#i need to know if i'm an aberrant result

[iamthedukeofurl]

Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”

In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.

[sanguinesmi1e]

I am begging the Warrior Cats, DC comics, and Danny Phantom fandoms to learn the difference between "rogue" and "rouge."

Normally I don't really care too much about misspellings on the internet. Language is fluid and use changes conventions, bla bla bla. This is a pet peeve I'm apparently never gonna get over, though.

The letter combo "ge" often makes a soft "j" or "zh" sound. Like in beige, garage, general, gouge, etc. But because English has borrowed things from many languages, this rule isn't consistent.

The letter combo "gu" results in a hard "g" consonant. As in guerilla, Prague, dialogue, penguin, guess, etc.

As an aside, this is how you know how to pronounce the two different Gs in "language" because they follow this rule exactly.

Therefore, "rouge" is pronounced "rüzh" and refers to a red color, typically a cosmetic for one's cheeks (aka blush). Also the name of the DC villain Madame Rouge.

Conversely, "rogue" is pronounced "rōg" with a hard G and refers to an independent, uncontrollable, aberrant individual who acts outside the strictures of society, often in an unlawful manner. This is the word I most often see misspelled.

So please remember, if the G is in front of a U you don't need to *guess* how it's pronounced, but if you get mixed up you might end up blushing!

[probably-not-a-rutabaga]

guys i need to know,,, LISTEN IK I DO POLLS A LOT SOMETIMES BUT I'M CURIOUS

[broodybuck]

Here to Serve | Series Part 2

Series Summary: Bucky serves Sir Steven every night more intimately than most but he loves doing it.

Author's Note: I originally posted this as a oneshot in March, but got inspo to add two more chapters!

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, historical au, top Steve, bottom Bucky, master/servant, power imbalance, servant Bucky, master Steve, dubious consent

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1]

Tonight is surely a night of miracles. Bucky knew joining his master in the bath was yet another luxury he had never been afforded before. Along with the eye contact, the kiss — he could tremble still imagining the acts that took place earlier this evening.

The bath is beyond Bucky's most unbelieved expectations because Sir Steven has Bucky seated in between his legs, resting against his firm, broad, naked chest. Sir Steven's hands roam freely along Bucky's damp torso as if he's intrigued by the bare skin and must explore further.

Bucky sucks in a breath the moment his master's hands slip under the water, so close to his cock and not nearly close enough.

Sir Steve chuckles softly by his ear. Then he speaks in the most deliciously deep octave.

"You have served me well," Sir Steven expresses. "And yet, I've longed for the experience to grow more... personal."

Bucky fights to halt a shiver across his skin but he's naked in a bathtub with his master's hot breath behind his ear and the older man's hands resting on his inner thighs. Lord, he doesn't have this much strength. He's quite sure he'll grow hard again.

It doesn't help any when Sir Steven's hands begin to rub up and down the delicate skin of Bucky's inner thighs, sloshing the water as a result of the motion.

"I struggle, you see," Sir Steven goes on. "I know your place is to serve me and this... sensual exploration we have found is more than I expected to receive in service. You must understand that since I have have had a taste, I find myself craving a tremendous amount more."

Bucky gulps, he's happy he's not looking into his master's eyes because he is sure his blue irises would give away how desperately he wants to give more. How happy he'd be to give his entire being up to this man, alone.

Sir Steven's hands now dance dangerously close to Bucky's cock but they don't touch him there. They linger teasingly near and fall still. Bucky wills himself not to shift his hips even with how badly he desires to thrust them, push, and plead for a touch. He could never beg his master for such a thing. Never.

"James," Sir Steven says and a shock jolts through Bucky right down to his cock.

To hear his master say his name is a rare occurrence since it's often unnecessary. By others, Bucky is addressed by his title, valet. Sometimes, servant. One time, boy. Alas, Sir Steven rarely needs to address him because Bucky is always standing at the ready. Waiting by his clothes in the morning before work, on the bed in the evening, in the bathroom after that. There's so rarely a time when his master needs to call on him. So tonight is certainly a treat for yet another reason. Bucky is vastly being spoiled.

"Would you like to aid me in the endeavor?" Sir Steven asks.

Bucky nods before remembering the question. To make their endeavors more personal, that's right. Then he realizes a verbal response is required.

"Yes. My lord," Bucky manages, his voice sounding unusually hoarse. His skin currently feels warmer than the water.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I want you to join in my baths nightly," Sir Steven instructs. "As for our evening routine, I would much prefer to increase its frequency. Perhaps, a second time in the bath. Maybe more in the morning."

With the suggestion, his hand grazes over Bucky's cock. There's no hiding the fact that its state is hardening. Sir Steven hums when he feels it.

"Your dedication hasn't gone unnoticed, James. This is why I've grown such aberrant desires for you. I've always appreciated the fervor with which you fulfill your services and frankly, it leaves me famished for more."

Bucky's mouth falls open and he once more considers whether this could all be a dream. His most impossible fantasies coming true. A second graze of Sir Steven's hand over his cock tells Bucky this is all very real. He's very much not dreaming. He shivers this time from the immense overwhelment of it all.

"Not long ago, I found myself pondering something. About you, James," Sir Steven shares. "I wondered if another had ever touched you. If another had ever kissed you."

Bucky closes his eyes, remembering the kiss Sir Steven bestowed upon him earlier. His master's assumption is correct, that was his first kiss and now a gift he'll never stop cherishing.

"I was suddenly filled with this yearning to be the one who gives you those very pleasures," Sir Steven carries on. "So, I did. Of course, you remember the kiss from before."

Sir Steven laughs to himself as if recalling it is funny. Bucky feels his face heat at the reminder of how much he enjoyed every second. How much satisfaction he receives in all the times he shouldn't be. He should merely be a vessel for his master's pleasure. He shouldn't have any of his own. Thus far, he's had an inconceivable amount. Now, his master is unbelievably suggesting he have more. Bucky's cock fills out fully just from the thought.

It doesn't go unnoticed by Sir Steven. He loosely wraps his hand around Bucky's cock and strokes up to the head, only gently pushing the water with its incredible light motion. Bucky bites down on his lower lip, trying desperately to remain quiet for his master. That's when Sir Steven speaks again.

"See, the thought of being the first one to bring any pleasure to you in this way. Oh, it's indescribable... what it does to me."

Bucky's heart hammers in his chest. It's too much to hear this all and have his cock cupped in Sir Steven's palm at the same time. Bucky has to tense every one of his muscles to will himself not to thrust into his master's hand. He must sit in this looming arousal and teasing standstill. It's a cruel torment he's not used to.

