#but i wasn't disabled enough last year to get put on it

[bunn-iiii]

kinda wishing I was dead rn

[dreamlogic]

...

[pastorpresent]

insp by this right here, by @septicsoldier13. thank you for the prompt lovely! :))

-

They were short on bills this month.

Logan's shitty job at some scummy bar didn't exactly leave him rolling in cash (not to mention the seventy dollars he was docked for drinking the supply), Wade hadn't made all that much in commission, and Al's disability cheque didn't stretch far.

Rent was covered, so was water and electric, but that left heat unpaid.

Logan figured it wouldn't be a big deal. It was July- and there was a pretty intense heatwave hitting the city currently. They likely wouldn't need the heat for the next month anyway.

The apartment was chilled, but it wasn't cold by any means, which was why he was confused when he got home one evening and Wade was walking around making dinner with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and what looked to be two sweaters on, alongside thick sweatpants.

Logan was sweating just looking at him.

"I know you're pissed I got docked the alcohol money, but aren't you overplaying it a little, bub?"

Wade jumped at his voice, clearly not hearing him enter. The blanket dropped to the kitchen floor, and the merc looked mildly embarrassed.

"I was... cold," he said quietly, and it was... odd. There was no jokes, none of the usual outrageous comebacks, and Wade was just staring at the blanket now crumpled on the floor, almost with a fucking longing expression, and Logan would admit that often the idiots jokes flew right over his head (he wasn't exactly caught up with the last fifty years of media), but he really didn't get this one.

"You were cold? It's not hot in here but it's not cold," Logan pointed out, pretty much over Wade's dramatics.

He'd had a long shift at work, split up about four fights, kicked three people out and chased two couples trying to fuck in the filthy bathroom all between making stupid drinks as his own fingers itched for alcohol.

All to say, he really didn't have the energy for whatever dumb joke this was a part of.

"You're gonna give yourself heatstroke, and you look fucking ridiculous," he deadpanned, and Wade shrugs, doesn't say anything, which makes something heavy settle in Logan's gut.

Whatever, not his problem, right?

He left to go shower.

//

Wade had stripped down into sweats and a single sweater by the time they retire to the couch.

Logan is in his vest and flannel pyjama pants, and he's warm, but he doesn't mention Wade's layers this time.

The TV is on, some shitty episode of some shitty reality show Wade insists he has to watch, and Logan's focusing on it, until he's not.

His attention wanders over to the merc sat on the other end of the couch. It's not uncommon, Logan tends to spend more time watching Wade react to whatever dumb shit is on rather than watch it himself, for reasons he doesn't have the energy to analyse.

Somethings wrong.

Because Wade isn't watching the TV either. His eyes are distant, staring at the floor, and he's shivering violently, teeth practically chattering as he curls in on himself, knees hugged to his chest, and it's like he's...

"You're cold," Logan concludes aloud, but this time the words hold no frustration, because he'd seen Wade be committed to jokes before - but never on this scale. It's not a joke, or some sort of prank at Logan's expense.

Wade nods, and Logan is up and crouching in front of him immediately, sticking a hand against his forehead. Wade practically leans into his body's warmth, shuddering, and jesus christ - the mercs skin is like ice.

"The hell? Are you sick? Can you even get sick?" Logan touched the exposed skin of Wade's wrist, and sure enough - it was freezing.

Wade laughed softly, "I'm always sick, it's just... another side effect," he explained, and it took Logan a minute to recall what the cause of Wade's scars was. The cancer.

"But... your mutation, that stupid programme, I thought it cured you," Logan frowned.

"Not... cured. Just sort of put it on the back burner. It can't kill me, because my body is constantly regenerating the cells it kills, but it's there, and sometimes the symptoms hit a bit harder than usual," Wade explained, looking self conscious, as if this was something Logan would mock him for.

"Why the fuck didn't you say something when we sacrificed the heating this month?"

"We needed it the least-"

"I would've found a fuckin' way if I knew you'd suffer! I'm going straight down there tomorrow, I'll use my tip money to pay it," Logan stated, and Wade's eyes widened.

"No, peanut, you're saving that up for your motorcycle-"

"Fuck that, I'm not having you be uncomfortable in your own home," Logan huffed, "now wait here," he tossed a blanket from the chair over to Wade, then headed to their bedroom.

He headed to Wade's set of drawers first, but pivoted to his own. His hoodies were bigger - more fabric, more warmth, right? Definitely. He didn't just want to see Wade wrapped up in his clothes. That would be fucking dumb, because he wasn't a thirteen year old girl with a school crush.

He grabbed the obnoxiously pink Hello Kitty blanket from their bed too, and then stuck into Al's drawers and grabbed the hot water bottle she used when her back was giving her a hard time. He grabbed one of her heating pads from the medication cupboard too, making a note to buy her some more the next time he did their grocery run.

A few minutes later, items in hand and hot water bottle sufficiently warmed, he reentered the living room.

Wade had the blanket over his lap, but Logan could still see the slight tremble of his shoulders, as much as he was now trying to hide it.

His stomach twisted with guilt for his earlier words.

Logan sat beside him, "lift you're shirt up, just for a minute," he ordered as he opened the heat pad.

"At least buy me dinner first, or I'll kiss and tell. Who am I kidding? If we kiss I'm definitely telling, I'll go on the local news-" Wade's usual tirade of rambling was somewhat comforting, not that Logan would ever tell him that, but even so it's usual flow was lost behind the chattering of teeth.

"Wade," Logan interrupted, trying for exasperated but knowing he probably fell a bit short, "Shirt up, bub," he repeated.

Wade still looked hesitant, staring at him like he'd lost his mind, and Logan sighed, grabbing the hem of the sweater and doing it himself, using his other hand to stick the heat pad on.

"What are you- oh," Wade shivered again, arching his back a little into the heat source.

It only took a second for Logan to reboot his brain, and he quickly dropped Wade's shirt.

"Here," he shoved the hoodie, blanket, and hot water bottle into his lap, and Wade stared at the collection, and the tiny tug of a smile made Logan's heart jump a little in his chest.

"Awh peanut, you're the sweetest," he gushed, and it was supposed to be a tease, he knew that, but there was also something genuine there.

"Just warm yourself up," Logan muttered in response, avoiding his gaze.

He returned back to his seat, occasionally glancing over to Wade. The merc settle back down, both blankets wrapped around him, drowning in Logan's hoodie, the hot water bottle hugged to his chest.

He looked... cute, his nose and eyes visible beneathe the layered cocoon.

Logan did go back to focusing on the show, but he didn't stop his sideways glances, and it didn't take long to notice Wade was still shivering a little.

"Are you still cold?"

"No-"

"Wade," Logan warned, practically growled in his direction, and the younger man sighed.

"It's not... I know I shouldn't be, it's just... weird. It's like it's embedded into my fucking bones, I can't..." Wade trailed off, and he sounded miserable.

"Just come here, you dumbass," Logan said, rushing the words out before he could change his mind.

And if Wade looked at him like he was crazy earlier, now he was regarding him as if he'd grown a second head.

"You've done more than enough, Lo. I just need to get my shit together-"

It wasn't up for debate, and Logan wasn't fucking debating it. He grabbed Wade and yanked him closer, earning a yelp of surprise.

He made quick work of pulling him in close, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragging him into his body heat.

"Logan, you really don't need to-"

"Shut up and watch the TV," Logan grumbled, staring pointedly at the screen as to not meet the eyes burning holes into him currently.

Wade did give in eventually. He snuggled down into Logans side, head resting on his shoulder and a sweater-pawed hand coming up to lay on his chest. Logan wrapped an arm around his waist in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

Wade did stop shivering, eventually, and there was a mumbled 'thank you' against his neck.

Logan just squeezed his waist in acknowledgement, and neither made a move to separate.

//

The next time, Logan didn't need Wade to say a damn thing.

It wasn't the bills going unpaid this time, either, because Logan prioritised heat as much as he did the base rent when working out their money these days, and had even spent some of his spare cash on an overly loud but functional portable heater as the weather grew colder.

