underappreciated Undead Squad: Clarimonde, Lord Ruthven, and the Family of the Vourdalak

If you’ve been keeping track, you’ll know I’ve been getting sucked into a resurgence of old school bloodsucker literature. Not just with the fun of Dracula Daily—thanks again, Matt Kirkland!—but revisiting some even older vampiric favorites who have been kicking since long before the Count started planning his English holiday. From left to right above, we see Gorcha, patriarch of Aleksey Tolstoy’s, “The Family of the Vourdalak,” (1884), Clarimonde, of Théophile Gautier’s, “La Morte Amoureuse,” (1836), translated into English as ‘Clarimonde’ or, ‘The Dead Woman in Love,’ and Lord Ruthven, of John William Polidori’s, “The Vampyre,” (1819).

I’ve been dropping hefty blurbs about each of them, but I figured a master post was in order. Much as Dracula Daily is/will continue to pick up its pace as autumn ticks along, I know there are folks out there itching for a broader classic vampire fix than just another reread of, “Carmilla.”*

*Who does not get to sit at these guys’ table, considering she has a web series, a movie, and a number of animated cameos (hi, Vampire Hunter D and Castlevania babes), while everyone on this guest list has no mainstream spotlight, period. Sorry, Millie.

 Assorted Synopses and Story Links Below!

1.    Clarimonde—“La Morte Amoureuse” (Post) (Story PDF)

POV: You’re a newly minted priest doing priest stuff in the middle of Le Bumbfuck Village in Nowhere, France. You fell in love with the hottest party girl in Paris. She dies. She resurrects herself and appears in your room looking like this ^^^ saying she came back to life because she’s into you. She asks if you’re down to run away to Venice with her. Wyd?

Oh, Clarimonde. She’s probably the best way to (un)die you’ll ever meet in classic literature. Gautier wrote her story with all kinds of ribald and religiously risqué (if not damn near blasphemous) joy, and managed to sneak a genuinely heartstring-tugging romance in. She’s probably the first vampiric character to ever be written in a truly sympathetic light, while also being one of few early seductive/bawdy female characters to not be given the ye olde ‘EW NO EVIL POWERFUL LILITH CHARACTER BOOO’ treatment.

2.    Lord Ruthven— “The Vampyre” (Post) (Story PDF)

POV: You’re the tenth adulteress tonight to try to get with the sexy stranger who lives to make everyone around him miserable (sexily). All you’ve managed to do is interrupt his game, in which he plans to bankrupt a father of seven, followed by maybe hunting down his innocent daughter to stick a dagger in her for a midnight sip. Oh, you were after a blood sugar daddy? Too bad. Take that thirsty bullshit to Carfax and duke it out with Renfield.

Lord Ruthven is the original undead bastard. His hobby is ruining the lives of good people, driving virtuous girls to madness and/or murdering them for a drink, and collecting fancy bejeweled blades for a little flair with the latter. Our guy is Not Interested in romance as anything other than a performance to get close to a young lady for the purposes of either ruination or slaughter. Nor is he about to churn out any more of his kind willy-nilly. Why bother? Maybe that shit flies for those needy Transylvanian hoarder types, but he prefers to go solo. He seems like a unique polar opposite to most ‘teaching a moral’ monsters—in his story, only the purest of pure mega-good characters suffer. If you’re anything less than saintly—see: horny chicks, folks with personal vices, et cetera—Ruthven either ignores you outright or tosses you some cash to aid your selfish aims. Thanks, man.

3.    Gorcha and Kin— “The Family of the Vourdalak” (Post) (Story PDF)

POV: You are a traveler meeting the dead and knowing eyes of Gorcha and his family. This ends one of two ways. Version 1: Gorcha and his family decide they hate you. There is only room for murderous hate or consuming love in their still hearts, as is the condition of the Vourdalak. They will nail your head over the door. Version 2: Gorcha and his family have decided they love you. So much so that they must empty your veins and welcome you into the family. Forever. What’s that, traveler? You’d like to leave before they decide either way? Who said that was an option?

Vampirism and love have always managed to overlap throughout the genre. But the condition of the Vourdalak flavor is especially fixated on it. The gist is that where ordinary vampires will target whoever, whenever, Vourdalaks are driven specifically to drink from their loved ones. Family, friends, lovers. It’s how whole villages have gone underground, with kin and neighbors preying on each other in a warped display of grim thirst and affectionate preservation. On the flip side, those not loved get put down. Messily. It would almost be sweet if things like ‘consent’ or ‘neutrality’ could come into it, but no. You are loved and kept or unloved and slaughtered. The only third option is to run—if they let you.

 I really recommend giving all these guys a read. Right now, we’re enjoying a bit of a vampiric/Dracula renaissance. Silly stuff like the What We Do in the Shadows series is going full blast, Castlevania is entering another run, and the Count has a whole slew of movies lined up. While I very much did not care for this year’s, The Invitation, 2023 is due to dish out a fun dark comedic romp called Renfield centered on our favorite inventor of the Victorian small-scale turducken (with Nicholas Cage as Dracula!), and a genuine horror movie offering with, Last Voyage of the Demeter, directed by the same man behind The Autopsy of Jane Doe. Promising stuff!

My fingers are crossed that between all that and the clear popularity of Dracula Daily, we can dust off some other coffins and, maybe, give these older undead characters some overdue love. (At a safe distance.)

[sellystew]

I’m not a Season 5 hater by any means, I overall enjoyed the season and was just happy to see my boys on screen again, but my biggest gripe from it was Lincoln’s “backstory” that filled the space between seasons 4 and 5. When Linc was a hoodrat pre-Season 1, it was because he NEEDED to be, to get food and money to keep Michael afloat and send him to school. The debt he was in was the first in the domino effect that got him set up for murder in the first place.

So why, after all of the bullshit he and Michael went through getting his ass out of prison and exonerated, keeping him ALIVE, believing Michael DIED for this in the end, does he then go back and do it all over again essentially? Hang with the wrong crowds, and ultimately end up indebted to shady individuals AGAIN. I sincerely don’t believe Lincoln could be so stupid, even in his depression, to risk going back to prison or turning up dead and undoing all of Michael’s hard work.

Not only that… Him and Sofia aren’t together anymore? No mention of LJ? LJ was Linc’s whole motivation spanning multiple seasons, and now he hasn’t even mentioned his name? Not even an explanation for his absence? It feels like they butchered a whole portion of his character just because they didn’t want to tie up the loose ends.

Anyway I still am happy we GOT another season at all, and it really isn’t SO bad, but it really does feel like they didn’t put a lot of care in Linc’s story, even though he is quite literally a half of the heart of Prison Break. Just my two cents.

[madamescarlette]

You ever have to be like, "no babe you're not bone-breakingly heart-rendingly sad, you just had less than five hours of sleep"? Yeah.

[immamapletreekid]

playing pokemon black... started tearing up at skyarrow bridge