"So, would you like me to continue, James?" Sir Steven presents.

Bucky's head spins with the unexpected inquiry. This is so far from everything ingrained in him to serve, to never ask for anything, and to never desire more.

He's weak, he's absolutely weak to this man, and how good it feels to have a hand on his cock for the first time in his life because he hears himself answer, ever so faintly, "Yes, please, my lord."

"Just as I suspected," Sir Steven says with a hint of a smile in his tone.

He fist tightens around Bucky's cock now and pulls back down to the base. Bucky can't help himself, a whine sounds from his throat.

Sir Steven pauses. Then Bucky feels a wet sensation right behind his ear. It's Sir Steven's lips pressing a kiss there just before he fists back up the shaft. He strokes Bucky tight and fast three more times in succession, earning a loud wail from Bucky.

Bucky's hands fly up to his mouth to trap the sound and force his mouth shut.

"No need to fret, James. No one can hear us. I want you to enjoy this part. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

Bucky slowly unclamps his hands and lowers them back into the water. He squeezes his hands into tight fists trying to maintain some amount of self-control.

"Tell me, James," Sir Steven whispers as he strokes Bucky once more, long and slow this time. "Tell me, I am the first one."

"You—" Bucky pants out a ragged breath when Sir Steven's fist pulls down his cock again. "You are the first, m-my lord."

Sir Steven hums, strokes him again. "What do you say?"

Bucky breathes in sharply before he finds a suitable answer, his gut coiling in forbidden arousal, "Thank you, my lord."

"You are so welcome, James," Sir Steven says as the pad of his thumb circles around the slit in the head, forcing precum to promptly drip out. Bucky moans long and loud.

"I know," Sir Steven croons. "It feels so good. You see, I've had to learn to touch myself long before I had you. I can show you, James, all the little tricks I've learned. Then you can use them on me as well."

His thumb rubs below the rim of the head in an area that's just as sensitive and Bucky fights not to arch, not to raise his hips. Oh, he so direly wants to.

"I will, my lord. I want to very much," Bucky speaks this time without being authorized. He stiffens with fear at the realization.

"Very well," Sir Steven accepts and his hand wraps back into a tight fist and begins a steady motion up and down Bucky's cock. "We will begin tonight."

His master's hand doesn't slow and a pressure is building wildly at the base of Bucky's spine. His skin must read at a boil now, his hands squeezing so hard into themselves that his nails are piercing his skin.

He wants to come so desperately but he must assume he needs permission. He needs it, needs it, yet he can not ask. He wonders whether he'll be punished if he comes a second time tonight without allowance.

Just as Bucky's beginning to see white, blurring to the point of no return, Sir Steven leans forward and speaks it. "You may come."

Bucky explodes into the water, his neck extending back and securing a place on Sir Steven's shoulder as he cries so painfully that someone might have thought he was being whipped.

The blinding pleasure recedes slowly. Bucky opens his eyes dazedly. He tries to sit up again, to stop crowding his master's body so shamefully, but Sir Steven's hands fall to his waist and hold him in place.

"You have done beautifully, James," Sir Steven commends.

A soft buzz from the praise radiates over Bucky's skin.

"Now," Sir Steven says. "My turn. Again."

[the-moon-loves-the-sea]

Ed really got hit by three betrayals he never saw coming -- three in a span of days. We know Jack's a flake, but he doesn't; he tells Stede Jack saved his life, that he's a secret sentimentalist, that he's more like Stede than he seems. And we know he slept with Jack, if Jack's telling the truth, which is closer than he ever got with anyone else. And when Jack gets himself in trouble and asks Ed to go with him, Ed feels bound to. What I'm seeing is that their connection feels deep, to Ed, compared to anything else he'd had before, at least. And then Jack turns around and laughs at him for trusting him, laughs at him for believing in the very idea of friends; says they're all screwing each other over. Ed's furious then because he realizes Stede's in danger, and that means nothing to Jack; but I think he's also furious because he trusted Jack and thought Jack felt the same, that that's why he'd come to Ed when he was in trouble, when really it was nothing to him.

And then Stede! The clincher, the heart-shatterer. The utterly unexplained one. He told Jack Stede was his friend, whatever Jack says; he lays himself bare for him. Gives up everything he's got for him, and gets -- not nothing; he gets a kiss, a half-whispered confession of happiness. But after that, nothing. He's gone. Not a word to him, not a clue as to why, since Stede admitted none of his fears or doubts aloud, didn't ask for a moment to think or a little bit of help adjusting. Ed doesn't even have a guess, just a lonely dawn and silence.

And then Izzy. Who'd already sold him out once, who he'd taken back anyway, in need of someone he knew. His employee, yes, but also his fixer, the guy he sent on the important errands, the one he let see him at his lowest and didn't question whether that would shake his loyalty. The guy who claimed he could handle any of Ed's moods and get them the results they needed anyway. That guy looks him in the eye and tells him his allegiance is based wholly on Ed's performance of power, that he never signed on to serve a fag, and that any further weakness will earn Ed what he thinks is coming to him. That he’s stopped seeing the moments of weakness as an aberration and started seeing it as Ed— that he is the weakness he should hide away.

And that's when Ed breaks. Now he believes he's alone. Now he's stopped saying he doesn't know why Stede left; he says he knows. They were just his playthings. They couldn't have been anything to him; Jack, his oldest friend, says he never was, and Izzy, his most fanatical follower, says he's there for the legend only. Why would Stede be different? Three strikes; Stede's out. There is nobody in the world that Ed can trust, not if friendship, nor love, nor loyalty will keep anyone close to him.