(Of course Wade's favourite method of warming up remained... him, but Logan really had no qualms with that. He found himself almost a bit jealous when Wade opted for the heater before himself, usually when he was busy, and Logan found himself purposefully dropping whatever he was doing to sit on the couch and drag Wade up against him. He absolutely did not glare at a portable heater, because that would be insane.)

No, this time they'd been invited to a Christmas night out alongside the X-men.

Logan had been reluctant to go, still not all that comfortable seeing the team after previously seeing them all... but Wade had begged, and pleaded, because apparently this was a yearly thing and he'd never been invited before.

That alone had only served to piss Logan off more, but Wade had been so excited - and so he sacrificed their quiet night in for a pub crawl around the city.

He'd already caught Wade shivering a few times in the warmth of their apartment that day, but the merc was quick to deny it, likely thinking (and accurately so) that Logan wasn't going to let him go if he thought he was having a bad day in terms of maintaining his body heat.

He'd watched Wade dress with a frown, "at least stick a shirt on under your sweater. You not got any clean sweats you can wear? Those jeans are too thin," Logan had lectured, and Wade had pouted in that way that typically spelt trouble for the older mutant.

"I don't wanna look stupid! Have you seen what I'm working with here? The least I can do is dress nice," Wade gestured to his face, to his scars, and Logan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from immediately jumping on the defence, because he'd probably call Wade gorgeous or something equally as eyebrow raising in the process.

"Fine, but you bring a jacket," he said, and Wade rolled his eyes but agreed.

They'd been out for a couple of hours. The drinks were flowing (Logan had cut himself off at three beers, which was a personal best), and everything was going... oddly well. Logan felt more at ease around the team than he had since he arrived in this universe, and it was nice.

He was talking to Hank, when Scott came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Wade's asking for you, Logan," Logan frowned.

Wade had dissapeared a little while ago in order to go dance with Storm, Morph and Jean.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, already on his feet.

"Bathroom. He doesn't look great, dunno if he's had too much to drink," Scott replies, and Logan nods, heavily doubting the explanation.

"Thanks, Scott," he says, before making his way through the crowd and into the bathrooms at the back of the club.

When he enters, Wade is perched against the sinks, shivering violently, his whole body trembling and teeth going so fast he could hear them clinking together. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"W-won't stop, m' cold," Wade whimpered, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks standing out harshly against his pale palour.

Logan's immediate reaction is one of frustration, "I told you that you needed more layers!"

The scolding only earned a small nod, and a sniffle as Wade looked away.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'm just... gonna go home," he said, pushing up from the sinks to leave, but even his legs were shaking, and when he tried to walk the violent trembles knocked him off balance.

Logan was quick to catch him, wrapping his arms around the merc. Wade leaned into his warmth almost instinctively.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Logan said, but his voice held more concern than anger now, as he steadied Wade on his feet.

He didn't expect the mutant to burst into tears.

Logan didn't do great with tears, especially not when it was somebody he genuinely cared about. He very almost ran out of there, went to grab Jean or Storm or even Hank - anyone who was better at this shit than he was, but he had a feeling Wade wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing him in this state.

Shit, did he even want Logan here right now? He might have asked for him earlier, but he clearly wasn't being much help. He'd made him cry, for fucks sake.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I know I should've listened I just- I wanted to just feel slightly normal for once," Wade cried harder, and Logan found himself pulling the shaking merc into his arms again, tucking him against his chest.

"I'm not mad, bub. I get it, I do. I'm just worried about you," Logan sighed, and God, Wade really was like a block of ice on his hold.

"'M sorry," Wade hiccuped, and Logan shushed him softly.

"It's fine, honest. Let's get you home and warmed up, hm?" Logan suggested, running his hands over Wade's arms in an effort to ease the chill.

"Yeah," Wade agreed tiredly, and Logan guided him out the bar, giving Jean an excuse of Wade not handling his alcohol too great (which was at least somewhat true, because the merc was definitely teetering into the emotional drunk category if his display in the bathroom was anything to go off) and hailed them a cab home.

He helped Wade to the couch, burying him in blankets and setting up the heater directly in front of him. When he turned to leave, a hand escaped from the mountain of fleece to curl around his wrist.

"Cuddles? Please?"

Logan was surprised he didn't turn into a puddle on the spot. It was fucking ridiculous. If anyone else dared to grab him like that, make such a request with big devastated puppy dog eyes, he would've sliced them into three even pieces.

Wade was making him soft. He didn't feel as repulsed by that thought as he probably should've.

"In a minute, bub. Let me go get you some stuff first, alright?"

Wade nodded, letting go reluctantly.

Logan made quick work of gathering the usual. It had become almost a routine at this point.

He made Wade a hot chocolate too, knowing how much the merc adored the sugary drink. He was only making it to warm him up though, obviously.

When he returned, Wade had burrowed completely beneath the blanket pile, and Logan had to immediately shut down the adorable that his unhelpful, traitorous brain supplied.

He put the hot chocolate on the table, and the smell had Wade popping his head out, staring at the drink.

"You made me hot chocolate?"

"Don't get used to it," Logan replied, and shoved a pair of his own sweatpants and his own hoodie against Wade's chest.

"Get these on."

"These are yours y'know," Wade said, running a hand over the sweatpants.

"Yours are dirty," Logan shrugged.

They were. Apart from a black pair at the bottom of his closet, but Logan was prepared to swear under oath that he'd never seen them before in his life.

Wade made quick work of getting changed. Logan turned to face the wall, and while Wade didn't say anything, Logan could feel the assholes smirk.

Once he was done, Logan joined him on the couch, climbing beneathe the layers of blankets despite the fact that he tended to run pretty hot. He could get closer to Wade this way.

He stuck the heat pad on his neck, the hot water bottle against his stomach (Wade's very own one now, with hello kitty sewn onto the cover - early Christmas gift from Logan) and wrapped him up in his arms, until Wade's entire body weight was resting against him, sprawled against his chest.

"Logan?" Wade asked after a while of silence, the only sound being the TV and humming of the heater.

"Hm?"

"You're the best wolverine," Wade said softly, and Logan glanced down at the merc, snuggled against his chest, eyes half lidded. He'd stopped shivering.

"Only for you, bub," he hummed in response, very almost kissing the top of his head, but settling on running a hand through it instead.

Wade made a happy sound, and Logan was just glad no one was around to see the stupid smile it put on his face.

[obae-me]

Happy Birthday to my favorite boy who I love with my whole soul!

He's ostentatious, yes. It's hard to think otherwise with his title of Pride, his extravagant clothes, his dramatic entrances, and his peacock-like aura; always strutting about with his head held high and his metaphorical and oftentimes literal wings held out fluttering behind him.

So, it's easy to forget how much he loves simplicity. How he craves normalcy.

You'll fully admit you had misjudged him when his first birthday with you rolled around. Rumors forced visions of Diavolo putting a screeching halt over the whole kingdom, making everyone come out of their homes and business in droves just to celebrate. He'd have a limo or flying carriage take him to an exclusive five-star restaurant, drinking millennia old Demonus so expensive, one drop could have Mammon rolling in money for months. All the while decked up to the nines- the tens, even.

But, you quickly learned that those symbols of opulence were not what he wanted.

However, this year, you still found doubt clawing at your insides. Was this enough? His brothers assured you that what you all had planned was more than adequate, but it was still difficult to think so. You wanted to give him the world... Now you knew Diavolo's struggles firsthand when it came to the fallen angel.

After he had fallen asleep, you'd rolled over and disabled the timer on his phone. Mammon had already somehow snuck in and stolen Lucifer's alarm clock, eliminating his backup (which might already be sold at this point). He could sleep in now. Diavolo had already given Lucifer the day off, but old habits died hard, and everyone assumed he'd be up before he needed to.

The plan was set. He'd wake up to already-made coffee he could sip in bed before lumbering down to breakfast in his pajamas. There would be no arguing, the house would be clean, and everyone was ready to participate in a historical museum tour that was showcasing demon adaptations of human technologies. One of which was the first magical rendition of an assembly line.

