#incoming analysis

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #52 — The DJD Once Again Prove to Be an HR Nightmare

Ratchet and Drift, looking fresh as hell in their matching paint jobs, stand on the cliff they made their cool entrance on last issue, as they snipe at each other over whether or not Drift personally knows the DJD. Considering how Tarn and Friends had a space-cocaine induced freakout over seeing Drift on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, they may want to talk a little quieter, especially with the face Helex is making.

You better watch out, Ratchet— this man's going to do Sakamoto-got-all-the-way-to-pencils shit to you!

The Pet takes the opportunity presented by our recently returned newlyweds being too busy flirting to pay attention to the fight at hand, leaping to chew on Ratchet's head. Luckily, Ten is an ally, even when he’s been beat to shit, and punches the shitty little Pomeranian into the air. Kaon, card-carrying freak and dog dad, takes this abject display of animal abuse about as well as he can.

Ratchet, having his gun eaten by the mouth pervert, is beginning to worry that he, his rich boytoy, and a mostly out of commission Ten might be sliiiiiiiiightly outnumbered against a dozen Decepticons, two of whom belong to the Super Murder Death Squad. Drift, after a bit of needling, heelies a dude’s face off, jumps into the air, does a bunch of sick flips, blocks a laser with a sword in such a way that it looks like he got shot in the dick, and then lands, like, 70 feet away to scoop up the Pet and threaten to chop its head off if Helex doesn’t stop trying to vore his boyfriend.

Kaon, #1 dog dad, orders everyone to fall back. Helex, who has Ratchet like 70% inside his smelting chamber by this point, can’t believe that Kaon’s ruining the fun. Helex releases Ratchet, letting him crowd onto Drama Point with Drift and most of Ten, as the Decepticons circle them. Drift, unfortunately, didn’t think past doing sweet flips to show off after his sabbatical from the comic run, and they’re back in the same situation they arrived to, but now one of them is holding a crusty little dog.

Then a platform descends from the sky, and we see what Ravage has been up to.

Grand theft auto!

Yes, it turns out that this cat can drive, and well enough to get the boys up and out of danger, though Ten’s size means that the lovebirds have to dangle off of his remaining arm. Drift still hasn’t put down the Pet. Sure hope that thing’s been socialized to cats.

Oh, who am I kidding? Kaon wouldn’t have bothered.

Speaking of Kaon, he looks like he’s about to cry, because someone’s kidnapped his princess baby angel, and Helex doesn’t even CARE, the heartless bastard, as he orders the other Decepticons to fire on the shuttle. They, of course, hit it, as there’s at least ten of these guys firing, and they’re all decently tall. The shuttle begins to lose altitude, and Ravage, who does not have traditional hands and is currently using his tail to man the control stick, attempts to crash as close to the “fortress” as possible.

Meanwhile, over at Megatron’s plinth, we get back to that whole thing where he surrendered himself to Tarn. Tarn, feeling an excuse to monologue coming on, says that he’s well aware of Megatron’s new schtick, and he’s not a huge fan of it. Megatron clarifies that he wishes to give himself up so that the rest of the Lost Light crew stranded on this planet might live, because this is his fault to begin with. Tarn agrees, reminding him that he paid for Tarn’s plastic surgery. Megatron states that he only brought Tarn to his side to hurt “someone”.

Three guesses who Megatron could have possibly hurting by bringing Tarn over to the Decepticons, and the first two don’t count.

Megatron thinks that by bumming around space on a borderline vacation, he’s returned to who he used to be (maybe he got his teaching license, who knows) and that the war was a waste of time. Tarn gets kind of intense here, because if Megatron wasted his life, what does that make Tarn? Tarn, who has decorated his home with nothing but Decepticon symbols? Tarn, who has had corpses nailed to his wall for the last couple million years? Tarn, who wears a fuckoff stupid mask every single day of his life, even while eating and trying to kill himself with space meth cut with time travel and gas station dick pills? Also, what about all the other guys who died trying to realize Megatron's ideals? What about the little guys, the cogs that made the machine run? What about Steve from accounting, whose husband left him, because he was too busy trying to balance the budget on Megatron's body remodels and Optimus Prime punching bags that also doubled as body pillows to come home? What about Steve, huh?

Megatron basically regrets everything he’s ever done, not that Tarn cares. Megatron then reveals that whole thing where Rewind tried to retroactively kill him as an infant, and how he sort of wished it had worked.

Tarn starts beating the shit out of Megatron before the guy can start going on about how his parents are Brainstorm and Whirl, though Tarn promises that this is just a healthy dose of tough love, as surely the wimp before him isn’t actually who Megatron is. Megatron doesn’t fight back, instead just staring sadly at the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off of him. This is really starting to piss Tarn off, as he was really hoping to beat some of the fire back into his former mentor and idol. This is when he starts trying to choke Megatron, even though their species doesn’t breathe. Still, I’m sure Tarn’s stiletto nails hurt something fierce.

Megatron then recalls his conversation with Velocity, and states that if the fool’s energon DID alter his personality, it was probably for the best, and he wouldn’t want to go back. Tarn, who has based his entire selfhood on the thing that Megatron threw away to live out his probation on a cruise ship, takes this statement with all the tact and level-headedness we’ve come to know him for.

Tarn is just one more double fusion cannon blast to the chest away from smiting Megatron utterly, and he’s fully committed to doing so. However, he gets distracted by the sound of Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” coming from across the field.

WHO LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HELL

Anyway, it looks like Ravage can, in fact, drive pretty well, as the shuttle did crash pretty close to the “fortress”. Swerve, who still really wants to make up for his shitty boss behaviors and also accidentally dragging Ten into a microcosm of hell, lets Ten know that they saw his floor graffiti, and that it might actually work. Magnus, who still has his arm off, does his best to not kick Swerve across the room as he scurries underfoot, as he drags Ten inside the building.

Skids intercepts Ratchet to welcome him back, and also ask how the hell he knew to come to Necroworld. Apparently he and Drift had received a call from the handy dandy phone that he had given First Aid, who First Aid had then regifted to Velocity, just in case some bullshit happened. Velocity’s introduction to Ratchet is rough, as she manages to call him grumpy, old, and stubborn as a mule in the span of about fifteen seconds. Ratchet is mostly concerned with the fact that the Lost Light replaced him so soon after his return. Nobody tell him about Velocity’s track record with the medical exams, he might just shoot off into space to beat First Aid to a pulp for leaving her by herself.

Over in what might be a closet, Rodimus runs across Drift sitting in the dark and sharpening one of his swords. Drift seems to have used his exile to remember that he does, in fact, have some semblance of self-respect, as he doesn’t immediately forgive Rodimus for throwing him off the ship that he paid for, only to have given himself up as the real culprit behind the Overlordening, like, a week later, thus negating Drift’s sacrifice, and then never coming to find him, despite the fact that they’re supposedly friends, and, again, the ship is in Drift’s name, as was the crew’s allowance money. How the Lost Light has survived financially without Drift is unknown.

Rodimus knows that he sucks and is the worst, but he was really worried that Drift wouldn’t like him anymore, so he’d sort of been kicking the issue of “finding my ex-TIC to tell him he got publicly humiliated for nothing” down the road, to the point where Ratchet had gotten sick of it and went to solve the problem himself.

Of course, the meta reason for Drift not being found was so that Shane McCarthy could have his OC back, as well as Ratchet, for the miniseries Transformers: Drift— Empire of Stone, well known for being sort of silly and introducing the phrase “be shoosh” to Drift’s lexicon. In it, Ratchet found Drift traipsing around the edge of the galaxy being a neutral (in terms of war) hero to organic species affected by Decepticon aggressions, before crashing on a planet where Drift, back when he was “Deadlock”, had found a mystical stone army, one that Gigatron (a dude who totally isn’t anime Megatron) wanted to harness the power of, so that the Decepticons might claim victory over their enemies. Hellbat, Gigatron’s second in command, had gone mad doing nothing but killing over millions of years, and had been modifying the stone army in secret to do his bidding so he could "kill everything". Then the stone army woke up, Hellbat died, Gigatron died, and Ratchet went to take Drift to get detailed, because he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Also, if you think about it, having two former high-ranking Decepticons turning to the Autobot side being on the Lost Light’s high command might have been too many redundancies to make Megatron’s arc stand out. Perhaps, had Megatron not been added to MTMTE’s roster so late in the game, Rodimus WOULD have gone looking for Drift, finding him just in time for the DJD to catch wind that they hadn’t actually super nightmare death murdered Deadlock after all.

Drift, who can’t say no to Rodimus's puppydog face, lets Rodimus sit with him on the floor, as he apologizes for the fact that by coming here, Drift and Ratchet have unwittingly signed up for Tarn’s Political Theory and Dismemberment Slam Poetry Night, but he mega-promises that they’ll come up with something together to get through this. Drift appreciates the sentiment, but knows that Rodimus is just saying this to make him feel better.

Back at the worst fan club meetup in the galaxy, Tarn elbows Overlord in the throat and tells him to fuck off. Overlord tells him that he knows Tarn never finished his degree and only acts like an academic for the aesthetic. Tarn transforms to shoot him while reminding Overlord that at least Megatron’s spoken to him in the last few thousand years. The two duke it out with their tank modes, Overlord KRUMPing all over Tarn, before the theatre kid kicks him off and questions why exactly Overlord is even alive, given that he chainsawed his head off last year. No word on if he’s bothered to ask this same question about 75% of the people he’s here to super murder.

Overlord simply states that someone found him floating out in space and fixed him up, because it turns out that they both wanted to go after Megatron and kill his ass dead, because Overlord is sort of sick of not getting the attention he so obviously deserves. When Tarn, ever the opportunist, attempts to make a team up deal, Overlord tells him to shut up.

And then they realize they lost the old man they were fighting over.

Great work, fellas.