A few big betrayals in a row will do that to you; makes it all feel inevitable. Makes it feel sure that that's just how the world is, or all you're ever going to get, at least; that you were the fool, for hoping you were loved, not the ones who made you feel that way. That's why above all else I'm hoping Ed's going to learn in s2 that not everyone will betray him. That somehow he'll learn to lean on Jim and Frenchie, or Fang and Ivan, or Lucius-in-the-walls, or anyone, long before Stede shows up again, so that by the time he sees him he'll know that there is still a chance at trusting what he'd known of him before, and taking what he's offering him now. One way or another, I need Ed to know he's not really alone.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

,,,,how do u get that fuzzy fuzz feel on ur art pieces,, is it just by usin’ noise? (As in static, I think)

oh! i experiment a lot with colors and effects (most of which i don't even remember the name SOB) but i can give you a summarized version of my steb by step on how i art

first of all, the colors!

here's the og, and you can probably see that in most of my art i tend to use grays and soft colors a lot and that's because it's easier for me to pick a 'theme' if you will? like 1 bright color that pops and the rest is a lot less harsh and that's what helps me define the contrary color and base my editing on that!

like here is where i usually choose my colors! but you can pick something darker and more saturated too idk i don't think it'll affect the end result- at least as long as you can change contrast and lighting in your program. i know color theory but not enough to explain it hhh :'D <333

so now use the wind tool on photoshop (there's some free editing versions online that will work just the same) and if you don't have or wanna use Ps, firealpaca and medibang have similar enough options- use motion blur, then the curves tool to make it look liiike

this! now blur the piece from a 5 to 10 range depending on how big your piece is, then you'll have that soft fuzzy outline! put some random static on top (very low opacity) then sharpen the whole thing if your art is very small like mine here so you can see details xD

use the lighten mode on your next layer and add a blue tint to the character (and leave the pop color untouched: here the yellow bg)

if you want a vhs look! and add more line-like static (just google static images and mess with colors/edit them yourself if you can't find any good options on your art program) and change up the hues and tints/contrast if you really wanna lean into the vhs asthetic like:

these! and add a 3D effect (or chromatic aberration? i think that's what the translation is cause my settings are in french xD do look it up if you can't find it on ibispaint, clip studio or whatever program you're using!)

i really suck at explaining so i don't consider this a tutorial, but mostly me rambling about effects and editing hhh but honestly? best advice i can give you is try every single effect you can and see how it looks with hues and color changers added on top of it!

stumble upon new effects and learn how to replicate them without needing to rely on special layers or tools if you're looking to improve your coloring!! >:Dc i only use these because my version of sai doesn't have a blur tool cause i pick the colors myself in most cases now :') but as i said i'm bad at explaining so hope it kinda sorta helped? a little? hhh<3333

[12pt-times-new-roman]

y'all I'm not fucking ready for this.

How many weeks in a row is this with no DDB sponsor?

Matt is dressed in Ruidus colors. fear

personally? I think it would be very funny if somebody replaced Liam's chair with one that's a foot shorter than everyone else's.

I'm fully expecting Ira to be a Garmellie/Artagan situation. This motherfucker is an archfey slumming it on Exandria and ancient god-killing wizard dilfs are his dive bar of choice.

Ira was around for at least one previous apogee solstice, but he was in the Feywild when it happened so he didn't get to see the true extent of is power.

"What do you think about the gods?" "I don't think about them." good answer, good answer

Aberrations and other "mythological creatures" born on solstices (even normal ones) are particularly powerful.

The circlet prevents Imogen from hearing the thoughts of people around her. It just eliminates that entirely. And with it goes most of the reasons she'd have to side with Ludinus and Otohan. Truly the peak of non-wizard mortal hubris, to consider killing the gods before looking for an item or a spell to solve your problem first

Sending to Keyleth from Imogen: "We're a couple hours out, to the southwest. Are we meeting up? Just going for it? Help?" "I'm gathering those of able-body who recovered from our last endeavor. I'll look for a tree. Let me know when you need the cavalry; our arrival isn't quiet."

"I go over and give Fearne a big hug." "Aww—" "I reach into her pocket." never change, Ashton

A ways out from the crater, the Bells Hells come upon a structure in the storm — the wood and stone wreckage of a skyship that carried a cathedral on it. It's mangled and burned; the brumestone has been scavenged. It looks recent, and the outer hull is covered in mounts for heavy armor, harpoons, and cannons, but it was brought down by battle on the deck, not by massive damage to the outer hull. The iconography indicates that it was from Vasselheim, possibly a Judicator ship.

jesus fucking christ. Matt could not say "DO NOT GO THROUGH WITH CRASHING THE SHIP" any more clearly.

if that dispel pulse is shutting down the automatons briefly, then maybe it's not actually intentional. maybe it's a by-product, an unintended consequence.

it never ceases to amaze me that without fail and across all of his characters, Travis manages to be both the voice of "fuck it we ball" and the person who slows down combat to calm players.

like, does CritRoleStats keep track of how many combat encounters each PC has started? bc Chetney has got to be up there with Imogen this campaign

this battle music has the same opening notes as the 2001 theme and now I can't hear anything else

The spellcaster has a +6 spell attack, but also cast hold person at 5th level and did 15 damage on a fire bolt, so they're most likely 9th level with a +2 spellcasting ability modifier.

Ashton rage build update: 2 on the d4 is the space build (portals!). they took the Crusher feat for their 8th level ASI. also, when the space build is active, they can use portals (either as a bonus action or as a result of hitting a creature or as a result of bringing a creature to 0 hp) to teleport to any space they can see within 30 or 60 feet of them.

As a reminder, shock flare is a reskin of arms of hadar, but it pushes creatures away instead of preventing them from taking reactions and deals lightning damage instead of necrotic.

Tal saying "five foot step" gave me hella flashbacks to Pathfinder 1e

"Well, I don't get to choose, do I? Let's just go with it." god fucking damnit. Ashton's rage abilities and how fucking random they are is so poetically and narratively intwined with the themes of this campaign, it's wild

it will never not amuse me that Matt, without fail, misunderstands the way the command spell works. it's super minor and not a big deal but as someone with a DM who's pretty on-top of it, it's very funny

Imogen gets pulled into a tent by a very quick and quiet force.

"Who are you, and why are you fighting the Vanguard?" "I've got friends coming in. Friends or enemies?" "I asked you first." "The question isn't why! It's 'are you fighting too'?" "Who are you with?" "

oh my god of fucking COURSE there are already infiltrators in here. of course there are. why wouldn't there be? Ryn didn't come here alone.

BEAUREGARD???

BEAUREGARD!!!!

y'all you have no fucking idea how excited I am——

"He can go say hi to the rest of his friends we've put there [in jail]." how fucking many of the Cerberus Assembly are in jail now? we know Trent is in there but who else?

CALEB!!!! blorbo!!!

"So. What's the play here, Beauregard?"

They're both friends to the Verity, and they've worked with Ryn before. They came here with her, trying to do a recon mission before she was taken.

The Children of Malice are a front for the Ruby Vanguard.

Caleb and Beau saw the other skyship go down. It was from Vasselheim. The Vanguard struck the skyship from the sky at Ludinus' request, though Caleb hasn't seen any sign of Ludinus being in the crater for many days. But the perpetual dispel pulse was intentionally installed.