Then you'd head out to have tea and snacks in the Royal Gardens. It would be just you, him, and Diavolo (with Barbatos serving of course) while the others set up a party at the House. The only ones attending would be family and close friends. It would be then that he opened presents, ate his favorite homemade dinner, and drank a little in the company of others while playing different games. Then while the night was fairly young, you'd offer to take him away.

As you rolled over in bed, listening to his light breathing as he slept soundly, you couldn't help but feel both nervous and excited for what you had planned for him. For months, you had tried scouting for the perfect gift. Was this...enough? It deviated from what you would normally plan to get him. It wasn't a cursed record or a set of cufflinks or a tie or anything like that. This year, you'd managed to find a music box. It played a lovely little tune that had the sort of melody that forced you to go quiet, chills running down your spine. But this wasn't just any music box. No. Under certain conditions, it would show the listener the memory that would make them the happiest in that moment. And the conditions were easy, one only needed to turn the winding key exactly six times.

Thinking about presenting it to him made you all giddy inside, knowing that he could use it whenever he felt particularly stressed...but also more anxiety allowed itself to flood your nerves. What if it had somehow broken in the spot you'd hidden the gift in?! Did you check it twice last night? Yes. But stranger things had happened in this house, broken things were actually quite common. So, you'd check on it again...just to be sure.

You eyed Lucifer as you slipped out of bed, keeping the mattress from bobbing too much as you tip-toed your way out of his room. Straight to the planetarium you went, assured by the youngest sibling that he'd keep it safe by shooing Lucifer out of the area if he got too close, which was so common already the eldest shouldn't get suspicious. Slipping your way into the room, you rushed over to the specific chair you had hid it behind. The ground was cold as you sat down on it, your legs crossed over each other as you sighed in relief as the intact music box was pulled into your lap.

"Might as well give it a test run," you muttered to no one but yourself as the key clicked six times. Music poured out into the room as you opened the lid. Mist seemed to shimmer a little in the air, a scene projected into the magic. Faint voices played into your mind, syllables almost twinkling in time with the notes.

"You worry too much." A familiar voice had you smile a bit sheepishly, an old memory of Lucifer shaking his head at you being the music box's memory of choice. "I've told you time and time again that you don't need to fret over impressing me, or whatever that silly word you said was." Ah, yes...you remembered this now...it was some time ago, worrying over some kind of RAD gala. Even now you weren't exactly sure what the specific thing you had panicked so grievously over was, but you had been so anxious over letting everyone down, especially the one who you held so close to your heart. In the image, Lucifer grabbed your face, looking so deeply into your eyes, it was as if he were reaching through the haze to assure you all over again. "And if I must, I will continue to tell you time and time and time again, even if my jaw must break from the strain. So take a breath, relax your shoulders, and remember that--"

"I love you," something echoed. You jumped, your arms pulling the music box close to your body instead of launching it in the air. You shut the lid as you glanced over your shoulder.

"L-Luci..."

The demon chuckled a bit as he tucked the fabric of his robe tighter against his body as he came up behind you, getting on his knees and resting his chin sleepily on your shoulder. "Should I be offended or pleased that you're sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet up with another me?"

You audibly sighed. So he saw... "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Answering a question with a question are we?" As he mused he wrapped his arms around your torso.

"Answering my question to your question with another question?" you quipped right back.

Even without fully seeing him you could feel his eyes roll. He gave you a squeeze and pressed his cheek right next to yours. "Am I to assume...perhaps rather selfishly...if all the secrecy is to imply that this interesting little thing is mine?"

A long pause settled between you. Was this...a bit of disappointment bubbling inside you? "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

If anyone knew the tragedy of derailed plans, it would be him. He hummed in apologetic understanding. "I can pretend like I didn't see it."

That actually had you chuckle a bit, shaking your head. You scooted on the floor to turn around to face him. Grabbing one of his hands, you placed the gift inside his palm. "Happy birthday, Lucifer. May this uplift you in those darker moments when I can't be there. May your birthday this year add to the pool of happy memories to choose from. May I be by your side for another birthday, and the birthday after that, and so many more to come." You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, chuckling at his slightly wild bed-hair that you were just now getting a good look at.

He went a bit silent, and you could've sworn as his eyes shut for a moment, a little bit of color came to his cheeks. He set your gift off to the side of himself as his arms wrapped around you once more, pulling you into a tight embrace. "And may I get to tell you time and time and time and time again...how much I love you."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being upset that my boyfriend of 3 years doesn't remember our anniversary even though i know he has adhd? ☕️☕️

I (26 W) have been dating my partner (32 M) for over 3 years now. He is officially diagnosed with ADHD and I am currently waiting for my own diagnosis for ADHD. He got diagnosed shortly before we got together and he has opened to me about how insecure he is over his disabilities causing a rift between us since all his previous relationships end with his partners leaving after they "get tired of dealing with his issues" because he also has autism and has been rude before in regards to my weight despite knowing that i am recovered from an eating disorder and this is the context in which his insecurities were disclosed to me. I also don't mean rude like accidentally, he literally put his hands on my stomach and said "what is this" after we had already had several Big Fights in regards to his previously rude behavior. For further context, I told him on our second date that I have a strict boundary around food and my weight and would appreciate it if he kept comments about my body weight or how much i eat to himself because it's triggering for me.

I try to be mindful of his limitations but recently, he asked me if he had forgotten our anniversary. This wouldn't bother me as much if it wasn't our third anniversary coming up in a couple of weeks and if I hadn't repeatedly told me over our time together the exact date of our anniversary. Now, I don't expect him to remember dates off the top of his head. I struggle with that information myself but what I DO hold against him is the fact that he KNOWS he forgets things and doesnt make ANY effort to have a failsafe against that. I put everything in my phone and he WORKS in tech so he knows how easy it is to set a repeat event with reminders nowadays so I don't understand why he can't just fucking figure out how to remember our anniversary without constantly making me be the one to remind him. I have told him exactly this and asked him why he didn't write it down over the last 3 years if he knows he's bad with dates. he said "that's a good point" and that was that. Now, he keeps trying to manipulate the information out of me by asking me when I'm like half asleep because he "thought i might slip up and just tell him."

Am I in the wrong for being mad over this? it feels like he doesn't care enough to do the bare minimum of being in a relationship with another person. I've dated others before with ADHD and it's never been a fucking issue before for them to remember our anniversary. I myself put in the effort when I care about someone to do the bare minimum and write down information I want to remember about someone. I just don't understand why I feel so guilty over getting mad about this when I feel like I have every right to be upset because it's not like I haven't been forthcoming before, it's not like i haven't repeatedly told him over the years and he puts in birthdays to his calendar so like why doesn't he care enough to put our anniversary into it? He wants to marry me but I dont want to spend the rest of my life reminding him to care enough about me to remember things like my birthday, our anniversary or my eating disorder.

But I also know that expecting people with ADHD to remember things is kind of an ableist move and I don't want to start an argument where I'm being a dick to his disabilities. So WIBTA if I decided to make this into a big deal because it is for me knowing my partner has ADHD and cannot help being so forgetful all the time?

What are these acronyms?

[chrysoula]

Albedo spent sixty years rescuing Nahida from her cage, because he was looking for a challenge to test himself against. He didn't spend much time thinking about how, after the rush of satisfaction had faded, he would be in possession of a newborn god of wisdom who was so lost she tried to go back into her cage.

"Why are you here?" she asked, puzzled, as soon as the door to her cage opened. "There's so much-- You did so much, so why are you here?"

He stared at her as all of his sense of accomplishment washed away.

She began to gabble. "I knew something was happening, I could see your echoes, the ripples like a fish underwater, and I didn't know what you could want but I helped you when I could, because I wanted to see them beaten so why are you here?"

Because this is the finish line. But he knew better than to say that. Instead, he ran a rapid post-mortem on his plans over the last sixty years. When had the flaw been introduced, and how could he compensate for it?

"Okay," she said into the silence. "Now what?" Her eyes reminded him of glass marbles.