Over with the Autobots (and Cyclonus), Rewind’s outside, looking at that memorial to the disappeared and trying to figure out why the Necrobot laid out the names in the way that he did. He’s currently near the top, where you can see most of Roller’s name, someone whose name ends in “gator”, and Dreamwave Production’s smoldering corpse, which makes me wonder if Alex Milne ever did get all the money he was owed from his work with them. Rewind, who last dealt with the DJD not even a year ago, is trying really, really hard to not think about how many needles they’re going to jam into Chromedome’s eyes this go around.

Of course, Nautica, who has come out to find Rewind, doesn’t give a shit about Rewind’s PTSD. She wants relationship advice! She’d ask Chromedome, but apparently he’s taking a nap, still worn out from stabbing Tailgate in the brain after he rainbow-exploded all over the ship. Which happened months ago.

You know, at the rate he’s been going, Chromedome probably wouldn’t have lived too far past sunset anyhow.

Anyway, Nautica wants to know if, on Cybertron, you have to be besties before you can get hitched, because that’s how it works on some of the other colonies. She specifies that this ISN'T how it works on Caminus, which is good, given how problematic that would be, considering you need to be best friends with someone by the time you're five weeks old, and there's no telling if they're cool with platonic polyamory. Rewind informs her that it’s either one or the other on Cybertron, no double-dipping, and god help you if it’s a situationship. Nautica is asking this because she’s realized that she can’t waffle about on committing anymore, seeing as she’s probably going to die in the next hour or so, and she’d rather use that time to enter a queer-platonic partnership than get her face fixed.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn has, in fact, managed to bring Overlord to reason, much to Deathsaurus’s confusion and derision, if his squiggle face is anything to go by. Overlord, smug as fuck, informs Deathsaurus that in exchange for his compliance, Tarn has agreed to let him personally murder Megatron while everyone watches, because surely Tarn couldn’t actually kill his idealogical idol, because he’s a pussy. Tarn is being very brave about this, only letting the spot blacking on his linework show on his face, as his fists shake with rage.

Then Kaon shows up, begging they pull back their forces until the Pet has been returned, and the spot blacking gets a little heavier.

Tarn, who has had a very long day of tactical meetings, phone calls, facing his fallen idol, having a very unsatisfying beatdown with said idol, and dealing with known freak Overlord, handles Kaon’s inability to be a big boy about misplacing his shitty little dog with all of the tact and decorum we’ve come to know him for— he gives Kaon a big, beefy hug, acknowledges just how much Kaon loves that shitty little dog, and then makes sure that Kaon never has to worry about a thing ever again.

That’s a series wrap on Kaon! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Tarn, who has had just about enough of Overlord in the last half hour, smashes Kaon’s head onto Overlord’s tits, covering him in viscera, as he demands he be treated with respect, because this is HIS house, where HE’S paying the bills and calling the shots, so help him god. Nickel is very displeased that Tarn’s killed one of the Twinksome Twosome. No word on how Deathsaurus feels about this, considering that a big reason he’s working with Tarn is because he refused to kill the rest of the DJD when demanded to do so, thus showing his dedication to his men. Also no word on how the rest of the DJD are going to handle Tarn decapitating their weed man.

Tarn tells everyone to pony up, as they’re about to go over and handle all the silly little bastards hiding out in the Necrobot’s “fortress”.

Speaking of which, it looks like Megatron made it home, despite Tarn blowing his tits clean off with that cannon blast. Rodimus and Ratchet carry him inside, as Magnus is probably too busy not getting his arm put back on to help, and Megatron is using the last of his energy to hold the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off his chest earlier.

Sure hope Ratchet didn’t forget to tell Drift about his old boss being co-captain of the ship, or else this is going to be a very nasty surprise for both of them— we've already seen that Drift loves to freak out and kill sick people.

[mochasucculent]

I'm rewatching Arcane, and after my third time seeing season 1 I had a hot new reading on Viktor's scenes in episodes 6, 7, and 8.

Like a lot of other people, I felt it was weird and unsavory that Viktor - very close to death with a disease that affects his lungs - suddenly starts experimenting on his disabled leg. Those two things have nothing in common, save for the fact that the cause of both might have been the toxic fumes of the undercity, which could have resulted in Viktor being born disabled if his parents were also subject to those conditions.

So why does Viktor try to "fix" his leg when his main goal is to utilize the Hexcore to prolong and improve living conditions before he's gone?

Viktor in acts 2 and 3 is motivated to save himself long enough to make a difference in the world. Even though Hextech is revolutionary for Piltover, it hasn't reached who Viktor wanted to help this whole time, the disenfranchised in the undercity. In his mind, he hasn't done enough to change the world for the better, and he will be gone before he has the chance to do so.

After realizing the Hexcore responded to organic matter when it absorbed Viktor's blood, he experiments with plants, only to find that they wither and die soon after the Hexcore makes them grow.

This causes him to visit Singed once again for anything that could help him figure out how to use the Hexcore for magic that could save lives, one last shot at accomplishing his dreams.

Viktor parted ways with with him as a child upon seeing that Singed was willing to hurt Rio, his salamander test subject, in order to prolong her life. Viktor didn't understand that cost before, but he does now, being in the same position as Singed and Rio simultaneously, both the scientist trying to make a breakthrough and the subject he needs to save in order to do so.

Like Rio, Viktor is not his own end goal to his scientific pursuits. Singed is trying to save his daughter, Viktor is trying to help his people. He's his own means to an end, and is now willing to pay the cost of getting there.

Singed gives Viktor a variant of Shimmer to experiment with, the idea being that it will stabilize an organism while the Hexcore's magic affects it, hopefully allowing it to survive through the aggressive and sudden healing process.

Viktor injects the Shimmer into his leg, as well as carving runes into both his brace and thigh to channel the magic towards there before he offers the Hexcore his blood. It does Something to his leg which we don't see till the following episode.

The new reading I have of this scene is that the reason Viktor chose his leg specifically is not because he was trying to "fix" it, but because:

-He's not willing to put others' lives at risk and knows he's not long for this world, so the only test subject he's willing to use is himself

-He knows the organic matter he tests the Hexcore on might die

-Viktor's leg is a part of his body he's willing to lose if things go wrong and it rejects the transmutation (he also knows that he could just fully die then and there too and is willing to take that risk)

Obviously, the scenes involving Viktor's experimentation center his physical disabilities (shots of his back brace, the focus on his leg) and equate them with the disease that is literally killing him. The narrative lens shows us that Viktor "curing" himself begins with his disability, which sucks.

So while the boat scene undoubtedly is written to be "triumphant" because Viktor's leg is no longer disabled (shown by him dropping his crutch, the swelling music, the parallel to the scene where a child Viktor can't keep up with his toy boat), a different reading is that it's another experiment to him.

Viktor is stress testing the organic matter he infused with magic, and the scene is triumphant because he's realized his leg isn't deteriorating or weakening - it holds up. The mutation of the magic in his leg survived. It's a sign that maybe he can use the Hexcore on the rest of his body, keep himself alive long enough to do what he's always wanted to do: leave a legacy that changes the world for the better.

To me that's a much more in-character perspective for Viktor in these scenes than what is being said narratively through directing, framing, music, etc. Previously, Viktor had never expressed distaste for his disability as an adult, only commenting on it as a part of why he was isolated socially from Piltover. To me, him testing the Hexcore on his leg is merely an indifference to its current state, rather than a preference to have it changed. I don't even necessarily think it'd be a bad thing if Viktor did outright say "I would like to not be disabled", because I'm sure many other disabled people feel that way from time to time, but season 1 really does a poor job of pushing that framing of "curing" disability onto a character that did not express those perspectives himself at this point.

It gives off a big ol' "aw, poor Viktor, not only is he dying because of the political landscape that leaves disenfranchised people to suffer preventable diseases, but he's got a disabled leg too!" One of those things is much more problematic than the other lol.

Season 2 definitely hurtles Viktor very quickly into the Machine Herald perspective in which he thinks humans must evolve past ANY limitations of their original bodies, but to me season 1 Viktor just doesn't feel that way about himself. His primary concern has always been rooted in how to improve the lives of his people permanently, and it's only when he's actively dying that his secondary goal is to live long enough to see that happen.

It's something he drops completely after his experimentation results in Sky's death. He's immediately spiteful of the Hexcore and tries to destroy it - and himself.

Viktor now accepts that he will die before he's able to change the world the way he wanted, and hides the fact that he fucked with his body from everyone as he awaits his demise. "Fixing" his leg is not something he celebrates in and of itself, it's now only a reminder that the pursuit of his dream resulted in someone else's death.

The narrative does well in season 2 to frame Viktor's Glorious Evolution as a Bad Thing at least, and Jayce's speech at the end about Viktor never being broken is extremely valuable and important, but it's just weird to see him say this:

Cause to me now, that ain't what Viktor was trying to do at all! The writers may have retconned that to be the case, which is fine, whatever, but season 1 in isolation does not support that idea to me after this rewatch.

Overall, I think Arcane can have confusing directing sometimes that focuses on evoking feelings and themes rather than the richness of its characters, their dynamics, and the world they inhabit - to the detriment of all the above. In season 2, this resulted in a lot of scenes that felt emotionally unearned or muddy to me, like pretty much everything with Jinx, Vi, and Vander together rip.

It's for this same reason that I think it took me so long to really come to this reading of Viktor's season 1 scenes, because the directing bias REALLY wants to make you feel sorrow and hope alongside Viktor, even though it means he'll seem to randomly start equating his disabled leg to his illness. It just felt like a weird disparity to me until I watched these episodes again and was like "wait" lol.