Caleb, Beau, and Ryn were all on the Shadowfell team — they were able to damage the key, but unable to completely destroy it.

Caleb refers to Ludinus as the most powerful of the assembly, "the one who could topple it all" if he goes down. He and Beau came here alone;

The entire site is illusion-proofed, there's a dispel wave every minute. There are also mage-hunter golems here, which we've only ever heard of existing inside the Heirloom Sphere. I am forcibly reminded of the fact that Ludinus Da'leth is aware of the Happy Fun Ball.

"The absolute, absurd amount of muscles she has—" "Like Marisha?" *raised eyebrow* Matthew. (fuckin' simp (affectionate))

Ludinus has been reverse-engineering Aeorian technology and using distilled dunamis energy to power it, with multiple mesh-like power sources. He's "obsessed" with divinity and appears to be "counting on opposition, which makes [Beau] uneasy."

"What's dunabis?" "...there isn't time to lecture. It's a very obtuse form of magic that exists between the fabric of all other forms of power. It's one of the oldest and most fundamental forces within Exandria and beyond. It can alter time, space, probability, entropy — it is dangerous in the wrong hands, and unfortunately, a very strong source of it has been in the hands of Ludinus and the Assembly for some time." The 'very strong source' is presumably the beacon, which Ludinus has had since 835 PD.

The Cobalt Soul has been trying to nail down Ludinus for a long time, but "he's always one step ahead."

Caleb specifically refers to dunamis as chaotic, referencing Ashton.

Ludinus has apparently been doing this outside of the Assembly. Caleb's contact in the Assembly (Astrid, presumably) notes that even the rest of the Assembly is afraid to get involved in Ludinus' plans.

Halas, Trent, and "Bendathar" are in Beau's list of archmages they've fucked up.

Hey! Beau knows the Ashari! that's cool. She also knows Ira and his history of designing the keys.

There are dozens of mirrors and hook-like spires facing toward the key itself. Everything is reinforced with a massive amount of residuum — the device, the walls of the excavation site, and everything beyond. "An all-out assault would be far too dangerous." Caleb gives a sending stone to Chetney, who gives it to Laudna, under the assumption that the groups are going to split up to cover more ground.

given the fact that the solstice didn't actually happen this episode and that the Mighty Nein and the Crown Keepers are now attached to this, I feel like my "PFS2 special scenario" theory has some more merit

Beau disappears, Caleb goes invisible (they both start to circle around), and the Bells Hells start to descend the crater.

also, last minute update: Fearne would have flirted incessantly with both Beau and Caleb.

threads that have connected in this episode:

Missing residuum shipments: the malleus key and its surroundings are reinforced with residuum. that's a massive amount; it's possible that Trent's supply of residuum, the stuff the Nameless Ones stole, and the stuff the Paragon's Call were trafficking were probably all going here.

The Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly: It takes a long, long time to dismantle political systems. The Cobalt Soul has apparently imprisoned more Assembly members than just Trent.

Out-of-the-blue rolls: Those random rolls Matt had Marisha and Liam make were indeed rolls for the Shadowfell expedition that Beau, Caleb, and Ryn were involved with. They rolled shitty, so the Shadowfell key wasn't entirely destroyed, but was damaged.

[i3utterflyeffect]

The Pearl Problem

ITERATION 2: THE REBEL

All That Beckons tries again with some new friends, and finds that not everyone is willing to go along with what he wants. And that isn't just these animals, either. He also discovers that creatures without glass bones are much, MUCH more dangerous. - chosen time. :] [AO3 Link]

"Log four! I've gotten some help from other iterators who go by Aberrant Creation and Programmed Interference. Me and Programmed Interference go a while back, but we haven't talked in a while. Glad that they're helping me with this. We've gotten a chance to catch up a little, but it's a bit awkward since it's been... Uh... I can't remember the exact number of cycles, but it's been a long time since we've talked."

"I'm making some progress now. I've gotten a plan together for a creature that will hopefully NOT self-destruct, and one that's going to be able to efficiently create the bone I need for a pearl. They should be pretty sturdy, too, which means they can survive the extraction and regrow the bone! Man, this is cool."

"Hopefully this'll actually work. I'm trying it right now; Hopefully in about 50 cycles or so it'll be ready. Feels like a long time, but I can wait. This has to work, right?"

---

"Log five. The creature is complete."

"I think I followed everything right. I, um... I tried to play it safe since I don't want to give myself rot by screwing this up worse than before. I'm feeling pretty good about the result, though. It's been wandering around for a few minutes-- doesn't look like it's limping or anything, and I'm pretty sure that's a good sign. Let me just... poke it with an inspector and make sure it doesn't die as soon as I touch it."

"Just gonna..."

"Oh. That's-- what is it doing? What is that?"

"Is something on fi-- THAT'S THE CREATURE THE CREATURE IS ON FIRE WHY IS I-"

---

"Log five, continued!"

"I am very fortunate that genetic engineering uses a lot of water... because that thing tried to set me on fire."

"I genuinely don't know where it got the ability to do that-- I mean, I put in some lizard genes just to make the bones more sturdy. That shouldn't have given it the ability to set fires! Much less be immune to it! And-- honestly, I'm kind of regretting not keeping the first one in general! That thing was a thousand times less likely to kill me than whatever this is!"

"As for what happened... I contained it. For now. But I need to figure out how to neutralize that thing. I think I have an idea, but I need to contact the others first."

"Hopefully I can get it done before it wakes back up."

---

"Log six."

"I've got it under control, I think. It's not exploding now, at least. I made something that I can trigger on command to release a biological coolant in their blood, because! It looks like lowering its body temperature prevents it from sparking any fires."

"...however... Aberrant Creation has stopped talking with us, because apparently keeping a creature from killing me is 'immoral'. It's not like I'm killing it, though."

"Actually, I don't think I could even if I was brave enough to. It killed, like, two of my inspectors. I didn't even know a creature could do that."

"It's kind of sluggish right now, but I'm hesitant to extract the bone pearl while my equipment is still damaged. And also while I'm down two inspectors. And while there's... structural damage... and..."

"I need to go repair things. I need to fix... all of this. Saints below. I'll update on the situation when I'm in better shape."

---

"Log seven."

"It's been a few cycles since I created... The creature. The slugcat. Should I have a name for that thing? I'll... I'll think about it."

"But it's going well. Seems like the coolant method's working to keep it controlled. I'm still wary to let it around any important components, but at least I don't feel like it's going to immediately try to blow a hole in my can."