"I don't know what you want me to do," she said bitterly after a moment. "There's nothing I can do."

It was a worldview alien to Albedo. Ever since his mother abandoned him, he'd practiced turning his knowledge into power over the world around him. Before they called him a mastermind, they called him a meddler, and usually he didn't bother tidying up when he was done. 

"Oh. I see," she said, drawing her own conclusion and dropping her gaze. "You didn't come for me after all. How stupid I am." 

And even then, he struggled. He could see the potential shapes of the consequence he'd created and he didn't like them. He'd done something terrible and he had to repair it, but how--??

Tears began to spill from those green eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just not good enough yet. I shouldn't... I shouldn't get involved." And, wiping her eyes, she'd turned to step back into the cage.

That, at least, he could respond to. "No, don't do that. It would only make things worse."

"What?" She half-turned, her mouth open in surprise.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" That was probably a safe thing to ask in the situation. The government imprisoning her had been thoroughly disabled that morning. And newborns were often hungry.

"What?" she repeated, and then ran over to him. "Did you change your mind?"

Pleasantly, he said, "I think you did, but that's not an important detail at the moment. Why don't we sit down and talk about a few things?"

She promptly sat down, looking up at him with clear curiosity. He sat down on the ground too, refining his evaluation of her. "First of all, do you have a name of your own? One that doesn't belong to the Archon?"

"Nahida," she said, possibly for the first time. She looked a little surprised, in any case.

"I'm happy to meet you, Nahida. My name is Albedo." He gave her a friendly smile, and she stared at him like she was decoding his face. "Let's try to figure out what you'd like to do now."

"May I ask a question first?" She spoke with a respectfulness he didn't deserve. Not from her, anyhow. He'd have to earn it first.

"Please do. I'll do my best to answer it." While she formulated her thoughts, he began to synthesize some fish snacks he hoped she'd find palatable.

"Beyond your name, who are you?" It was a question carefully considered, and not the one he expected. But her earnest gaze remained fixed on him.

He considered his own response. It wasn't a question he was in the habit of answering. "Mostly, I plan things for other people. I'm quite clever and I've lived a long time compared to most, so I have certain advantages I enjoy sharing. In quite a few places, I'm considered a criminal, because what I help people do is often illegal. " He offered her the fish snacks. "I also engage in projects of my own, like this one."

She accepted one and nibbled on it. He observed as her eyes widened and she nibbled a bit more before finally making a face and putting it down. "I don't know how to taste it right. I'll work on it later."

"Is that what you want to do?" He saw this as a natural way of leading back to the core topic, but when she flinched, admitted to himself that such directness might have been a little cruel after already thrusting so much change on her unannounced.

"Do you think it tastes good?" she asked him uncertainly.

"Yes, I do."

She thought for a moment. "I'd like to learn to like it too, then. And I want to stay with you, please."

Did gods imprint? He'd never looked into the question. But the truth remained: she might be the god of wisdom, but she was also a powerful and traumatized child. If he walked away now, one way or another, she'd show up in his life again, the worse for it.

Calmly, he said, "Yes, I thought you might say that. Do you also want to rule Sumeru?"

She shrugged, curled up in a ball, rocked back and forth. "Sumeru is a dream to me, a world on the other side of pages and glass." Then she sat up again. "But you are somebody I never imagined existed. That seems more interesting than governing a country that doesn't want me to exist, all by myself."

"I agree," he said. "Still, having Sumeru on a stable footing may be useful in the future, so we should probably sort out the knot I made before we go on our way."

[ilydeku]

listen.. listen.. izuku doesn’t have time for reader because of being a pro hero ANGST.

BREAKING MY HEARTTT

culpability | izuku x reader

Your eyes fluttered open, waking up to the sound of items being shuffled around and bags being zipped up downstairs. At first, you suspected it to be a robbery but your thought changed when you realized Izuku wasn't in bed with you. You leaned over your nightstand and checked your phone. 11:38. What could he be doing up so late? Naturally, you got out of bed, stepped into your white fluffy slippers, and quietly headed downstairs. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the living room coming into view. Izukus's back was turned and he seemed to be packing clothing and toiletries in, not one, but three large suitcases.

"Izuku..." He turned around, surprised by your sleepy voice. "...where are you going?" He gazed upon you with grief.

"I told you, y/n, remember? I have to go on a month's trip to America for a crisis that's been occurring throughout the state. Illegal activities like quirk disabling and amplifying drugs have been being processed throughout the state. Raids, arson, and homicide have also severely increased. America's hero council contacted top heroes from around to world to address the situation until the numbers start to fall," explained Izuku.

"What?" Your eyebrows furrowed once more. You leaned against the stair railing and crossed your arms over your chest. "You never told me this?"

Izuku frowned.

"I did. I said it on the phone last week-"

"But you didn't tell me this was a month-long trip, did you? You said it was for a week."

"I..." He averted his eyes out of guilt, turning around to continue packing. He could feel your eyes burning through him. He could feel you as you stepped closer and closer to him. He could feel every emotion emitting from you. "...I need to do this y/n, it's important." You huffed forcefully, temper clearly shown. Hero work, hero work, hero work. That's all he seemed to care about. There are some times when you wish he hadn't pursued the occupation, but you know that's wrongful thinking. But why doesn't he get it? He has a loving wife and two beautiful children. Does he not see the responsibility here?

"You know what's more important? Being here as a father for our 9-year-old son and 5-year-old daughter, yeah? You never spend enough time at home and you're always off to work every day, barely anytime to say hello or goodbye to them!" You snapped. Clearly, he wasn't paying you any mind.

Izuku sighed. "...It's only one month y/n, I promise I'll be ho-"

"So you're just going to leave us here? How the hell am I supposed to put food on the table when I have to be here with the kids?" Your voice grew louder and louder with every word, your teeth practically bearing. To you, it might've seemed he was ignoring you, but it's quite the opposite really. He flinched a bit with every shout of your voice. He's never seen you with so much fury. It made him miserable hearing your cries and shattering enrage. He stood up and turned around, placing his hands on your waist.

"Don't worry, y/n. The government will be paying us when I'm gone...I have to go soon. There are helpless people out there who need a hero to save them, criminals, to be captured, and chaos to be fought away. I'm sure you'll be f-"

SLAP

Izuku's eyes widened in shock. Your body dropped down to the floor, your hands hiding the flowing tears, followed by erratic breathing. Your face was burning with stress, anger, and sadness. You wanted to apologize for inflicting pain on him, but at the same time, you hoped that it stung as much as his actions did. How could he leave all of a sudden? For a whole month too? What if something bad happens to him? What would happen to you and your kids then? Izuku's reached his hand up to his cheek, still in shock by your measures. He stared down at your broken figure.

"Y/n...-" He crouched down to you and held out his calloused, scar-driven hand. The hand that intertwined with yours on your first date. The hand that slipped the diamond ring on your finger.

You slapped it away.

"No, Izuku. Just go." By then, your little ones were already up, quietly listening from upstairs. "Just go already. Maybe you shouldn't even come back. Leave us here." Tears were falling down his own face. His heart ached from hearing those painful words. He huffed, picking up his luggage and walking towards the front door. As he was about to leave, he muttered, "I'll be back soon," and left without another word. As the front door closed, you shot up and ran to it, swinging it wide open to see Izuku still in view. You clenched your jaw as tears threatened to fall again.

With all your anger, dejection, and sorrow, you cried out at the top of your voice, "You call yourself a hero!? You go around liberating society and its strangers, but you can't even save your own family!?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. There were no tears, no cries, yet he held the most remorseful expression you've ever had the heart to discern.

But he kept going, walking until he was out of sight, into the abyss of darkness you pray he'd never fall into.

support me? :)

[wipbigbang]

OT: An Open Letter From Mod Ragna

So I would like to take a moment to bring something up to all of you on the Discord server, and similar messages will go up on the Tumblr and Dreamwidth. So bear with me.