Anyway peace and love on planet Earth I cannot stop thinking about Viktor Arcane

[justafewberries]

the arenas for the hunger games are preserved as tourist attractions. capitol citizens travel to the arenas to re-enact deaths and fights. they tour the landscapes and imagine themselves in the Games. it's posed as a luxury, fun outing, a trip with the kids.

they are so detached from the reality of the Games that to them, it’s a show, nothing more. The president says it’s to remind them of the war the capitol suffered through. The capitol citizens see it as if they are completely in the right. So who cares if some kids die? They can visit it after and pick up a keychain on the way out.

How barbaric of them. The people with unlimited food, clothing, and necessities are time and time again the most barbaric in the series.

it reminds me of all of the ways we do this in modern day, and how important perspective and intention are when visiting historical sites.

Concentration camps, plantations, battle fields, the list goes on. Most of these grounds are specifically preserved to remind us of the horrors mankind commits. And yet, in the hunger games, it’s described as tourism. While we visit these places respectfully to be reminded of the horrors, capitol citizens visit to relive it. it is not horror they feel, but excitement.

And yet, we do this, too. Places have become drenched in tourism-encouraging ghost stories. Prisons become famous for the ghosts they created. People don’t visit to mourn the dead or talk about rights, they visit to be scared by the “phantoms”. Cemeteries have become film set locations. Celebrities and the rich get married on plantations. Plantations have become resorts. Once again, the list goes on. While we might not be recreating the horrors for fun, we’ve been drawing parallels to arena tourism long before Collins wrote it into her book.

[syrupsyche]

Les Mis characters as pasta types/shapes

Disclaimer: Not Italian, not a chef, just a girl who's procrastinating way too hard on her assignments right now.

One can also blame @combeferres-mothematics for starting this train of thought...

Myriel: Cappelletti, really only bc they look like little bishop hats to me.

Valjean: Spaghetti. A classic, everyman pasta to suit his average, everyman name/persona.

Fantine: Mafaldine, also known as Riccia. Looks like an unfurled ribbon, named after Princess Mafalda. Reminds me of Fantine's curly golden hair (Riccia, too, means curly!)

Cosette: Orecchiette. The "little ears" pasta, to match her nickname "little thing".

Javert: Penne lisce. Commonly disliked because its been too smoothed out and can't hold onto sauces as such. Would be much better if it still retained its rough edges like the penne rigate. (Penne is one of my favourite pastas so don't kill me Javert lovers)

Marius: Elbow Macaroni. A little goofy, but like Valjean, its very much a classic, everyman pasta. Suits his self/reader-insert persona.

Enjolras: Angel hair. Sorry this was too easy to not grab at it.

Grantaire: Lasagna, solely because he's very Garfield-core to me

Bonus:

All of Les Amis de l'ABC: Alphabet Spaghetti. They're friends of the ABC after all!

Tholomyès: Dick pasta. Quite literally self-explanatory. Idea courtesy of @calico-cows .

Part 2 coming soon.....?

[kk-iki]

it's been a long time coming, but. . .

enough is enough. i think i've moved in relative silence when it comes to some of the more odd things that occur in this fandom, but one instance in particular is giving me pause. this honestly feels like something better suited for a substack essay, but i'll hold off on that since i think everyone in this specific sub - tumblr ( ? ) should hear this first.

i feel like so much of the call of duty fandom is trapped in a constant woman - hating epidemic.

and i don't just mean 'oh, there's barely any female character x reader content, there's nothing for the girls who like girls'. that's an entirely different issue i may or may not bring up later.

i'm talking about how a good majority of the writing i read in this fandom is so geared towards men. and i don't mean that there's a surplus of male reader content, because there really isn't. i mean that there's so many fics i read that are drenched in the light of 'doe - eyed, pouty, submissive woman who is always eager to please her man, and the idea that the man may be eager to please her in return is such an incredibly radical concept'.

i click on any 'x reader' tag in this fandom, and i'm met with a tidal wave of two specific archetypes;

the doe - eyed, pouty, submissive fem reader who is always eager to please her man and gets off on him essentially treating her like property, or. . .

a reader who has no character. no structure. no personality. a reader who is meant to be vague enough to where the actual reader can neatly insert themselves into their shoes, but at the cost of any innate substance or realness. a reader who is essentially just a placeholder in words.

somehow, inexplicably, it's more often than not the first.

write and read for this fandom long enough, and you'll see what i see in droves. the attention that is lavished on writing within this fandom is relegated to the specific archetype of the tradwife who knows nothing but to cook for her husband and be a willing conduit for his post - deployment stress relief.

and what truly infuriates me the most is that it will be these kinds of writers who are so adamantly against the idea of tradwives. yes, you say you're against it, but can your words hold up when your writing is essentially tradwife propaganda in disguise?

and it just irks me so badly when these mentalities infiltrate the characters themselves. today's specific instance of this was when i was scrolling through the könig x reader tag and i came across this one headcanon list that advertised itself as "loser!könig". nothing innately malicious, of course, but then i saw the tags.

'but also, he's a sucker for the wife, which makes him a loser. say it with me now.'

i want to make it known that i mean no ill intent towards the original author of this specific headcanon list. i don't want any vitriol to be directed at them because i'm speaking my mind about this fandom as a whole. it most likely was meant to be an affectionate, "haha, he's such a malewife loser"-esque endearment. but this set of tags just. . .baffled me.

. . .because when did it become loser - like or a loser - adjacent trait to be a sucker for your wife?

this isn't even the first instance of this. i've seen it before, the way this fandom—sometimes subtly, sometimes unintentionally—pushes this narrative that has been setting us back decades. the idea that there is not only a beauty standard that women must live up to in order to be considered desirable by men, but there is also a mentality that a woman must have in addition.

there's another fic that i read, a 141 x reader one if memory serves me correctly. it featured a reader who was insecure about her appearance, which is absolutely nothing to frown upon. what startled me, though, was the fact that the author themselves referred to the reader as 'ugly'.

the reader is a single mother. she is stated in the fic to have love handles, breakouts, and a thick waist. she has messy hair and wears baggy clothes and has dark undereye circles. she required the love and special attention of four conventionally attractive men who moved in next door in order to feel beautiful.

she is said, by the author in the precluding note, to be meant as a way to 'show some love to readers who feel ugly, instead of petite girly readers'.

as if people with these traits should feel ugly. as if people with these traits cannot be girly.

i understand i may be reading too much into this. i may be making a mountain out of a molehill. but i'm angry about this and this is my blog and you've read this far, so clearly you want to see where this goes.

and this is where it's going.

i spoke about this briefly in a server i'm in and am extremely fond of—shoutout to the shitheads.

i said, quote: "are you nothing but a slave to the whims of a patriarchal society’s dictation on how someone must present in order to be considered desirable? or are you willingly feeding into this at the risk of the self image of so many beautiful people who cannot recognize their own enchanting presences because of people like you howling at them in your sweetest voice that they are anything but?"

i also said: "have you considered the reason for that might be because she’s a recluse and doesn’t go outside apart from making sure her child is getting sufficient vitamin d and is thus making assumptions about what people will think of her on the basis of one bad man’s words to her?"

maybe she doesn't feel ugly because you think the traits she has are ugly. maybe she feels ugly because she doesn't socialize. maybe, instead of just leaving that in the subtext, you should have started with that.

the writer, if i recall correctly, was a woman. by the way. which makes this worse.

it is so difficult for me to understand how the women in this fandom can be so cruel to each other, even implicitly. from the way we're written in reader - insert fics to how we react to each others' ocs and creations. . .it's just so disheartening.

more than anything, it makes me wonder how someone like me—a lesbian who exclusively writes women for women and tries to veer away from the reader and the character falling into any one archetype—is going to find any sort of platform in this fandom.

the bottom line is that there is so much casual misogyny in this fandom. frankly, i'm a little sick of it.

one might think i'm making a big deal out of this. i know. i'm being a killjoy, i'm being a hater, i won't let anyone have any fun. but we need to remember a couple of key points here:

art is always political because there is no way to create something without a modicum of bias.

the politics promoted by the art in this fandom—specifically, the writing—are pushing an agenda that has been consistently used to strip women of their rights and needs for decades.

most of these writers are women themselves.

obviously, there's nothing wrong with a submissive woman. obviously, the characters in call of duty that are most featured in reader - insert content are canonically framed in a lens that makes it seem like they would be the kind of men to only enjoy this kind of woman. obviously, not everyone in this fandom indulges this.

but it occurs enough. and it sets us back.

and i'm sick of it.

thank you for reading this far, and for hearing out what i have to say. i promise i don't do this often—but i also promise that i absolutely should. i love you.

kiki x

[sunandflame]

Analysis: Sir Crocodile as a Lover

Warnings: none

Word Count: 692

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

crossposted on AO3

Surface-Level Behavior: The Cold Gentleman

Aloof at First, Deep BeneathCrocodile doesn’t do casual affection. He’d likely come off as distant, unreadable, maybe even cold in the early stages of a relationship. But it’s not because he lacks feeling—it’s because he guards it with his life. He’s not the type to fall easily. He calculates trust the way others calculate numbers.

Protective in Subtle WaysHe won't say "be careful" or "I love you" in words. But he’ll make sure your room is the most secure on the ship. He’ll walk on the outside edge of the road. He’ll slip you the better cut of steak without saying a word. His affection is woven into actions.

Powerfully Loyal, Once You're InIf you manage to crack that iron shell, Crocodile will protect you with the same ferocity he protects his empire. You're not just his lover—you're someone he's allowed into his most vulnerable territory. That means something monumental to a man like him.

Emotional Intimacy: The Inner Walls

High Walls, But a Sensitive CoreCrocodile’s greatest fear in love isn’t rejection—it’s exposure. He’s the type who once had hope or softness and was burned for it. So if he lets you see him off-guard—post-battle injuries, scars (emotional or physical), his regrets—that’s a kind of intimacy even deeper than sex for him.