"I also managed to extract the pearl, and even if it's not the best material, it's better than nothing. It's kind of porous but it'll work for art, I think. It's also shockingly colorful for bone; it's colored the same way any pearl would be. That was an accident, but they're nice to look at. I kind of wonder if their skeletons are colorful, too."

"Anyway... I've been trying to encourage it to cooperate with me, but I don't see anything behind those eyes. Completely vacant except for apparently the thought of killing me."

"...I'm sure it'll come around eventually."

"Log eight. Discordant Joy said I should name them, and we came up with a great name... The Chosen One!"

"Heheh... Pretty sure the Ancients would NOT be happy with that name, but screw them; I like it. They've been pretty cooperative lately, by the way. I've gotten them to do a bit of pest control after a couple of white lizards crawled inside. They got chomped once or twice, but I think they enjoyed killing those things. Maybe I just need to get The Chosen One things to kill that aren't me?"

---

"Log nine..."

"...Programmed Interference has gone silent. They won't respond to any messages."

"I'm starting to get a bit worried. They've been having issues for a while, but suddenly they just seemed to disappear."

"...These slugcats are meant to be messengers, right?"

"...I wonder..."

There's a long pause in the audio. All That Beckons is clearly deep in thought.

"...This might be a bad idea. I shouldn't be doing this."

"I think... I'm going to see about making one for its intended purpose. And this time, I'm not going to screw it up."

[anjels001]

Secrets of Devildom: Demons of Wrath (Part 1)

I'm back my people with a special gift for you, I present another theory from my expert on the secrets of Delvidom, so stay tuned for possibly sending a double post on the same topic. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Those who have read the theory of the 7 Og and the cycle of life (thank you @sparkbeast20 for the cooperation) know that there are many gaps in the annon, and many of the events that occurred in the annon are not explained, and/or left implicit without any context.

For those following these moments of theory, you may notice that I have been talking a lot about the demonic classes, their "history," and culture before, during, and after the fall of the brothers, focusing most of these moments on philosophical/mythological debates, pointing out plot points that few would see and understand.

Well, we already talked about 4 of the seven classes of sins, namely Greed, Lust, Sloth and Gluttony 

Today we'll talk about the second most famous emotion in Hollywood, the deadliest animal instinct...

….(insert supernatural intro)…

...we'll talk about Wrath.

But before we start this theory moment, I ask you, dear reader, to keep an open mind for this moment, and if you want to point out any flaws, or if I'm forgetting something, remember that this is just a theoretical post. And I won't be upset if you want to add something to this conversation, I just ask you to reblog and tag me so we can exchange theories on the subject.

Like all theories about demonic classes, I'll start with the following question: what do we know about wrath?

According to psychology, wrath is an extremely complex and potentially harmful emotion that we all carry within us from birth. It is born alongside fear and pain, regardless of each individual's circumstances. Like all emotions, wrath has different levels, from mild annoyance to blind passion that can lead to destructive acts.

However, learning to deal with it is essential, as unexpressed or repressed wrath can cause significant physical and mental damage.

In spirituality, the sin of wrath constitutes an aberration of the instinctive feeling when we are attacked. In essence, this capital sin is a disorder that establishes the exaggeration of what is proper to the human being, that is, self-defense, and PROTECTION.

Considered a passion, wrath is a violent need for reaction provoked by physical or moral suffering or contrariety. In these circumstances, the person feels compelled to unleash their anger in physical manifestations to attack the other person or silently.

As already mentioned in a certain motto of a well-known alternative universe's evil order, "peace is a lie, there is only passion."

Wrath is the feeling of an intense desire to repel or punish those who threaten us, but it can be fair when moderate, seeking to punish only when necessary. However, if there is no moderation, it can lead to excesses, especially when a harsher warning is needed.

Violent desire accompanied by hatred leads to the pursuit of revenge, manifested by signs such as impatience, bad mood, and violent words. Lack of control can lead to hatred, resentment, and violation of charity and justice, resulting in betrayals, murders, and wars, affecting interpersonal relationships.

Knowing all this, we can presume that, just like each avatar of the 7 sins, their "realms," "Feuds," or circles, as Dante described them, reflect the nature of their lord. In this case, we can presume that, like Satan, the 5th circle reveals itself in two contrasting faces, revealing a world of duality and mystery.

The visible part of this presents it self as a tourist attraction, with breathtaking landscapes and controlled wrath demons. The inhabitants of this part are intellectually superior beings, with knowledge of various subjects and understandings of vast knowledge. We can then think that in this breathtaking landscape, there are numerous tourist spots focused on intellectual developments, such as museums and libraries.

We can also imagine that these streets boast majestic architecture and lush gardens. However, these same inhabitants conceal a wrath that burns in their hearts. This is the facade that visitors contemplate, a superficial paradise where appearances hide the true nature of this circle. We can also think that there is a certain prejudice among the inhabitants of this small "paradise," where any inhabitant who blatantly displays any kind of "passion" is seen as a being of low status, an animal without due control of their being. This place would also be protected by vast magical walls that separate the inhabitants of this superior metropolis from the wilderness.

Furthermore, we can infer that over the centuries, the Colosseum has evolved, maintaining its roots as a place of punishment and sadistic entertainment. Even today, in the dark depths of the 5th circle, these traditions persist, fueled by the thirst for power and cruelty of its demonic inhabitants, traditions upheld by the traditionalist noble families that little understand or comprehend the changes that Diavolo imposed in Devildom.

I can imagine that this place could be one of the few remaining sites of the old lord of wrath that has remained to appease the noblest houses. A gem to feed the desire of these demons without them interfering with the plans of the future demon king. The spectacle of pain and death continues to attract bloodthirsty crowds, while prisoners fight not only for survival but also for the chance of redemption in a world plunged into darkness.

But what do you think of this theory? Do you believe that the 5th circle would have this kind of duality? Would Satan really leave this part of the old lord of wrath intact or would he simply switch the F*** button and just do it his way?

For those who want to know more about this specific series, I will mark all the theories in this series with this tag #Secrets of Devildom, so you can find them later on my page

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #28

I found myself feeling just a little bit world-weary today as a result of various things piling up. I'll not get into the specifics; it's not important. I thought I'd have more energy to do things, but the last straw happened on my way home from being out and about; it's been snowing here all day, and even though I was driving slowly, I still ended up slipping on the ice and the snow, and almost crashed into oncoming traffic as a result. I made it home all right; nothing bad happened. But I was still spooked, so I tried to use today to rest, with varying success.