I have been homeless all of last round and most of this round. I only lucked into the housing I have right now because the city I now live in owns the apartment. I have arthritis, fibromyalgia and Long Covid. I live on a second floor apartment now. So, naturally, considering I am the most able bodied person in my family even with my disabilities, I am the primary caretaker of everyone: I do the cooking, I do the cleaning and as such, I have been building all the furniture we've managed to get.

Up until last night, all three of us were on mattresses on the floor. I gave up a lot of energy making three seperate beds in a non-air conditioned apartment. It was hard work. I just got my daughter's bed up this evening and I am sore. I decided I'd deal with WIPBB business in the morning and was trying to relax and escape the pain I was in.

What I got this evening was a very demanding email from a participant. Now, I will not name names and circumstances, but the tone was demanding and it immediately soured my mood to the point I am still upset nearly a half hour later. I wasn't fast enough in making a correction. Instead of sleeping, I have now updated the posting list, made the corrections that were demanded of me, and I'm about to post a link to the final drafts check-in form and then stay offline for a few days. Maybe. I'm still not sure about that last part.

We are all human. We all have a lot going on. But I've been pretty candid about what's happened with me and, for the most part, everyone is great when it takes me a few days to do something, or we need to change the schedule to accommodate a change in my home life. But I'm partially considering not running this event anymore as well. I put in a lot of time and energy doing behind the scenes work, not to mention I take on about 40 fics a round to do art for. I love this event. But right now? Any enthusiams I had for making art/fic is gone. And I don't know if/when it will come back.

So yeah. That's where it stands right now. The AO3 collection is open, and I will always make sure people get their stuff posted, but I'm going to take a break for at least a day or two, try and get my temper under control, and reevaluate if I want to spend so much time on this event next year, if I even run it next year. So I'm going to keep the claims list open a few more hours, update it when I wake up, and then I'll take a break. Until then, Mod Ragna signing off.

[egg-emperor]

so gonna be real I barely do life updates here anymore but I've got some bullshit coming up in my personal life that's not looking good. I said I was working on finding out what's wrong with my health from doctors and getting help for a bunch of stuff in my life in general and getting a support system and stuff and I was and it was going well and things were looking up

but now I've been forcefully inducted into some programme thing to push me into doing something I'm physically incapable of doing with my disability but it's apparently mandatory or I'll lose some of the support. I don't know why they decided I can when they know of my issues (and they haven't even recieved the form where they're supposed to be checking for my capability yet so wtf) but apparently there's no way for me to opt out and it's going to last for a year at least

and I've seen a lot of negative things about this program when I wasn't even seeking bad reviews, the majority is negative. so my life might be about to go to shit for a while and I'm already feeling miserable and it hasn't even started yet lol. this may genuinely badly affect my mental and physical health which I've been working so hard to deal with lately so it's very upsetting and stressful

I hope it's not going to take up all my time and I can still be as active as I want to be here because it's one of the things that actually brings some brightness to my life. I also hope all the stress it's going to put me through doesn't affect my behavior here and seep into what I do but I'll try my hardest not to let that happen because my blog is one of the very few positive things in my life atm

best case scenario is they realize I can't do this and take me off it but it's not looking good. that would be more likely in a perfect world where people could take invisible (well mostly invisible for me) disabilities seriously. because I'm not even that hopeful about the doctor stuff at this point, maybe it's just because it's taking so damn long for the referrals I need for them to check me out in the areas needed but I don't know if they'll even find out what's up with my chronic pain and or if I'll get a diagnosis

so yeah I think I'm actually just screwed and life is about to become even more painful and exhausting for me than it already is and a hell of a lot more stressful as a result but maybe if it leads to my health worsening like fainting in front of people again it'll be enough for them to see that this was a bad idea haha. I mean first of all my first meeting about this has been booked for me the day I'm literally taking an 24 hour ECG test because they won't even let the doctors try to finally find out what's wrong with me before pushing me to do this ffs

[gayinajar]

Iv spend a lot of the last months being miserable about my physical decline but goddamn my brain sucks too lmao

I love science, and maths. I spent a year dragging myself through higher level maths before I had to drop to ordinary because I just wasn't good enough. I did biology for fun in school. I always, always wished I could have done higher maths, physics, chemistry, higher irish, applied maths. I wish I could have had more options. But I spend my entire secondary school time with undiagnosed adhd, autism, dyslexia, and possibly other mental disabilities that I never got help for.

Along with mourning a life of normalcy in terms of my physical abilities, I mourn the years I spent struggling three times as hard to get half the result my peers could. I still do not think I am academically intelligent because I spent years struggling. Years putting in more effort and seeing less results than anyone around me.

There was a guy in a couple of my classes I payed too much attention to. He did all the "smart classes". Higher maths, applied maths, two sciences (I think physics and chemistry). In a lot of ways I found similarities between us. We both sat out of p.e., took every chance to avoid it, were always reading. He talked so little practically no one heard him speak more than once in two years, I only spoke to others when I needed to. I spent two years comparing myself to him because I felt like he was the smarter version of me. He felt to me like what I could have been, were I less disabled. Even now that I'm out of secondary school and going to college next year, I can't help but think about how he likely could choose almost any college, any course in the country. Meanwhile I had 3 options I could reasonably achieve to do the course I wanted.

I'm 18. I'm sick of mourning what I could have been. What I could have achieved. Why do I have to spend my life mourning.

[r4v3nr0s3]

HELLO!

SEPTEMBER 22 is my B-day, I am trying to get my completed series THE EMERALD FORMULA, published.

So I’ve started a GoFundMe! Please check out my story below and if you could like, share, or donate it would mean everything to me.

LEARN MORE BELOW

I'm Raven Rose a queer, Latino, chronically ill, and disabled author and artist. Welcome to my journey as I get ready to be on my own for the first time in 15 years, go back to school, try to get on federal disability in the United States, and get my first novel published. September 22 is my Birthday month so if anyone is feeling extra festive, in lieu of gifts, I'd appreciate help here!

I’m restarting from scratch after a near decade of health problems, and despite great efforts to re-etner the workplace, 6 months time doing what I used to love, put me back in the hospital. For more about me visit my web page !

My lifelong dream has been to become a writer, but I can't do it alone. You can help me reach my goals and achieve my wildest dreams, and I could not be more grateful! Please do whatever you can do - like, share, and/or donate. I'm finally investing in myself and I believe my ideas and this story deserve investment too, so that's why I'm asking for your help.

Now for the goods!

THE EMERALD FORMULA is a series I've been working on close to 20 years.

The Working BLURB for novel 1 is as follows:

Renata Salcedo has never made a wave in her life. In the last few years though, she's broken up with her long term boyfriend, moved into her own place, and was diligently working towards the career of her dreams: a spot at the Smithsonian.

Fine... Adrenaline Junkie, Renata was not. She learned to stay small and figured out how to move quietly enough to stay unnoticed and survive. But it wasn't like she was unsuccessful. Her carefully planned path of baby steps lead her to exactly where she wanted to be: living her boring life and people leaving her alone to do her job. If anything, the job provided her all the excitement she needed. Unearthing old civilizations? Cataloguing the past through objects and art? Thrilling stuff! All done from the safety atop of an orthopedic pillow from behind a desk.

There was only one teensy problem with Renata's goals.

An entire world she knew nothing about existed right under her nose, and it's going to disrupt her boring little life whether she's planned for it or not. And really she can't complain too much, as it all starts with one of her absolute, most favorite things...

A Book

(Story EXCERPT at the bottom too)

REALM OF MATTER is the first novel in a complete 3-Book series called THE EMERALD FORMULA. At this point, the series needs refinement and editing, so both developmental and line editing. Funds will go towards paying the editors. Whatever is left over will go towards my publishing goals, and my intent to get an art degree and start doing marketing and making book covers. The three mock ups below were all created by me in Vector and Photoshop.

This Epic tale is a paranormal adventure with elements or horror, humor, fantasy, and an underlying slow burn human/humanoid monster romance. It features a diverse cast of human characters who break the mold of the Hero's Journey, and reject its sanctity all-together.