Possessive, But Not Controlling He doesn’t micromanage your life, but he watches. Anyone who looks at you the wrong way? He’s already clocked it. Another pirate gets too close? His sand just happens to “accidentally” trip them. He doesn’t declare territory with words—he radiates it.

Terrible at Apologies, Excellent at Making It UpHe’s not one to say “I’m sorry” after an argument. But you’ll find that bottle of rare wine you liked sitting by your window the next day. Or he’ll leave you a note, curt but sincere: “I was wrong. Don’t get used to it.”

Physical & Domestic Affection

Sensual in a Controlled WayCrocodile is a dominant, composed lover. Everything he does is precise. His kisses? Intentional and intense. His touch? Measured, teasing, and slow. He knows the value of control and enjoys unraveling both himself and you only when he chooses to.

Private Touches, Public DistanceHe’s not into PDA. But in private, he’ll rest his hook on the back of your chair, lean in close when he talks to you, or brush your hair behind your ear while you read. If you’re hurting, he’ll sit beside you in silence, maybe put a hand on your thigh—silent grounding.

Surprisingly DomesticHe enjoys his cigar and wine, yes—but don’t be shocked if he reads the paper while you cook and occasionally lifts a brow in amusement when you hum. He’s the kind of man who won’t ask for a cup of tea but will drink it every time you make one for him, silently appreciating it.

Jealousy & Trust

Jealousy: Yes. Rage? No.He won’t throw a fit—but the second someone tests boundaries with you, he’ll make it clear why people used to fear him. He’s silent, menacing, and tactical about it.

Trust is Hard-Earned, But UnshakableIf he trusts you, he’ll tell you secrets no one else knows. If he doesn’t, you'll feel the distance like a desert wind. Once that trust is broken, however…he doesn’t lash out. He just becomes ice. Gone. You’ll never see the warmth again.

If You’re a Soft/Nurturing Partner…

He’d be both frustrated and captivated. You might see through him too easily. You’d infuriate him by offering kindness he doesn’t think he deserves—but part of him will crave it more than he’d ever admit. He might grow addicted to your warmth the way one craves sunlight after a sandstorm.

Bottom Line

Sir Crocodile as a lover is intense, calculating, and quietly devoted. He won’t shout his love from the rooftops—but he’ll raze an entire navy base if they hurt you. His romance isn’t flashy—it’s power wrapped in restraint. You’ll feel his love in the spaces between words, in the protective silence, in the way he softens his gaze when you speak and thinks you’re too distracted to notice.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Sinking and Floating in Indulgence MQ translation + video with sub EN (Part 1/3)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for an MQ that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Sinking and Floating in Indulgence MQ | Part 1 (1-3) | Part 2 (4-5) | Part 3 (6) | 🔞Secret Space ASMR🔞

[Warning]: The content of this MQ is explicit and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

cw: trauma, injury, near-death experience, (mutual) confinement, arguably justified drug use, intimacy as a coping mechanism for PTSD, consent is implied rather than stated. Please proceed with caution and avoid reading if these topics may be distressing or uncomfortable for you.

Special thanks to ivi (@ivioivioivi on twitter) for helping me with the translation of this date~

[Subbed Video, TURN ON CC!]

✂———————–

[Transcript Ver]

—[Part 1]—

I feel like I'm going to die.

The world is spinning, and the sudden sense of weightlessness crushes my heart as if it could burst at any moment.

I cross my hands and press my head tightly against the back of the seat. The oxygen mask on my face inflates and deflates with my rapid breathing, and white mist engulfs the breathing bag in the blink of an eye.

Captain: Our plane has encountered an unexpected situation during the flight...

Captain: Please fasten your seatbelts... Do not panic...

The hoarse announcements, deafening roars, and helpless cries collide chaotically, pulling me into a state of bewildered despair.

…Am I going to die here?

A figure appears before my eyes, and amidst the violent turbulence, his face seems to grow increasingly blurred.

Several pieces of luggage crash from above, hitting my shoulders and completely shattering all my thoughts.

The scenery outside the porthole speeds past in reverse, with raging flames and thick black smoke seemingly burning wildly in my eyes, leaving only silent pleas and prayers.

??: Buddha, please protect us...

??: No...

As an invisible huge wall slams into me, the air in my lungs feels as if it’s being forcibly squeezed out. Amid the piercing roar, my consciousness is gradually torn and pulled away.

MC: Lucien…

=Meanwhile in another place=

Deep beneath the surface, bright light illuminates the rough concrete walls and rows of metal instruments. Several blonde researchers move back and forth through the somewhat modest laboratory.

Lucien stands in front of the second-floor platform, calmly looking down without revealing any emotion.

A foreign gentleman stands beside him, his profound green eyes gleaming sharply as he raises his palm.

??: Doctor X, I didn’t expect our formal meeting to occur at such a chaotic moment.

Lucien: Indeed, it is a bit unexpected.

Lucien: However, to smoothly avoid the turmoil in such a short time and maintain such a well-equipped research environment...

Lucien pauses, his narrow eyes showing a faint smile devoid of warmth.

Lucien: It seems that aside from research, Professor Holden also holds considerable authority in other areas.

Holden: Professor Lucien, if you want to stay in such a volatile place, you must be well-prepared.

Holden: Risks and rewards always go hand in hand.

Lucien: In that case, I think we can further accelerate the pace of the experiment to minimize the risk.

Lucien: I don’t intend to let meaningless disruptions become the key turning points of the past several months I’ve worked on.

A silent tension faintly brews. Feeling a slight sense of pressure, Holden raises an eyebrow and places one hand on the railing in front of him.

Holden: I’m just as eager as you are, Professor.

Holden: But in these chaotic times, there are always accidents.*

As if in response to his words, a barely perceptible hum comes from above. The ceiling trembles slightly, shedding a shower of fine gravel.

But everyone present seems accustomed to it, continuing their work unfazed.

Lucien also looks up without surprise, gazing into the distance.

Lucien: Accidents are meant to be controlled and enjoyed.

Lucien: Chaos will ultimately become the catalyst for new discoveries, and that’s why I chose to work with you in the first place.

As he speaks, he turns and walks away. Just as he steps into the open elevator, a voice calls out with a laugh from behind.

Holden: With Professor Lucien joining us, I suppose we should indeed be more confident.

Lucien doesn’t respond. With a loud rumble, the old elevator doors slowly closed behind him.

The sound of metal grinding outside the elevator continues to roar persistently, like the distant echoes of endless artillery fire.

The fading afternoon sunlight streams in from outside as the elevator doors open.

Three days have passed since the meeting with Professor Holden.

The lab operates around the clock, almost pushing time to its limit, but the results are still not ideal.

Just as Lucien expected.

He extends his fingertip, verifying one fingerprint scan after another, before stepping out of the unassuming old factory.

The scent of gunpowder constantly assaults his nostrils. Scattered armed personnel stand guard in front of barbed wire fences among the crumbling ruins on both sides.

Lucien walks steadfastly through this land where turmoil is the norm. Only when he passes a corner does he finally stop and take out his phone.

The signal bars silently returned to full. While waiting, he looks up at the sky not far away.

A vast expanse of dark clouds churns and burns fiercely. Soon, the phone in his palm vibrates.

Lucien opens the message box and sees a text from the girl six hours ago, informing him of her boarding.

She is on a private plane back with several film industry executives. He instinctively calculates her estimated arrival time in Loveland City—

She will land in about four hours. His expression softens unconsciously, and a hint of a smile appears at the corner of his lips.

Lucien's Message: Miss Producer, you must be tired from your business trip. Thinking about how you'll be home soon… I feel a little lonely too.

Lucien's Message: Looks like I want to wrap up my work early so I can get home sooner to see you.

Pressing the send button, he hears an increasingly loud whirring sound that continues to fill the air.

Lucien looks up again. In the distance, a small passenger plane makes a sharp turn and plummets, veering at an unusual trajectory. Thick black smoke billows from its right wing.

A fighter jet closes in from behind as the passenger plane plunges into the distance, skimming beneath the low-hanging clouds.

In an instant, it merges with the smoke.

He watches calmly, then looks down to confirm that his message has been sent successfully before turning to leave.

The dust floats in the wind and settles on his shoulder.

In a world where people depart at any moment, he simply reaches out to brush off the dust before walking away in the direction he came from.

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: 意外 (yìwài) is the keyword of this date. It refers to something unforeseen, whether a surprising event or an unfortunate incident. This word generally means "unexpected" or "accident." But to keep the repetition intact and considering how, more often than not, it carries a slightly negative connotation of things going wrong, I choose to only use "accident" to translate the word throughout the whole date.

✂———————–

—[Part 2]— Video Timestamp: [04:02]

Plop—

Hearing the abrupt noise, I immediately press myself against the wall, shaking as I tighten my grip on the scalpel in my hand.

In my narrow field of vision, a hunched old woman passes by the intersection.

Her figure is shrouded in gray, and with each unsteady step, a patch of nearly black bloodstain on her back comes into view, sending a violent shudder through me.

I finally realize that I haven’t truly escaped death—

I’ve merely fallen from one desperate situation into another.

Three hours ago.

Co-Pilot: We are currently unable to determine the captain’s physical and mental condition...

Co-Pilot: Amid the chaos, the aircraft veered off its autopilot route and entered the airspace of a conflict zone, where it encountered a warning attack...

Co-Pilot: Although we managed to make an emergency landing, the current situation remains unclear...

Co-Pilot: We will continue to do everything possible to contact the airline and relevant authorities.

In a crude medical shelter, with his right arm wrapped in a rough bandage, the co-pilot speaks heavily.

Several fellow passengers frown, wanting to say something, but in the end, it turns into a few muttered curses.

Faced with the absent-minded captain, he almost single-handedly managed to execute an emergency landing in the woods.

He then proceeded to provide emergency bandages to the more seriously injured passengers in an orderly manner.