Do you ever feel that way sometimes? Spooked by random happenings outside of your control? Tired of dealing with the broader social fabric of things that causes people to get hurt arbitrarily even though you know that it wouldn't have to be this way if everyone just agreed to not be nasty to one another? What do you do when that happens? Do you rest? What does rest look like for you? I wonder…

Today I tried to refill my depleted energy reserves a little by doing nice things for myself and the people around me. I brought home pizza and milkshakes for myself and the folks in my house. They seemed happy, and I felt good in response to that for a moment - as though my existence has some kind of use somehow, despite everything.

…I know that no human being should have to be useful in some way to be considered worthwhile. But I have what feels like a lifetime of conditioning in which I've been taught that my existence is only tolerable if I'm making myself useful to someone else. So, although it's easy for me to see that other people have inherent worth no matter what (you, too; you don't have to be "useful" to anyone first), it's often hard for me to look at myself with those same humane eyes. I wonder if you might know a little about what this is like. Something tells me you might.

But I can't stay like this forever and still expect myself to be any good for the people around me; the people who love me want me to act like a human being, not like furniture (silent and out of the way until it's needed). Also, it makes them sad when I'm hard on myself, and them being sad just because I am surrendering to old survival-oriented mental-emotional scripts is unacceptable to me. So I work on it. I learn to be a little kinder to myself day by day, and I get a little better the more I practice. I do this work because I've since learned that the real meaning of strength isn't within making yourself into someone who is unfeeling and hard-hearted. No, real strength lies in challenging all the self-destructive bullshit you were fed your whole life, replacing harsh beliefs with softer, less judgmental ones, and having courage enough to make kinder choices towards yourself and towards other people, even when you know you might get hurt as a result of it all.

So I rested. For me, that looks like eating tasty food, staying hydrated with some warm beverage (tea is good stuff), and doing things that replenish me. Today I played Pokémon. I stuck up for someone on the internet who looked like they could use a kind word. I talked to a few friends. I tried focusing on the small ways that I can do good things in my immediate vicinity, even though my brain is doing everything in its power to try to make me think that my existence is an aberration or a mistake. I don't have to surrender to thoughts like that. And I can feel my emotions fully without them controlling me, and when it becomes too much, I can ask for help, like all humans should. I can do difficult things like that. You can do difficult things like that, too.

And, in terms of metaphor, if emotions are fish, then I am the pond, and I can accept that sometimes the fish are gonna flop around and dart to and fro, as fish do. A proper pond gives the fish plenty of room to be themselves, flowing artfully around each individual one instead of trying to control or suppress them. Every human can be a pond whether they realize it or not. As such, I hope you are taking care to get to know each of your fish so you can treat them properly. It will allow you to make good decisions, even when they're thrashing and wriggling around.

I know you can't answer me, but I'm asking you anyway because you're worth someone caring enough to ask, and your mind is worth being known and considered by other people: what does rest look like for you? It's essential to all living creatures (you're a living creature and a HUMAN, no matter the circumstances of your birth and no matter what any half-crocked butt-nugget tries to tell you). It's one of the things that makes living worthwhile. And it's one of the things that allows us to be our best selves for the people around us. I'm still practicing letting myself do it reliably; I'll get there. And if you're not good at resting, then you'll get there, too, if you practice; you're a lot smarter than me, after all, and so you'll probably learn it a lot more quickly than I can.

On days like today, when my brain is being particularly nasty, sometimes I'll try to drown out its nonsense with a song. Today, this one seems most appropriate:

The shape of the melody and the color of the words match the inside of my mind quite nicely right now. Perhaps you'll find it relatable.

If it was up to you and you knew that you might lose… would you still be brave and choose to continue? Will you refuse to give up on all the beautiful and loving things that this world can still offer, despite all the other unpleasant stuff that sometimes happens? Will you keep moving forward, no matter how many weary footprints you've left behind in the sand?

You can do it. You can make good, kind, and loving choices. I believe in you, and I'll always be over here, cheering you on in whatever ways I can. So please stay safe. Please come back to us in one piece. Please put yourself in a position in which you can build a peaceful life for yourself and all the people of your world. Genesis, Angeal, and Zack are waiting with open arms for you to return to them, I'm sure. And lots of people in my world are waiting for you to return, too, if you're ready. Let us help you, won't you? We can still fix this.

I think I'll end this one here-ish; I'm pretty tired, and I feel like if I keep going, I'm just gonna ramble. So please... just... remember that you're loved and necessary, okay? Don't ever lose sight of that fact.

Until next time.

Your friend, Lumine

[kyouminaine]

Obediently Sephiroth followed Cloud's orders, although he still had trouble banishing the feeling that he was making the man do too much for him. However, he wasn't about to argue things as he knew from personal experience that trying to do so often ended up ugly and with him suffering the consequences long after the fact. Not that he honestly expected Cloud to do such a thing, but old learned behavior was very difficult to break for anyone, much less a kid.

The boy was pleasantly surprised when Cloud humored his question and even decided to answer him. Such a minor interaction was enough to get Sephiroth excited and eager to continue despite the biting sting of the needle biting into his flesh, although he barely seemed to react to the pain.

“I wonder what will happen whenever the project does end.” Specifically, the boy wondered about what would become of him as his whole life revolved around the project and he could hardly imagine his life without it. “But you think it'll really get a new name? Just like me?”

Sephiroth had only relatively recently been given a proper human name and that was mainly for the point of making him easier to identify by the rest of Shinra personnel. Professor Hojo had scoffed at the idea of doing so, but he had relented and done so even though he said the whole exercise was unnecessary and how they shouldn't be forced to 'dumb down' things for lesser minds. But regardless of what Hojo thought the boy had been excited by the prospect as it meant he was one step closer to being like a normal person.

Unaware of Cloud's bewilderment the boy responded to the blond's next comment, clearly not in the least bit uncomfortable with his state of undress. “I don't have access to materia. The department doesn't allow me to have it unless I'm deployed on a mission. Do you have some?”

@aonemanarmy

Cloud blinked at the teen when he admitted to not having access. For a moment, he thought the answer was absurd, and that Sephiroth should have easy access to materia, but then his gaze shifted to the wounds on the boy's body and immediately remembered. Sephiroth was yet to be seen as a powerful figure with plenty of privileges. He was just a teen. Leashed and treated like an animal.

How could he possibly have free access to materia and other resources when most of the personnel here didn't see him as human? He was an aberration that they didn't know how to handle, so obviously that meant he couldn't have any human rights.

Inwardly clicking his tongue in disgust, Cloud instead changed his thoughts to answering the question Sephiroth posed. "Yes. I don't have much."