Its universe is heavily based on the History of science, magic, and folklore, focusing mainly on Pagan and Catholic mythology to give this Hero's journey a darkly poignant and comedic edge that digs in and punches up. The magical system is highly elemental, and dives deep into Alchemical and Spiritual theory from thousands of years ago. All of the artwork you see was done by me, a self taught artist (thought I'd like to go back to school next year).

I created my own language and phonetics system, also an alphabet.

All so I could make these transmutation circles based on sacred geometry.

YOU CAN READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

THE EMERAD FORMULA: REALM OF MATTER is a snarky thriller that features a bunch of traumatized, relatable saps often thrust into magical and extraordinary circumstances with not much but found family and magic on their side. But if they can't find hope in a hopeless situation against the ultimate evil, no one can. If you vibe with sacrilege, and enjoy flawed, funny characters, family antics, awkward slow burn romances, complex but accessible lore, legacy heroes, ancient monsters, chaos, magic, and mayhem? You've found the series for you.

Please do whatever is accessible to you: liking, sharing, and donating are all extremely important to make this project a reality. This means a lot to me and I greatly appreciate your support.

Thank you for your time,

Raven Rose

[pidayforpi]

Favorite villain and what you wish we could have seen more of - DT ask

(I am super aware this has been nearly a year and I am so sorry for putting you on hold for so long you don't have to see this but if you do I hope you will like it thank you and sorry ahhhh)

(1) First: Favourite villain...Jim Starling Hum...this is immediately a hard one...

Okay yes...If Mister Starling counts as a "villain", he is my favourite (at least, the first favourite that comes to mind when I see this question). For purely subjective reasons. not my fault that he is my type of duck man a huh huh huh

("The Duck Knight Returns!" literally gave me 2 of my favourite characters in DT17 in 1 episode who then never appear again. Sadge)

But if Jim doesn't count and I turn off my extremely biased mind, I would say Lunaris.

Solely because of his moonvasion plan. As complex as DT17 writing could possibly be (it is still a children's comedy show, after all), the plan is actually quite clever. He really uses Della as much as he can:

(a) Steal the rocket blueprint because I can't for my life build one myself

(b) Get as much information about the Duck Family and their allies, who will be one of (if not) the biggest adversaries I will encounter on Earth

(c) Lastly, fake a betrayal as the casus belli

Perfect.

Honestly, Lunaris only lost because of a lack of resources/knowledge that he can't possibly obtain/predict:

There is literally only 2 military personnel on Moon, while the rest are all civilians (who make up a barely functional army)

One of said military personnel immediately deflected, and that personnel ultimately helps dismantle the plan

He doesn't have all the information about all people on Earth (e.g. Flintheart, Fethry, Gladstone), because he is not based on Earth in the first place (unlike, for example, Bradford)

Our protagonists literally have the power of god and anime on their side (if Zeus wasn't being cringy and childish, the moonvasion would have ended as soon as it had started)

Now that I have finished the entire series, I actually like the resolution to Moonvasion more than that to The Last Adventure. Bradford has everything that Lunaris lacks: He has a functional task force (okay still one person deflected but she is taken care of soon enough). He has all the information about everything he needs. He somehow can disable and overpower the protagonists' power of god and anime.

Bradford is literally winning until he is somehow not anymore.

FOWL is literally OP until it is somehow not anymore.

The Last Adventure is definitely epic, even more so than the Moonvasion arc. It has a wonderful buildup with interconnected stories (one thing I absolutely love about Season 3 is how the Kit Cloudkicker episode - which seemingly is just a cameo episode - is still tied to the main conflict of Season 3). Everything looks amazing. But as an action anime fan the solution to the conflict is one thing I feel somewhat confused about.

For one, I have to agree with Mister Buzzard: "Family is the greatest adventure of all" is not a reasonable rebuttal.

(For any JoJo fans reading this, I think this is the DT17 equivalent of "So it's the same type of Stand as Star Platinum.")

(And speaking of JoJo, Lunaris literally got Kars-ed at the end lmao)

Sorry @shychick-52 if you have no idea what I am talking about, I will stop now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(2) More I wish we could have seen more of...JIM STARLING I wonder...

Okay, I am honestly curious about what they had in store for Negaduck. I think I have seen the behind-the-scene episode idea somewhere (i.e. The ultimately scrapped idea). At the very least, "Let's Get Dangerous!" could have featured my man, but for what it ended up to be now, I am not complaining either.

Other than that, I want to see more interactions between the Duck Cousins, actually (i.e. Donald, Della, Gladstone, Fethry). With DT17 introducing Fethry (for which I will be forever grateful), the quartet (?) being together is something I would like to see more of. Especially with how extensive HDL and Webby has been interacting since literally the first episode of the show, I feel like it would be awesome seeing a grown-up version of this group in the Duck Cousins.

(Perhaps an episode of the 2 groups hanging out together? Moonvasion is the closest there is to something like this)

There are some interactions between the 4 of them, noticeably the Moonvasion mentioned above, and The Last Adventure. But ultimately there could have been more potential, which might have been limited by Gladstone's and Fethry's little screentime (as much as they are part of the Duck Family, both of them are ultimately guest characters).

That being said, this is purely my subjective feeling. If truly implemented into the show, the Duck Cousins thing would be a bonus instead of a missing piece or missed opportunity (e.g. No Della - Gyro interaction whatsoever, despite the rocket-building manual and Oxychew. And I say this not as a shipper). So, just my personal opinion.

[dreamlogic]

2024 year of charlie gets a fucking break (hopefully. maybe. tbd.)

[maintitle]

I watched DS9's It's Only A Paper Moon yesterday, and I want to talk about it because it wasn't until right now that I understood why it slapped me across the face so much, and why I think that episode is so important to me.

This may be triggering to people with disabilities, heart conditions, disabilities from COVID, or medical or military related trauma. Read ahead at your own risk.

I developed a heart condition at 18 from the H1N1 virus (which is why I tell all my friends to take preventive measures if they had COVID, because these kinds of new and unknown viruses can have long-lasting effects on you we don't know yet). While I had a lot of tests and missed a lot of school that year, the effects of that wouldn't be clear for years until at 24 I got a pacemaker/defibrillator put in in what we later found out was a life-saving surgery. The trauma of that event took a long time to catch up with me. While I'm still facing symptoms and limitations from that period of my life, the immediate danger has passed. But it took A LONG time for the fear of what happened to me, the PTSD of that event, to catch up with me. I've dealt with huge panic attacks and hyper-obsessive fears regarding my heart since around twenty-nine, fears I live with and fight through in therapy to this day.

As someone facing those issues, I hooked onto A Paper Moon this watch in a way I haven't before. The issue deals with the loss of Nog's leg in battle earlier in the season, a traumatic experience he had in the middle of a warzone only halfway through their defense. During his recovery, Julian begins to play recordings of I'll Be Seeing You, put together by Vic Fontaine, a semi-aware holodeck program that is really popular on DS9.

Nog returns from surgery at the beginning of the episode, and is walking with a cane. Multiple people on staff, including Julian himself, is concerned over the use of the cane because medically, he shouldn't have a need for it. He shouldn't even be in pain based off of what they know from the new leg and the nerves around it, but he's in pain and having trouble walking. A lot of the arguments in the early episode revolve around people talking behind Nog's back about how they can't understand why he has the cane or why he's in pain when there doesn't appear to be a medical reason for it.

The answer is actually incredibly simple: It's not the leg, it's the trauma from loosing the leg. Nog, who is still incredibly young in the episode, had somehow seen himself as invincible, a young cadet wanting to prove Ferengi can be incredible members of Starfleet, who had seen quite a bit of action and was cocksure, and in one moment he not only lost that bravado, but he also learned he was mortal in one horrifying singular moment.

Obviously, Nog is lucky enough to live in an era where it's possible to replace a lost limb, but that doesn't change the fact that for a horrifying unmentioned, maybe SEVERAL DAY period of time, he was left on a makeshift bed, listening to fighting outside, knowing that he could be attacked at any time, could die at any time from factors not even exterior to him. And now he just has to... go back to life after that horrifying dose of his own mortality.