With the communication equipment failing, he relies on his memory of the flight path before the crash, leading the group toward a possible inhabited area.

It wasn’t until dark that we finally found a rundown bungalow on the city's outskirts, flying a Red Cross flag, where we fortunately received temporary assistance.

Everything feels like some kind of miracle in the midst of immense misfortune.

Co-Pilot: I suggest we stay here for now. This place is relatively safe and on the other hand...

Co-Pilot: We have several seriously injured passengers who can’t be easily moved.

Passenger: Can’t we ask them to go somewhere with a signal and contact the embassy for us?

As the words are spoken, the rushing wind carries a pungent scent of blood. They speak anxiously in a language we don't understand, pushing a surgical trolley as they rush into the building.

They already have their hands full with the constant influx of injured people.

No one speaks again, and I lower my head as well.

By great fortune, I’ve survived the disaster.

Gratitude and trance consume me at the same time. At this moment, I don’t even know how much time has passed—it feels like time has frozen into a blurry black mass.

Will Lucien know that something has happened to me?

Will my flight make the news as a ghost flight? Will he see the reports saying my fate is unknown?

I bite my lips tightly, trying to force my muddled mind to think, but my eyes slowly grow wet.

I can’t even imagine what Lucien would look like at that moment, but I know very well that staying here is the safest and most responsible choice for both him and me.

...I must survive.

✂———————–

Boom—The distant sound of what seems to be a collapse suddenly pulls me back to reality.

We’ve underestimated the level of chaos here; accidents can happen at any moment.

The conflict has reached the camp, and in the urgent evacuation, there’s only a loud noise left in the world.

When I come to my senses, I find myself alone, with nothing but a rust-covered scalpel that I don’t even remember holding.

The streets are even more desolate after dark, and I force myself to stay alert almost instinctively.

What should I do? How can I survive?

Only deathly silence answers me.

I clench my hand repeatedly, trying to force myself to stop trembling, but it’s no use.

Suddenly, a click sounds from behind me, and a cold sweat instantly soaks my skin.

Someone has appeared behind me, stepping on shards of glass.

I tremble so much that I can barely breathe, forcing myself to silently hide the scalpel in my sleeve. Turning around, I raise both hands to show that I mean no harm.

What comes into view is a pair of black leather shoes covered in ashes, yet there’s not a single crease or scuff on them.

They are not combat boots, nor do they bear any traces of blood, which makes me breathe a sudden and grateful sigh of relief.

Perhaps someone from the medical team has found me. With that thought in mind, I lift my head, only to find myself staring into a pair of familiar eyes.

Those dark, indifferent eyes seem to contract intensely the moment they see me.

The world suddenly loses all sound, and on the eerily empty street, Lucien stands across from me.

MC: ….

I don’t dare to move, not even to blink.

It feels like a grand hallucination on the verge of collapse, one that’s ready to burst like a bubble the moment I move.

My blurred vision makes his face even more indistinct, and that figure also seems to walk toward me in a daze.

He, too, seems to hold his breath. His steps gradually quicken, stirring the hem of his coat and the dust in the air until he stops right in front of me.

His chest seems to tremble uncontrollably, and his slightly shaking fingertips fall upon my face. Cold. Undeniably real.

Lucien: …MC?

His low, hoarse voice feels both near and distant, leaving me dazed as I gaze at him, feeling his uneasy yet fearful touch brush against my cheek.

MC: …Lucien, is it really… you?

MC: Am I… going insane?

Lucien: [his shaky breath as he speaks༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽] …Fool, how could I… be just your hallucination?

He lifts my hand and brushes it against his cheek as if confirming*.

The cold, dry sensation spreads through my fingertips, and just like that, the tension that had been stretched to its limit finally snaps.

MC: Lucien…..

MC: Lucien… I’m… so scared…

I don’t know how I appear in his eyes at this moment. All I want is to hold him tightly. To be held tightly by him.

His unbearably tight embrace brings pain, but it’s the reality I desperately need right now.

This man who has always been effortlessly composed now seems to have lost all sense of restraint.

Lucien: [still shakily gasping] …It’s okay.

Lucien: It’s okay now… MC.

He murmurs the words over and over, I don’t even know if he’s saying them for me or for himself.

Lucien: I’m here…

Lucien: I'm right here by your side... Don't be afraid...

The head resting against my shoulder feels so, so heavy as if something even weightier has sunk into the depth of our souls along with it.

I don’t know how long I’ve been crying.

Only when I have finally let out all my emotions and lean into his embrace do I realize that I’ve arrived in a warm place—

Surrounded by irregular rock walls, the air is filled with a damp, mineral scent.

The rising steam soothes my nerves, and I tug at his collar with more ease.

MC: It's okay now, Lucien...

MC: I'm not afraid anymore...

Lucien: [in a soft, hoarse voice] I’m afraid.

His voice is so faint it feels like a figment of my imagination. I want to turn my head to look at him but find myself gently and firmly held in his embrace.

Lucien: It’s safe here. I’m staying here for now.

Peering over his shoulder, I see an open door leading to a clean bed, a few sofas, and a table.

In the corner of my vision, a gray toothbrush rests inside a glass cup, and the razor I gave him is neatly placed.

I freeze for a moment, feeling like something is off.

MC: Didn’t you say you were on a business trip…?

Lucien: I am, and I’ve indeed been staying here for a few days.

Lucien: I know you must have a lot of questions. To be honest, so do I.

Lucien: But right now… there’s something even more important to me.

Following his lowered gaze, I see the dirt covering me and my tattered clothes, torn in places I don’t know.

My drooping strands of hair are covered in dust, resting against Lucien’s clean shirt.

MC: I got your shirt dirty.

Lucien: ...Stop saying such silly things.

He gently pecks the space between my brows, his fingertips naturally undoing the loosened buttons on my clothes.

MC: Lu—!

Lucien: Shh….

His lips move downward, pressing insistently against the corner of mine.

Though very light, it is filled with an undeniable firmness.

Lucien: [gasps breathlessly] Don’t push me away.

Lucien: [X2] I also need to confirm that you're really here with me.

Lucien: [X3] Let me help you… okay?

It isn’t really a question. His voice lingers at the edge of my lips, flowing with his breath, making my head feel light and dazed. Instinctively, I nod at him.

His fingers move slowly yet deftly. Bit by bit, patches of deep bruises become more visible.

His warmth spreads through me faster than the cold.

I’m too embarrassed to look at him, so I bury my face deep into his chest instead. I feel him scoop me up in his arms and carefully lower me into the bathtub’s warm water.

The sudden heat stings me, jolting me awake as I grab Lucien’s wrist.

MC: Wait, the other passengers I was with, because of the conflict, they’re now…

Lucien: Don’t worry, someone will take care of it.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Right now, only you matter the most to me.

There seems to be something growing wildly beneath his calm gaze. He subtly and seamlessly intertwines his fingers with mine, gently submerging my body into the water.

The deep and shallow bruises appear even more striking in the clear water. A dull ache seeps into the water, causing a small, instinctive sigh to spill from my lips.

Lucien: Relax.

He applies slight pressure, gently prying apart my fingers that are curled around my knees. Carefully avoiding the bruises on my thighs, his hand presses downward.

MC: [moans] L-lucien…

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] I just want to help you relax a little more.

Lucien: [gently] At least for this moment, be a good girl... okay?

Another question that isn’t really a question.

I can’t get a single word out**, so I can only bite my lower lip, watching as he kneels by the bathtub, a soft towel in his hand, lightly stroking over my arm.

Lucien: Does it hurt?

His low, hoarse voice is caught in his throat as if suppressing something before finally smoothing into a calm steadiness.

MC: …A little.

Lucien: [chuckles, then whispers softly] Then I’ll be gentler.

His gentle, unhurried touch warms one arm before moving to the other. Then, it follows the top of my foot, slowly moving upward.

As he leans down, his large shadow envelops my whole body, and I instinctively tremble with each faint mark he leaves behind.

Something seems to be stirring madly in his calm gaze, suppressed within his silence, driving him to confirm me even more deeply and intimately.

I feel as if I’m sinking into the warm water, yet also weightlessly floating with it, my hands instinctively clutching the fabric at his chest tightly.

Lucien: [HOLY THE BREATHLESSNESS AND SUDDEN URGENCY?] …bear with it a little longer… wait for me...

As if to soothe, his even more scorching lips descend, teasingly hooking and coaxing my lips and tongue, relentlessly drawing me in.

At some point, his entire body has also become drenched, his drooping bangs soaked with water, revealing those unfathomably profound eyes.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] I'll help you get rid of all the pain.

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: the wording in Chinese is ambiguous; it could mean either that he is making sure she’s not his hallucination or that he’s reassuring her that he’s real :") and this ambiguousness HURTS bc you know that he also has the same fear as her (this will be expanded more later on memory silhouette). This guy really said, "…Fool, how could I… be just your hallucination?" yet he’s in disbelief himself that she’s real and I’m just SOB-

**: 说不出任何话 literally means "can't say any words at all." However, the nuance is deeper than just the inability to speak. It can imply being so overwhelmed by emotions (orcoughpleasurecough) that speaking becomes impossible. Besides being overwhelmed, it’s also often used when somebody wants to say something but physically/emotionally just cannot.

✂———————–

—[Part 2]— Video Timestamp: [10:36]

Even when carried to the bed, my whole body still feels light and weightless.

An oversized shirt is put over me, its scent different from the dense smell of gunpowder as it carries the light freshness of grass that I’m familiar with.

Lucien casually changes into fresh clothes, grabs a few towels, then pulls me into his arms and smooths back my damp hair.

MC: …How about I do it myself?

MC: It’s inconvenient for you like this, and it’ll just get your clothes wet again.

Lucien: But it seems my hands can’t let go of you… they need your warmth even more.

His gentle yet firm fingertips stroke the back of my neck, resting the side of my forehead against his shoulder. His legs settle on either side of me, enclosing me within his territory.