It was something he never planned on keeping, but somehow it stayed with him. Maybe it was just for security, or maybe he was just a hypocrite, but he kept a curative materia on him.

Pulling back, he settled his weight on his heels. He studied the teen for a moment. He knew the consequences of using materia and what would result of it if overused, but the boy in front of him deserved better than a bit of antiseptic and stitches. In fact, Cloud should've thought to do this first.

"I'll get it." He pushed up to his feet and was about to turn when he paused ever so briefly in order to hand the boy a small towel. "Put it on your lap."

After that, he went to retrieve the materia he had hidden - he didn't need to attract more attention than he already did just by walking around with an unissued weapon - so that officials wouldn't catch it on him. With it in hand, he returned to Sephiroth.

"I'll do in phases." First, just enough to stop him from reopening the wound, then pull out the stitches, then finish healing him. That was probably the best way to do it.

Cloud sat down in front of Sephiroth again. "I should've done this to begin with," he muttered.

[chooseruin]

Wolf 359: D&D Edition

Almost a decade behind the rest of the internet, I have discovered Wolf 359. I have also been watching a shit-ton of D&D build videos. The end result was probably inevitable. (This is definitely more of an overall Vibe Translation; to actually replicate anyone's canon bullshit I'm pretty sure you'd want something like SW5E or Starfinder. Except Eiffel. Eiffel is the only full-class character on this list and that class just works regardless. Life is wild.)

Eiffel: straight spirits bard. Seriously. As written this one is all about the gothic vibes, but if you wanted to be an inexplicably lovable nerd who talks to aliens through the radio and buffs the party somewhat unpredictably by means of bewildering pop culture references, that is legit a cosmetic reflavoring only. When he casts Calm Emotions it defuses the situation by making everyone really annoyed with him instead.

Hera: warforged aberrant mind sorcerer/tempest cleric. She of all people would really benefit from using a different system, but if you were in a hurry, I'm pretty sure you could fake it by 1. ruling that the station counted as both heavy armor for her core processors and an enormous spellcasting focus; 2. adapting the panic attack mechanic from Fantasy High.

Minkowski: lightfoot halfling champion fighter/order cleric. This is not solely a short joke; I also think Minkowski deserves the ability to reroll ones. (In a setting with more melee combat, I'd probably go cavalier over champion, that being kind of the ultimate mom-arm fighter subclass, but they don't necessarily get to do a lot with ranged attacks. I passed on devotion pally for much the same reason.)

Hilbert: alchemist artificer/divination wizard. The wizard levels are there in large part because Portent is the save-killer and Hera is actually going to end up with a halfway decent Wisdom modifier and advantage on charm saves. Also because extra spell slots.

Lovelace: hexblood gloomstalker ranger/celestial warlock. After some deliberation I went hexblood because the surveillance potential of Eerie Token is such a nice fit for her early-arc paranoia. Also, you don't have to tell me how MAD this build is; I know. On the other hand, she is probably a few levels ahead of some other characters, and does your martial attack stat need to be perfect when you can get Archery and Improved Pact Weapon?

Kepler: mastermind rogue/battlemaster fighter. The quintessential controlling SOB power build, not much to add. He and Lovelace both have the Inspiring Leader feat, which is absolutely hilarious to everyone involved except for them.

Jacobi: artillerist artificer/war magic wizard. Yes, I did just make Jacobi an INT-based 0.75 caster. What about it?

Maxwell: ... genuinely I am pretty sure the only way to get any of the right flavor for this is with the completely dead archivist artificer UA. (They did recycle some bits and pieces of that one for the scribes wizard, but that ended up being more or less of a specialized blaster, which isn't quite quite.) Plus a divination wizard dip, same reason as Hilbert.

[paragonrobits]

WAIT WAIT, AN IDEA

i'm thinking that for my OCverse, one of the rival teams to my OC squad are a group of characters specifically meant to examine the idea of relatability in various respects?

say for example, one of them is a mimic, both in a DND sense and in a power sense, using abilities to transform both body and mind to appeal to the sensibilities of others and gain power by drawing upon the collective mind power of all those people, but as a result has almost no sense of their own personality or desires, just as a living extension of others. they don't know what they want anymore. When you scrape away everything you could be to survive, what even ARE you?

in contrast, there's my OC Squad; a group of the absolute weirdest freakazoids, monsters, mad scientists, self-experimenting aberrations and challenge seeking battle addicts. every last one of them is fucking weird. Half of them started out as normal animals inexplicably empowered by magic, most of them can shapeshift in some way. Some of them are magically empowered and hindered by a magical compulsion of Bad Brain Thoughts that manifests as corrosive sickness and revolting physical mutations, some of them transform by eating things (including ideas, so they eat your sickness so you get better and now they have a tummy ache). All of them have a weird cat.

the point is that they're a weird bunch; not deliberately made to be relatable, but deliberately made BY me to be interesting. and a lot of what makes a character relatable is not what traits they have, but what they DON'T have. as long as a character doesn't have traits directly antithetical to a viewer, I've seen viewers call that character relatable even if they have nothing in common.

so for this i would probably need at least five characters, and based on either literal character archetypes that fit the relatable concept (one, for example, could be a regular human from an otherwise mundane world thrust into the magical realms of the setting, similar to the ordinary student in magic land archetype, and usually written as a blank slate to appeal to the reader base)

in general i think it would be good to make a balance between characters base on very common self-insert archetypes (though I would need help identifying what those archetypes ARE; at best i can only really think of the Mary Sue as defined in real old school fan fic and not the modern version of the term, or the Isekai Bland Protagonist archetype)

they might also reflect on influencers/youtubers in some way, though I'm hesitant to make that step since it would border on making them a straw man to beat up because I personally don't like influencers; if i did that, they would likely wind up being experts in PR or deriving combat power from attention in some way. In contrast, my OC squad are thoroughly uninterested in PR management. they say "we are what we are and that's our business". the mad scientist spider lady is not saying that because she wandered off to replace her intestines with a lite-brite machine for funsies.

In general i think this Relatable Band would function as a big question about the idea of fitting in, and what it means for my characters who are by design all outcasts, monsters or one-of-a-kind freaks who cannot belong anywhere; is finding a place in the world worth it when you can only get it by scraping off everything that makes you YOU?

[svyat0s]

The Second Light Night of Samhain. We gave geises, Marik refused. He thought a vow was what I would do, but it turns out I wouldn't do it. And he won't notdo anything.) That's it, said Marik, I wanted to give a geis - to finish the case (we don't know which one), and here, destiny is against. Sonya gave four geises.