The only thing that gets him by is that recording of I'll Be Seeing You by Vic Fontaine, because that's the only thing that he had to take him out of that horrifying situation while he laid on that makeshift gurney. The episode explores that idea by having him play it while trying to sleep, and eventually go to the holodeck and try to live in it with Vic after he was shamed for being in bed too long and for listening to said music for too long.

The funny thing is, Vic is the ONLY person, INCLUDING THE COUNSELOR ONBOARD DS9, who recognizes that his pain is valid. Vic, as a hologram, recognizes that his pain isn't crazy, it's as real as the injury he experienced, because Vic has a perspective that none of these hyper-worn-down Starfleet Officers or parental figures in his life has: His LIFE is a series of not-real instances of pain, of happiness, of dealing with other people he knows are holograms. Vic isn't like Moriarty in TNG, he's not like other semi-sentient Holodeck programs, he KNOWS he's a program but he also finds that life to be very real FOR HIM. The feelings of one of his bandmates are as real to him as the problems of Julian walking in to talk about one of the many women he simps for not feeling the same, because despite knowing they're not physically real, he CARES for them and takes their lives seriously.

Nog's feelings are real. His PAIN is real, even if a doctor can't understand why. Nog's in the middle of a long, extended panic attack where he's internalizing a near life-ending medical emergency and doesn't know how to DEAL with it. He loses himself in the program because it's the only place he can get past the trauma of the event, he's hostile to others who try and look at him with pity or as a hero because he doesn't want to be DEFINED by that pain. Vic knows this, and builds him up in other ways. Gives him a life to live, watches him slowly not need the cane and not even realize it, gives him tools and an environment to cope and generally is the only person that validates that trauma.

The episode is maybe one of the series best mental health episodes possible, and DS9 is generally REALLY good with these issues. As someone with medical trauma, I saw myself in Nog. I'm sure others who have experienced disabilities in the military see even more of themselves in him. We relate to it because we're constantly belittled or told our pain is in our heads, when the truth is we FEEL it. I feel it multiple times a month, when I lay down and go to bed and lay on my side just right that I can feel my heartbeat, and then I overanalyze it, and then that leads to a panic attack and me grabbing a pressure cuff or a fingertip pulse whatever it is to see if I'm okay, but by then I can't come down from the panic attack until it's done. I feel it when I'm helping someone move or if I'm on a casual walk and I feel my heartbeat spike, and my mind overreacts and wonders if this is normal exertion or a heart attack.

Not FEELS these things. It's real pain. And Vic doesn't invalidate it. It's as real as the injury itself, and it's not one that he'll ever truly conquer. But the episode gives him time, space and kindness to help him find coping mechanisms in order to continue with his life and dreams, and THAT'S Trek to me. A future where these things can be understood and worked through, without the constant shame that people with disabilities face when describing the trauma responses they suffer on a day-to-day basis.

In the end, Nog is heard. The main characters come to understand that what he felt is real. The episode gives him the time to work through complicated PTSD, and while he's not okay at the end, he's learning to live with it. And it's really fucking special to see this explored with a character we saw grow up into a man, on a show where the future is meant to be better than the present, written by writers in 1998 where they had no right to handle this as well as they did. This was an exceptionally special episode of television.

[dragongirldeity]

there's currently a very rare thunderstorm in San Francisco. i am sitting on my couch and generally enjoying this moment in life, because the past several years have been full of trials and tribulations. life is exhausting as a transfem, since my existence is first and foremost Political, and Up For Debate, while i largely just want to exist with my friends and loved ones and not be bothered.

of course, civilization being what it is right now, i am largely not afforded the luxury of getting to simply not be bothered about my existence. i can tune out some amount of it, for sure, but there's just such a volume of transmisogyny across society that it's always a status debuff i have to work against or put out of mind.

the past few years have been difficult, between graduating shortly before covid-19 (most of my 20s have been a weird haze of quarantining), amicably parting with my partner of 7 years (we have grown and simply have different wants now). i've never actually had many long-term support vectors in my life: i was sent to a religious high school, and wasn't allowed or able to keep in contact with any of my friends from growing up. i am estranged from my parents since they e-stalked me and have generally never respected my boundaries or autonomy as a person, and that's without getting into the mess of them Not Liking Me Being Queer. a lot of my friends have been moving away from the bay area, because building queer-trans community is Fucking Difficult when basically everyone in the bay area is only here transiently (and when a lot of queer stuff in the bay is cis-queer and not trans-queer, too). and that's why i myself am moving away later this year: much of my social graph has moved, and my attempts to regrow things here for the past year-and-change..... haven't been unsuccessful, but i think have helped me realize that even if i have a Fulfilling Social Graph here again, i would still be happier elsewhere, away from all the tech companies and nimbys and generally-constant sunny days (i am a vampire who enjoys the rain).

suffice it to say that life is generally difficult for a lot of trans people right now. life is difficult for your average people in general right now with the general socioeconomic situation we're in. life is more difficult for trans people, since we face nearly constant discrimination and harassment and hate and legislation. and then life can be even more difficult in typical life ways on top of that.

i still have things better than a lot of my peers: my computer autism means i have a reasonably stable job & career path. my best friend, whom i dearly love and cherish, was just in town visiting me last week. a few of my long-time internet friends live a few blocks away, and my two cats unconditionally love me. i do have people in my life who love me and care about my well-being. i am, blessedly, not alone in all this. and on top of all that i am fortunate enough to have found a pretty good therapist who can help me navigate and compartmentalize and process all of the struggles i face, since it's frankly a lot for a disabled autistic transfemme to navigate on my own.

the main thing that has been so hugely positive here is The Internet. the community i have would not really exist if not for The Internet. the social hubs that i cultivate and operate for my friends are, of course, on the internet. i meet friends-of-friends on discord and tumblr and telegram and whatnot, and it's truly great being able to be and feel so connected because of it.

and yet......... even on the internet, we are not free of anything. if anything, we're more vulnerable on the internet; our online identities and presences are intertwined, connected, and visible; it's easy for hateful motherfuckers to find the most vulnerable people online and go after them. if one part of your presence is found, it's a thread a stranger can try and unravel to expose you, to wield against you. at least in person, you can always put up a façade, walling off strangers and giving them nothing else to go off of; online, we just project an entity to be perceived, and often times aren't really aware of everything.

there's. a point here i wanted to make, somewhere. i wanted to say something with all this. i think it's that for a lot of us, we are just tired of all the fucking transmisogyny around every corner. it's already so much struggling to exist as a person In General at this moment in time. It's even harder having to face hate and struggle to exist even online just because you're a transfemme who wants to drop the façade around those like you. we're not allowed to have our own digital communities without outsiders wanting to look in and police us there, too.

for a lot of us, we are simply too tired and overwhelmed from everything else to also deal with this a lot of the time. and yet, deal with it we must, because we will be harassed. we will have headass CEOs saying headass CEO stuff. we will have politicians trying to legislate our right to exist away.

this is a lot to say that i don't regret anything about transitioning or whatever. i love being trans. it's a beautiful experience and i am much better for it, and am wholeheartedly glad to be trans, glad to know the trans people i know, and glad to love as i love. it is, truly, the neverending transmisogyny that is the problem, and it is truly exhausting having to deal with the transphobia and transmisogyny. nowhere is free from it except for the small insular exclusive spaces we carve out for ourselves.

take care of each other. love the transfemmes and transmascs in your life unabashedly, because there's functionally infinite amounts of hate we have to deal with at every corner, and aside from absolutely bodying the hate out of existence, the next best thing you can do to help is to support and love the trans people you know and treat them with compassion.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 1 of Nona the Ninth

Apologies for the AI interlude, back to your regularly scheduled Locked Tomb liveblog

So Nona is a child or childlike person in Harrow's body, and I guess she is maybe having dreams about Harrow's memories, in the case of this chapter, the memory of the pool scene. At least, I think this was a dream, this happens right after she wakes up and after recounting it she says "it's gone already", like she's having trouble remembering a dream

I wonder if Harrow is actually short/skinny enough to pass as a ten-year-old well or if people just think Nona is weird? I guess we will find out exactly how irrational all of that "she's only nine years old!" stuff was from Mercy in that last book

I notice they seem to be using actual paper here. In As Yet Unsent, Judith said that Camilla and Corona both hated the texture of paper, but it seems like Camilla at least has gotten over that. Presumably Pyrrha has actual experience of using paper from 10,000 years ago

It's not clear what kind of recording device Camilla is using, but from what we do get it sounds like an old tape recorder from the 90s. With any kind of modern technology, she would surely be recording Nona with a phone or some similar device that doesn't have physical buttons and is multipurpose rather than just being a recorder, wouldn't she? The Nine Houses seems to be technologically stuck somewhere in the middle ages and probably this is John's fault somehow, but I don't think BOE has that excuse, they seem to have relatively modern technology available and it's been 10,000 years. So why are they using a tape recorder?