The world is enveloped in tranquility, with only the rustling sound of a towel rubbing against damp hair remaining.

MC: It must be pretty inconvenient for you here too, there’s not even a hairdryer.

Lucien: Don’t worry, the equipment here is a bit more complete than you think.

His low voice brushes past my ear, making me look up in confusion.

MC: Then why do you…

Lucien: Sound of the hairdryer would make you uncomfortable, so this will do.

I freeze for a moment. That trace of distant rumble and roar still seems to be howling, yet at this moment, they appear to settle into a quiet stillness within his deep eyes.

Only now do I notice more clearly that he seems to be slowing down his breathing as if he's cradling something fragile.

MC: …Do I look like a total mess?

Lucien: How could that be? To me, I never would have imagined that in a place as desolate and ruined as this…

Lucien: I could still be lucky enough to encounter such a beautiful and resilient color.

Lucien: Even though I never wanted you to be here.

Lucien: I can’t help but wonder… if I hadn’t stepped out the door today if I hadn’t turned left...

His words come to an abrupt halt, followed quickly by a faint chuckle that carries a touch of self-mockery.

Like a staunch materialist*, yet hesitating over irrational ‘what ifs’.

The rhythmic beating of his heart echoes in my ears, but that subtle, unintentional quickening of its pace seems to take on another name—

It’s called ‘lingering fear’**.

The arm holding me seems to tighten in the next moment, and I can’t help but clutch the front of his shirt, burrowing myself even deeper into his embrace.

Lucien: Right now, I’m already by your side.

Lucien: I’ll take responsibility for driving away all those unpleasant things lingering in your brain.

MC: Really?

Lucien smiles lightly, and the tension in his brows and eyes finally eases slightly.

Lucien: [chuckles] As a brain scientist, it would be difficult for me to lie to you about this.

Seeing him feign seriousness while explaining, I can’t hide my laughter at his dry joke.

MC: Lucien, let me tell you about my brush with death.

MC: Maybe facing it head-on will make it less frightening.

Lucien doesn’t speak for a moment, only silently changing to a new towel.

I rarely see him like this, so I can’t resist reaching out and gently smooth the furrow between his brows.

MC: [worriedly] Do you want to hear it?

Lucien: …Perhaps, the one who is more afraid is me.

He closes his eyes, presses a light kiss to my fingertips, and finally looks at me with an even deeper calm.

Lucien: I’ll do my best to hold back the ache in my heart and listen carefully.

MC: Lucien, you’re just as much a fool as I am.

Lucien: [genuinely] You're probably the only person in the world who would praise me like that.

In his tender, lingering kisses, I finally steady my mind.

MC: Actually, I still don’t have a clear understanding of what exactly happened during that time.

MC: I only heard the co-pilot say that the captain suddenly had some kind of mental issue…?

MC: Later, our plane accidentally entered a no-fly zone, was threatened, and ultimately had to make an emergency landing.

Lucien's breathing seems to have stagnated for a moment, and his eyes droop slightly.

Lucien: Your plane… Did the right wing get hit?

MC: Hmm? It seems... to be true?

MC: I was sitting on the plane's right side at the time, and all I could see was black smoke. But I was so scared then that I couldn't really tell...

Recalling that scene, I still instinctively curl up in lingering fear, not noticing the way his eyes suddenly contract sharply.

MC: But luckily, everyone was safe. We just kept walking and were rescued by a local civilian medical organization.

MC: But the scene was too chaotic. Later, the gathering site was also affected, and I got separated from the main group during the evacuation.

I pause, looking into his eyes with mixed emotions.

MC: And then I met you.

MC: …All of this is just too unbelievable.

MC: The accidents in this world really catch people completely off guard. I feel like I’ve had the worst luck… but at the same time, I also seem exceptionally fortunate.

Lucien: ….

He falls silent again, it's unclear what he is thinking.

I don’t know how much time has passed. After ensuring my hair has been completely dried, he casually throws the damp towels aside.

The world suddenly quiets down, and Lucien wordlessly raises his hand, his fingertips gently brushing over the bruises on my body.

As our skin touches, a slight itch ripples through my skin, accompanied by an extremely faint pain sensation.

Thinking of his confirmation in the bathtub not long ago, I can’t help but feel my face grow slightly warm again.

I lift my head and kiss the corner of his lips, lingering until our breaths intertwine, then smile and wink at him.

MC: [smiles softly] Don’t worry. With you here, I already feel much better.

MC: When I get up tomorrow, I’ll definitely return to full strength. Then, we can…

As I speak, I suddenly stop, realizing something.

MC: Are we... still near this area?

Seeing him respond softly, my heart tightens.

MC: You said you’ve been here for a few days, so that closed-off lab you mentioned... is it here?

Lucien: Yes.

Lucien: Even though this place is far from tranquil, I have a reason that makes it necessary for me to be here.

His voice possesses a certain indifference and resolve. I gaze at him for a moment before slowly speaking.

MC: Are you doing something dangerous?

Lucien: ….

Under my gaze, Lucien remains silent for a long time, long enough that I almost think he will find some way to sidestep the topic until his low voice finally breaks the silence.

Lucien: The research institution I’m working with now is one I had contact with years ago when I first joined BS.

Lucien: They have a considerable amount of multinational projects, as well as some that can hardly be called ethical or compliant. In one way or another, some covert dealings are involved.

Lucien: All I can say is, yes. The things I’m doing are not safe.

Lucien: So I hope you don’t go anywhere and just stay by my side.

Seeing him be especially frank about his thoughts, I can’t hold back my smile.

MC: Lucien, I'm not asking about myself, I'm asking if you will be in danger.

He freezes for a moment, then smiles without the slightest hesitation.

Lucien: [totally not lying-] No, I won’t.

Lucien: I should be able to get what I want soon, so don’t worry.

He presses a light kiss to my forehead, pulls back the blanket, and wraps me in its softness.

Lucien: [chuckles] But… I think that’s enough of a bedtime story for now.

Lucien: Just like you said, I want to see you full of energy as soon as possible, smiling without any worries or strain.

Looking at his incredibly close face, I smile and lean in closer to his scent.

MC: What should I do? I’m still a little reluctant to sleep.

MC: It might be a bit late to say this now, but after so many days apart, I’ve really missed you all along.

Lucien: Me too.

Lucien: So all you need to do is close your eyes, I will always let you feel my presence and longing.

Like finally returning to the most secure and reassuring home***, I relax and close my eyes.

One after another, incomparably intimate and affectionate kisses fall upon my face and between my lips, as if scattering in tiny, delicate fragments that sink into the depths of my heart—

—until I fall into an exceedingly gentle dream.

.

.

.

When I open my eyes again, daylight is already shining brightly.

Lucien isn’t by the bed. As I get up and step out of bed, I notice that my wounds seem to have been tended once more.

MC: Lucien…?

The room is quiet. Breakfast is laid out on the table, along with a laptop and a slightly old-fashioned phone.

He hasn’t left a note, but I still smile with an unspoken understanding.

I’m just about to wash up when the phone screen suddenly lights up. A message pops up, showing Lucien’s number.

Lucien's message: Good morning MC. I’m already at the lab.

Lucien's message: I’ve arranged for someone to contact and assist the passengers who were with you, so there’s no need to worry.

Lucien's message: I’ve also informed your company that you’re safe. Work matters can be left to them for now.

Lucien's message: Get some rest, I’ll return as soon as I can.

Sunlight spills in from the balcony, and a gentle breeze brushes against my face, carrying a touch of winter’s coldness.

Yet, I don’t feel the biting cold. Instead, there’s a sense of warmth and security.

Though the scene before me remains desolate and ruined, the world feels tranquil right now, free of the terrifying tumultuous noise.

I step onto the balcony and see golden light magnanimously illuminating the earth. A small bird perches under the eaves, occasionally lowering its head to preen its feathers.

A faint wave of emotion wells up in my heart. Perhaps this place would have been entirely different if not for all the turmoil.

But what I’ve never noticed is—

—the little bird on the eaves has only one wing.

✂———————–

[T/N]

*: Materialism is a philosophical belief that only physical matter exists and that everything can be explained through the physical world and natural laws. It also can be a philosophical viewpoint that denies the existence of the spiritual world, fate, and alternative possibilities as only physical matter exists. Materialists prioritize what can be observed, measured, and tested. Lucien mocks himself for speculating about "what ifs", because it involves considering possibilities that may have no empirical grounding, which contradicts materialist core belief that only the physical matters.

**: "后怕" doesn’t refer to *just* fear, but a delayed sense of fear, a realization of how terrifying something was only after it has already passed. He has just come to the realization of how close he was to losing her forever, and it filled him with 后怕. In some contexts, it can even be directly translated into PTSD.

***: I translated it as 'home' for brevity, but the term "归处" (guīchù) is composed of two characters: "归" (guī), meaning "to return", "to belong", or "to take refuge", and "处" (chǔ), meaning "place" or "location". Together, "归处" conveys the idea of a refuge or a place where one truly belongs. For MC, Lucien is not just a home to return to, but also her 'place' of belonging, someone 'where' her heart feels at peace, much like a final destination where one finds solace and stability.

✂———————–

Part 4 & 5-> [Here]

[kaz-identified]

I’ve talked before about how it’s one of Savathûn’s most cruel actions towards Crow to make the outfit that he gets from her when she’s disguised as Osiris be just a straight recolor of what he’s wearing in Forsaken.

Because it is. And it feeds into the fact that it’s Savathûn who is the one to reveal his past to him. She had that planned from the start.

There’s lore tabs of her, disguised as Osiris, telling him, when he receives that new outfit, that there will come a point where he can no longer outrun his past, and it will catch up to him. Because she was planning to make sure of it.