I gave one too. Not postpone things I want to do until after the things that need to be done. I have this aberration clinging to me here. It's completely unnecessary. I'll try to turn it off through the geis. Well, you probably fall for that aberration, too. Like, you want to draw a picture. You really want to draw it. And you think, well, I'll just put the dirty laundry in the hamper. And answer the mail. And check my messages. Oh, you should have called. Okay, now I'm gonna do all this stuff and sit down to draw. And you do it all. And there's no more energy left to draw and the mood's gone. Or there, oh, an idea, I'll write it down quickly, but I'll just drink tea. And I'll lay out the pictures quickly. And I'll write a schedule, I've been meaning to for a long time. And a post about cats. That is, as a result, you're always doing things you don't want to do, and you're tired. And you don't know why you were doing all that. And I asked for it, for completed geis something important.

Tomorrow is the last night of Samhain. We'll burn all the decorations and wreaths, and circle around the fire, creating the Wheel of Fate. I forgot to tell Sonya, she told her subscribers how we're celebrating. Well, she'll tell them tomorrow. All the sacrificial treats will be thrown into the fire, cook mulled wine and bake waffles (we bought maple syrup today) - this is for us, but the spirits, I'm sure, will also get some wine, and maybe a waffle (we are cripple-handed enough).

The salamanders, firecats, and other spirits were awesome today. And yes, a raven. And the shadow of him. And a heart on fire.

photos here: https://albireo-mkg.com/2023/11/03/the-second-light-night-of-samhain

[leam1983]

Peepers

Second visit at the ophtalmologist, yesterday night. Things were kind of weird.

First, he doesn't so much as stand up to greet me and just stares at my readout. He looks to be in his fifties, on the dumpy side, the sort of long-standing Vietnamese expat that precedes the country's Anglicization and that speaks French with a flawless Québécois accent.

"Who are you, what are you doing here?" he mutters. I'm, understandably, a little thrown off, and default to mild sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

"Oh, I'm here for the free pizza," I reply. "That's my name on file, right over there; I'm guessing you know exactly why I'm here."

He gives me the same kind of acerbic smile I'm known for. We'll either get along swimmingly or try and snipe at one another for the whole consultation, looks like...

"You've got lip," he says, "that's a nice change of pace. So, you're Mister Twisty Ocular Vascularization, right? Let's get a look at that..."

Enter the contrast liquid, the usual tests, and he seems annoyed with the fact that I can't follow his instructions quite as fast as he'd like. I'm biting back the urge to tell him to slow the Hell down, and then he rolls away from his torture device.

"Any neurological issues I should be aware of?"

I bite back the urge to lob another chunk of bile. "Isn't my Cerebral Palsy on file?"

He double-checks. "Oh."

I imagine my hands around his windpipe. He clears his throat. "Any other priors in the family?"

I shrug. "One glaucoma, one macular degeneration. First one's my maternal aunt, the other one's my paternal grandfather."

He looks up and squints. "You look young. What are you, 25?"

Don't I wish it. "Nope, 39. Look past my eyebrows and you've got a dead giveaway."

He laughs, with that same unconvinced chuckle I've heard out of people with a slew of diplomas and zero people skills. "Welp, uh, your right eye reacts like someone with glaucoma would, but your pressure readings are nominal. Have you ever had a brain scan done?"

I'm holding back the urge to sigh. He'll only find an old scar on my brain, and ample evidence that my noggin did its best to work like an otherwise-pristine LCD panel does around a dead pixel. Deviation after deviation, tiny chunks of the surrounding sulci and gyri taking over for my impaired ability to make concrete inferences, spot symbolic links between concepts. The end result is I'd make a piss-poor architect, but a halfway-decent architectural designer. Maths hate me and I responded by taking to human speech and culture like a sponge does to water. I picked up C++ like I picked up Spanish, and parse code like I parse someone's thesis before peer review. I don't see structures and functions, I see grammar and aberrations thereof.

He'll probably find some weirdness with my visual cortex, seeing as I've got strabismus, but that's almost forty years in the making. If he goes on the warpath and decides I need prisms, surgery or to deliberately cross my eyes X times per day, I'll just have to tell him I went through it all once before.

No, my brain never learned to process binocular vision. Yes, I compensate for it fairly well. Do you want me to grab this pencil off the table?

The folks see this as me "figuring myself out", and Walter sees it as a waste of time. I'm inclined to agree, but if it assuages my optometrist's fears and gets her to stop acting like I might wake up blind one day, it'll have served its purpose.

My only true disability consists in the remnants of my discalculia - and even that only rears its head if I'm not allowed to whip out my phone's Calculator app. Mentioning it Error 404's the ophtalmologist, and he's seemingly dead-set on figuring out why I'm not nominal.

I laughed. "I'm a disabled bi geek in a very active gay relationship who maintains a close friendship with a girl, benefits included. How is that in any way nominal? You're poking at something that's had decades to settle in; I'm giving in out of curiosity, but I'm not expecting miracles."

He purses his lips together. "You have tried these alternatives before?"

I repeat myself, increasingly getting the sense that the dude is even more pig-headed than I can be. Only then does it register. "Oh, well, I'd still like to get it looked at. It might point us back to high intraocular pressure or it might not."

Fine, whatever. Walter side-eyes me as he focuses on the road and drives us back. "What an ass," he says. "Couldn't he see just how functional you are?"

I shrug. "It's - specialized practitioners, Walt. I've seen a bunch. You're barely a person to them, you're just interlocking systems. If they can't fix you, they at least want to figure you out. GPs deal in empathy and patient after-care, specs couldn't care less if I jumped off a bridge after a diagnosis. I mean, you said it yourself: you could snuggle with your GP and thought your oto-rhino-laryngologist treated Sleep Apnea like it's the Bubonic Plague."

I smirk. "In her defense, you did tell her you enjoyed knowing you snored, and thought being nap-prone was kind of cool. I don't mind, but if I'd been a health-related specialist of any nature, those would've been red flags."

Walt rolls his eyes. "As long as it's not Pickwick Syndrome, I don't want a tube over my mouth while I sleep."

"Well, you do get Pickwickian on Friday nights, past seven," I reply, teasing him. You're always stoked about catching Quebec's version of Next One, and I always have to wake you up before the last round comes up."

He squeezes my knee. "I blame you kids. You and Sarah are the human equivalent of an old blanket."

Silence stretches as fondness fills it.

"Do whatever you like, Grem," he says, "I just don't want to lose you."