Is it important that she not have another tantrum just because she doesn't like them or doesn't like how they make people treat her, or does she do some unconscious necromancy thing during them that puts them all in danger?

So Harrow obviously wasn't like Gideon-level buff or anything, but we never heard anything about her having trouble or getting sore just from walking around. Or is this related to the thing that Judith mentioned, where necromancers get used to supporting their body with necromancy and then when they go to space and don't have any available thanergy they're a bit disabled? Was Harrow supporting her muscles with necromancy all her life and now that her body is occupied by someone who seemingly can't, or doesn't do necromancy, she has trouble with basic things like walking? It didn't sound from Gideon's POV in the last book that Harrow was that weak

You know, Gideon called it a "watch" way back in the very first chapter of Gideon the Ninth:

Is this a Sixth House thing? Or is it trying to do something where Nona only knows whatever language BOE speaks, and somehow the House word that Camilla uses sounds like or means "clockwork" in the BOE language? That doesn't make a lot of sense, those languages should realistically be very different regardless of whether either of them is actually Modern English

So she has been shown multiple alphabets, it sounds like, but she can't recognize letters, at least in handwriting. I wonder if it's an issue with handwriting in particular, or if there's something funky about the way she perceives shapes and lines. She certainly doesn't seem to have any issues with language

I like how they're keeping a tally of Pyrrha's ass jokes, haha. It sounds like they might be tallying other things too

This sounds like some more weird Christian-inspired religious flimflam. I wonder what kind of religious flimflam BOE has, and if it's actually significantly different than the Houses' religious flimflam aside from obviously not being about necromancy

So I guess Camilla and Palamedes got updated by Pyrrha about how she and G1deon achieved Lyctorhood and said that sounds rad, sign us up? Or did something different happen here?

I mean, Palamedes already broke into the fanfiction scene, he's most of the way there to the poor-quality erotica, really

I seem to recall from Dr. Sex that there was some required erotic poetry writing on the Sixth. I wonder what Camilla thought of that

So they're not entirely sure what the actual extent of her cognitive abilities are. I wonder what their theories are about who or what she is, or how this soul came be in possession of this body? I guess possibly her body could have gotten possessed by a ghost from the River at the very end of Gideon's POV in the last book, John did say at the beginning of the book that if Harrow's soul went missing while they were physically in the River something else would come and take its place. But Nona being a random ghost is not very interesting, and thus probably not actually the case. I seem to recall that the last thing Gideon saw before we lost her POV was Alecto, who does indeed seem to have been haunting Harrow at least at some point, but the way that Mercy and Augustine described her as being before John enTombed her is nothing like how Nona is

Who is "her"? Nona? I've gotten the feeling so far that BOE don't know that Nona's body used to belong to a necromancer, they seem to be trying to keep this a secret

So, I guess BOE has captured a Nine Houses barracks that is maybe on a planet or space station or something and are besieging it while they negotiate with the Houses for something? Are they on the thanergy planetoid that Palamedes mentions later? I'm not sure from this conversation exactly what Palamedes thinks should be done with the barracks and exactly what Pyrrha is advocating for instead, and I can tell already that the Nona POV is going to be even less helpful at telling me what is going on as the POV in the previous two books was

Presumably "she" in that last bit is Wake

I'm not sure what the status of this planet they're on is. Is it a refugee planet? Is it involved in the siege?

Nine million people in a city is like, a little bigger than New York City, it's not that crazy. Is the 16 million the rest of the population of the planet? That's really not much for an entire planet, the combined total of 25 million is still 12 million less than the population of the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. And the whole Seventh + Eighth is not even much bigger than New York City, the Nine Houses really is tiny. I guess this is the effect of thanergenic planets on population growth, but like, it sounded from Gideon the Ninth that the Fourth House was relying on a have-as-many-children-as-possible-in-the-hopes-that-some-don't-die strategy, and they are using vat grown babies to accomplish this rather than relying on natural reproduction, so in theory they should have a large population, at least

Kind of interesting, when I was googling the population of Tokyo, google showed me this:

Based on the Wikipedia article, I think this number is the population of Tokyo proper rather than the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Area, but many other sites that document the "population of Tokyo" use the 37-40 million number, possibly because it's more crazy sounding. So the information extraction is technically accurate, but then you look at the first four results:

And you can see that a different information extraction algorithm has highlighted what it thinks is the correct answer in the snippets of these results, and three out of four of them give the bigger number, which is very different than the number that appears at the top of the search results. This overall does not provide a clear answer to the question without actually clicking through to the results, so IMO google's attempt to use information extraction to deliver a quick answer to a simple question has failed, here, even though the algorithm worked. It's also not surprising that the one source that gives the lower number is the actual Japanese government source, they probably have a reduced interest in wowing people about how big Tokyo is

Anyway

So possibly this planet is about to become a casualty of this war, although I still do not understand the politics of this situation, and I gather that We Suffer is a Waker, and now that Wake is gone some other political faction has taken over, possibly the one responsible for nuking John's fleet. Ctesiphon is an ancient Iranian city, and Merv is also an ancient placename in Iran, this seems to be a theme. I guess BOE probably have records of pre-Resurrection Earth and just name everyone and everything after all of that stuff, but based on Wake's name they seem to have lost some cultural context for a lot of it. But Ctesiphon and Merv are actually names that were used as names on Earth, whereas the names for the actual people are not

Lyctor healing abilities are pretty convenient for shaving, haha. Also, I gather this means they do not actually require necromancy to function (although I think it was established in the last book that Pyrrha maybe heals more slowly than G1deon would if he were in control) and I think it was implied at the end of Harrow the Ninth that Nona also has some residual instahealing abilities, although I'm guessing that whether or not Nona can do necromancy is not currently known with certainty by anyone

If Nona is not supposed to be rescuing any animals, I wonder where this specific category of animals to be saved came from? Also interesting that she says this when she probably knows it's not the answer Pyrrha wants. It's not like she can't lie, she said earlier that Pyrrha and Palamedes were speaking loudly, but they weren't

Man, I can tell this was written by someone who has never had to wear glasses regularly. I've switched back and forth between glasses and contacts at various point in my life, it's really not a big issue to adapt to not wearing glasses ever after having worn them every day for a long time, in my experience it's the not being able to see things part that is what primarily reminds you that you aren't wearing glasses and so when you can see things because you're wearing contacts you don't feel the need to put on glasses before going out. You also don't wear them 24/7, you take them off to sleep, it's totally normal to veg out around the house or leave to get the mail without your glasses, your glasses are not a phantom limb that you miss, what prompts you to push them up your nose is the feeling of them slipping down, you don't get the urge to do that if the glasses are not on your face at all. If I woke up in a new body with 20/20 vision I would never wear glasses again and I would not miss them, or probably ever think about them again

So maybe this planet is about to get eaten by a resurrection beast, and it's not to do with the war at all? Also, like, Gideon killed a bunch of Heralds in the last book, while in an unfamiliar and not very strong body, I feel like Camilla could do perfectly well against them in her own body, though it might be a problem if Palamedes surfaces during that event

I just want to finish by saying that it's pretty funny that there are four people living in this apartment, and not a single one of them is the singular occupant of their original body