Every action that she takes in regards to him, is just a constant kind of cruelty. Because unless we forget, Forsaken was kind of her fault. Just got expanded upon more in season of the witch and wish, but it was clear from the start, but it’s Sav’s meddling that led to the curse on the Dreaming City.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s implied or right already stated somewhere that at that point, it was her commanding the Taken there.

Forsaken was part of her greater plans. And Uldren was a pawn in it.

Because he always is. That’s one of the great tragedies of Uldren and Crow’s narrative.

Until the point where the Young Wolf frees him from Spider, he’s never really free. He’s a pawn, he’s an asset.

But all of that, ignores the true worst thing that anyone does to him. Which is giving him those fuck ass shoes.

I will never get over this. Why the fuck is he wearing loafers on the battlefield.

[bennetsbonnet]

Don't you think that Darcy was selfish with his family legacy by marrying Elizabeth for love since her lack of money and connections would inevitably affect Pemberley's coffers and the dowries of his future offspring?

Selfish is absolutely not a word that I'd associate with Mr Darcy when it comes to Pemberley. While he was undoubtedly selfish in many other ways, I think it's pretty clear based on what Mrs Reynolds tells Elizabeth and the Gardiners during their visit that he took his obligations as master very seriously and, consequently, he would never have done anything to jeopardise the estate's continued prosperity. He took his responsibility seriously in that department, perhaps to the detriment of his ability to give a good account of himself and make a good first impression on others (not that I'm excusing his behaviour!! He was awful!!) but I think there is perhaps an explanation for his apparent contradiction in appearing as a kind, generous master in Derbyshire vs conceited snob in Hertfordshire.

Darcy was very, very well off. I don't think it's inevitable at all that Elizabeth's lack of wealth would've adversely affected Pemberley's coffers whatsoever. Sure, he could've gained all the De Bourgh wealth and of course Rosings Park with all its expensive glazing if he had married Anne but... in not marrying her, Darcy was not rendered a pauper by any stretch of the imagination. His wife could've brought absolutely nothing and it wouldn't have made an impact, really. An income of ten thousand per year is not an insignificant sum. Plus there's all of the interest that a figure would've generated, that's a little complicated and we don't need to get into that but if he managed his money well (which by all accounts he did) then it would've increased year upon year, therefore leaving his and Elizabeth's children in a strong financial position.

As for the figure of ten thousand pounds itself, I'm not fond of simply translating it into today's money for scale because that doesn't tell the whole story so I won't do that.

Rather, here is an interesting breakdown of the finances for a year of a family with an income of £500:

(Here's the source for the above table, also featuring some more insight into finances!)

That table gives you some idea of the relative costs of a household. When you see that rent and taxes set them back 'only' £50 and the two maid-servants earned £15 for an entire year... it helps to put into perspective just how much money an income of £10,000 was!

Plus, when you consider that Jane Austen herself had an allowance of only twenty pounds per year and ultimately only earned £350 in her lifetime for all of her writing, whereas a lawyer earned £1500 a year and even that income, for a comparably high paid profession, is still far less than Darcy's clear ten thousand... it's very obvious he didn't need to marry for money at all. By all accounts his father ran the estate well and Darcy had followed in his footsteps. So, he'd absolutely earned the right to marry for love by being a good master. If he'd neglected Pemberley and needed a rich wife, like Anne, to balance the books but still put his obsession with a comparatively poor woman with fine eyes first, and married Elizabeth despite knowing Pemberley would go to rack and ruin then, yes! that's selfish! But that wasn't his reality.

Also, while you can look at Elizabeth bringing no large dowry and only really herself to the marriage as a bad thing, I would argue that actually merely viewing her contribution through the lens of her worth in terms of cold hard cash is somewhat simplistic and that, perhaps, such a view brings the baggage of the modern capitalist society that we (well, a lot of us) live in, to an era that it doesn't belong in. Women back then who were mistresses of large estates, such as Pemberley, essentially undertook full-time jobs they didn't earn salaries for. Sure, it wasn't truly arduous, intense, back-breaking work, but there was a lot of planning and management to be done; such as organising the staff (in conjunction with a housekeeper), visiting tenants, interior design, formulating menus, budgeting for clothes/linens, sewing items for the poor and doing their own version of networking with other wealthy families of respectable lineage (with social calls and hosting dinners).

So you see, it's not as simple as 'Elizabeth was poor so she brought nothing,' nor was her background necessarily a hindrance, because coming from the family she did would've taught her a great deal about economy, which was such a valuable skill to have as it could allow women to advance their positions in society by looking wealthier than they actually were. Knowing how to economise was vitally important, in a society where so much mattered on snap judgments people made about the clothes you wore, how many servants you kept and whether you had your own carriage or needed to hire one... if you could make an annual budget of £350 look like £500, that was an impressive, sought after skill. I'm not saying Elizabeth would've needed to economise to that extent, but it isn't as simple as 'more money = more worth.'

It would have been better for Darcy (and he was intelligent, I think he would've realised this long before he met her) to have had a wife from a less affluent background but who knew how to make a budget stretch, rather than have a wife from a rich family with a taste for the finer things in life who carelessly spent money on frivolous purchases. THAT would be true selfishness to his children, jeopardising their future with a mother who couldn't, or rather wouldn't, economise and leaving Pemberley in a worse state than it was when he inherited it. I can't imagine Elizabeth spending beyond her means, not when she would've frowned upon such behaviour by Kitty and Lydia and have watched her mother waste money, as 'Mrs Bennet had no turn for economy,' (Ch. 50). Such prudence with money would have been a very desirable trait in a wife. He would've felt secure she wouldn't overspend and ruin his estate. So, although she wasn't wealthy, she was still a catch in so many ways.

And I also want to point out that though I've been commenting on her lack of wealth, Elizabeth wasn't poor! She was of the same class just at a lower end than Darcy (but most people were, compared to him). His problem with marrying her was never about her family's comparative lack of wealth, his concern was with their behaviour and lack of eminent connections, as we learn during his first proposal. Though the Bennets and Longbourn were at the lower end of income for an estate and Pemberley was definitely in the upper echelon, Longbourn was a decent sized estate itself! Elizabeth would've known something about estate management.

Plus, that first proposal shows us that she absolutely wasn't after his money. A good marriage with a prosperous husband was important for a woman in Elizabeth's situation, yes; it was necessary in order to save her from the misery that would unfold after Mr Bennet's demise, but she had shown that she wasn't overawed by his money. In fact, I think it was a hindrance to her ever forming a good opinion of him rather than a help. That's probably what Darcy had been looking for his entire life, someone who genuinely loved him for him and not his wealth! Though he found it out in perhaps not the nicest of fashions, ultimately his dreadful first proposal made him even more certain that when she accepted him, she did it because she truly loved him, not because of any financial considerations.

Anyway, to wrap up: no, I don't think Darcy was selfish in the slightest when it came to Pemberley, nor that a lack of money from Elizabeth would have had a detrimental impact on Pemberley's coffers nor their future offspring.

His children (even if there were lots of them!) with Elizabeth would have been absolutely fine and had impressive dowries even if had to come entirely out of their father's wealth. Plus, even if the Darcy children were ever in a situation where they were cash poor, to be associated with such a family and an estate would open many doors for them, given the weight their name would've carried in important circles. Darcy was fastidious, he would have considered all of this before his marriage.

Ultimately, he earned his love match and happy marriage by not behaving like a Wickham and throwing money down the drain, and Elizabeth should be viewed as contributing an awful lot to the marriage in other ways than merely through the lens of money, which overlooks the hours of work she would put in to running an estate such as Pemberley.

Elizabeth and Darcy were a brilliant match in many ways and even their wealth disparity, though considerable as they were at very different ends of their class, by no means undermined that fact.

[abrisaber]

Okay I actually finished the episode this time and holy shit what a turnaround.

Now this episode isn't perfect, obviously, but to be honest it might be the best of Season 2's character writing. Millie ACTUALLY trying to sympathize with Blitzo and apologize while Blitzo actually tries to get his shit together is just perfect.

It feels SO GOOD to actually have someone in this fucking show who doesn't treat Blitzo like complete shit while also not sucking up to him. Blitzo's self destructive episode is obnoxious and harmful and he is doing damage to the people around him, but he's also deeply, deeply wounded and Millie is mature enough to see that and give him support while also not downplaying what he's doing.

Yes Blitzo is absolutely stepping out of line, but Millie can see WHY he's behaving like that. She can relate to Blitzo because she's also had feelings on inadequacy and she gives Blitzo the support he's always given to her.

Legitimately if you told me that scene and the scene in Full Moon with Stolas were written by the same people, I wouldn't believe you. THIS is how you show Blitzo's bad actions as a response to his emotional trauma hurting people, NOT like that shit in Full Moon where he turns down the love proposal from the privileged asshole that's been sexually harassing him for the entirety of their relationship and can't take no for a fucking answer.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #50 — The Midlife Crisis Cruise Comes to an End

Our issue begins on Earth— not Swearth, but honest-to-god Earth— where Optimus Prime and Jetfire are watching a broadcast. It’s not syndicated television like I Love Lucy or The Transformers (1984), however. No, this broadcast is coming from some of our favorite Lost Lighters, detailing their last will and testament.

Nautica wants to be buried on her home planet, and doesn’t give a hot gay fuck what they engrave on her sparkcase. Also she’s missing a good chunk of her face, but don’t worry about that too much.

Chromedome’s just happy that he’s dying WITH his husband this go around. I’m sure Brainstorm’s also thrilled to not have the “please please please stop stabbing yourself in the brain to avoid the pain of being a widower Jesus Christ we can’t keep doing this” conversation for the fifth time in a row.

Rewind takes the opportunity to poke Chromedome in the inferiority complex one last time, making his message out to Dominus Ambus. Our resident lovebirds want to “enter the afterspark simultaneously”, though that seems more like something to address with whoever’s killing them.

Over on Cybertron, in Metroplex’s titties, it would seem this broadcast is VERY wideband, as Starscream and Scoop (we’ll go over whatever the fuck’s going on there in another post) witness Nightbeat’s will and testament, though considering Nightbeat’s technically undead, I’m not sure how much legal weight it holds. Having done the whole “dying” thing before, I’m sure he’s spent many a long, sleepless night thinking about how it would happen next time. Ikea Johnson wants a “Neoprimalist” funeral, where they preserve only the head. Interesting that Nightbeat's religious sect is the same as Flywheels, the Scavenger who only existed to be a stand-in for the word "fuck".

Over on Luna 1, Red Alert is convinced that Megatron is using his gun mode to threaten Nightbeat. Fort Max isn’t so sure.

Minimus shows off the most recent trick he’s learned, saying the word “fun” with only stuttering twice. He wants to be buried on the moon, next to all of Rodimus’s failed pregnancies, and wearing the skin of a man who’s been dead for thousands of years.

Whirl doesn’t want a funeral, though you’d think he’d at least want his corpse thrown in the general direction of the Wreckers’ base, where every member gets a slot in the Zone of Remembrance as part of the onboarding. I know he got kicked out, but being shot out of a rail gun at Debris sounds roughly his speed.

Rung only requests that, should he die in his vape pen form, that he be dismantled. He’s very committed to preventing underage smoking, and for that I commend him.

Rung’s request greatly disturbs the Scavengers, who seem to have forgone fixing the Krok-shaped hole in the wall and buying a couch more than two of them can sit on at a time, in order to afford a replacement TV, after Krok fastball-specialed a golden disc through the last one.

On another part of Cybertron, Windblade and Wheeljack watch Velocity state that she doesn’t regret a single thing that’s happened while she’s been a part of the Lost Light. To recap, in the few months Velocity’s been aboard: Thunderclash almost died of being too perfect, Velocity’s first boss ran off to go bang a billionaire with a sword collection, Swerve almost died from too much television, her second boss ran off to get roped into the Polycule Wars, Tailgate exploded, Rung was revealed to be practicing without a license by way of a weird gibbon with a ball gag and his serial killer boyfriend, and she became the only practicing medical professional aboard a ship of over 200, after failing to pass her medical exams ten times. Oh, and she wants to be recycled.

Optimus wants to go save them, thinking that there’s still time. However, the Lost Light isn’t responding, and it doesn’t actually matter anyhow— these recording were sent out weeks ago.

Looks like that’s a series wrap on Nautica, Chromedome, Rewind, Nightbeat, Minimus, Whirl, Rung, and Velocity! Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!

Three weeks prior, on the planet of Miliarium, action is happening:

Being on your headset in the middle of a battle seems rather rude, but I suppose sacrifices to politeness have to be made, when one of your co-captains is effectively forbidden from stepping foot on any planet that’s aware of Cybertron’s existence, given that he, y’know, is the face of a cause that slaughtered billions over the course of millions of years.

(No, don’t ask Optimus how relations with Earth are going.)

Megatron, continuing to command from orbit, tells Whirl to go help Cyclonus and Crossblades with the Rust Giants’ longship, asking for no casualties. Which is sort of like asking a horse on cocaine to not freak out and kick someone in the head, if that horse also had guns tied to 30% of its body.

Rodimus asks Megatron if he’s enjoying himself, playing a pacifist run of a wartime strategy game with their lives, and Megatron says that he’s “rumbled”; which I’m not sure if I’m search-engining wrong, but I don’t know that even the British are saying that to mean they’re right chuffed or tallywackered about a situation, or whatever. Rodimus is suddenly faced with a Rust Giant that he doesn’t even come up to the knee of, but luckily we have a new superhero to save the day, by way of incredible violence.

Looks like we’re still workshopping the battle-cries.

Tailgate punched this guy so hard it caused a jump-cut to the post-battle celebration, where Rodimus shows off his multi-typefacial abilities, Megatron perpetrates his bigotry towards organics, the Cybertronians make galactic news for a not-awful reason for once, and Swerve is also here! For some reason! It looks like it’s gonna be all peaches and cream from here on, so long as we ignore the first three pages of this issue!

Hey, Cyclonus, you have to wait for him to call you, you're not an Autobot. Just because the little white guy you're Sufjan Stevens-level attached to is going, doesn't mean— Cyclonus, hey. Hey, Cyclonus. Cyclonus. Cycl—

Later, back on the Lost Light, class is in session. We finally get a look at those course Megatron’s been teaching, only briefly mentioned by Riptide in issue #29. The current course track is on the Knights of Cybertron, Megatron having assigned those in attendance to write essays tackling “pre-Functionist folklore and contested heritage”.

Today’s class consists of:

Minimus (old as balls, former high society)

Skids (the best at everything)

Brainstorm (literal genius)

Perceptor (slightly-less-literal genius)

Nautica (jack-of-all-trades brainiac and bibliophile)

Crosscut (former senator, current playwright, therefore probably has at least some sort of degree)

Nightbeat (nosy as fuck, loves to figure shit out)

Hound (former Primal Vanguard)

Thunderclash (perfect student, researcher, friend, confidante, and maybe even lover)

Grapple (not much to say here, other than he’s fucking jacked in IDW)

Xaaron (chief legal advisor for the Autobots)

And Riptide (created during the war and therefore has the least connection to Cybertron's folklore, canonically not a good test-taker)

Poor Riptide's grades don’t stand a snowball's chance in hell against his peers', but good on him for sticking with the classes regardless.

This essay was assigned to help students establish context for the Knights within a world where they have not existed for millions of years, having disappeared since they embarked on their quest to Cyberutopia; a world where information creep, the slow degradation of memory as time passes, has made them into mythological figures. Megatron posits that the only thing we really know about the Knights is that they failed to do what they set out to do, as the universe is not a peaceful place, himself arguably being exhibit A of that failure. Still, he intends to use this course to help the Lost Light’s crew understand the Knights to the best of their current, modernity-biased ability, prior to potentially meeting them. Considering that the Knights will be deciding Megatron’s fate, perhaps this is also for him to grapple with understanding his own end.

Anyway, let’s look at a plot device.

The last time we saw this symbol was during issue #46, both drawn by Grimlock on his walls, paired with the words “prepare confront repel”, and then on some mysterious fellows who were working with Krok’s nasty little friend Demus and someone called "The Grand Architect". However, the first time we saw it was with Skids in #21, after he went through Tyrest’s space bridge and talked to a giant technicolor ball of light.

Seeing this image kickstarts Skids’s memory, enough so that he interrupts class over it. Nautica has also seen this symbol, at an exhibit on Troja Major (a planet that Roberts will use as a dumping ground for many plot points in the sequel series to MTMTE) where it was claimed to be some sort of coat of arms. Thunderclash also knows this symbol, having seen it with his beautiful mind and kind heart in his visions, the same visions that were leading him to the Knights and allowing him to create a map to Cyberutopia. Nautica asks Skids to write out the symbol that he “heard” phonetically into her space phone, in a move that will prove HIGHLY useful later on. Perceptor adds in his two cents, showing off that he’s wearing the “feminine” nose-type today, stating that he had talked to one of the Circle of Light members back in Season 1, who had theorized that the Knights of Cybertron was either originally made up of OR broke down into clans, and that the symbol/map Rodimus and Thunderclash were drawing is merely connected to part of the Knights, and that there could be others floating around.

Nightbeat thinks that all this brainstorming (which hasn’t involved Brainstorm, oddly enough) is super cool and great, showing off his anime thumb in approval. When Minimus tries to give Megatron props for bringing everyone together to figure this out, he finds that Megatron is having some troubles, hunched over his podium as far as his fucked up old man toy articulation will allow. When Minimus approaches to see what’s wrong, he gets punched clear across the room for his troubles. Then this happens:

Look, I don’t care if 99.9% of the Cybertronian population can reclaim, you shouldn’t just limp your wrist at your first officer in the middle of class.

No, what Megatron is actually doing is pointing the fusion cannon he doesn’t have anymore, but had attached to his arm for roughly 4 million years, directly at Minimus’s tiny little skull. Quickly coming back to himself, Megatron is both horrified and mortified by what he’s done, offering nothing more but a quick apology before he dismisses the class and bolts, not even helping Minimus off of the floor.

The following day, Velocity’s paying a visit to Megatron’s room, which is STILL as barren as the most dire of single male living spaces. Velocity’s here because Megatron missed his appointment yesterday, after whatever happened in the classroom. Megatron reminds her that the weekly appointment is for him receiving his ration of “fool’s energon” which is meant to keep him in a weakened state, which arguably shouldn’t make it medicine in the traditional sense. Velocity reminds him that he nearly knocked Minimus Ambus’s (yeah, she uses his full name, guess she’s not been around long enough to get “just Minimus” privileges) block off, and that if Megatron had been at full strength, we might be dealing with a murder situation instead.

Though Minimus IS a load bearer, who regularly slings around a body three times his size, on top of weapons, so maybe not. Also, there’s an even smaller guy inside the first mustached guy, so honestly it’d probably be fine.

Does Velocity even know about the irreducible Minimus? Is that in his medical history? Does she even know that Ultra Magnus and Minimus Ambus are the same person? Because Megatron didn’t even know until they found that corpse on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, and Magnus was his lawyer for the trial as well as being his SIC. Really, what are the legal ramifications of Minimus having assumed the identity of a dead man, now that Tyrest isn’t there to keep up the charade and the secret is a bit more open? Does Minimus have legal claim to Magnus’s identity, or at least ownership of the armor? Can Minimus lay claim to any property he purchased as Magnus, or that the previous Magnuses had purchased prior to their deaths? Was Minimus legally declared dead prior to undertaking the role of Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, if only to make things easier in terms of paperwork? Can Minimus sign off on things, and if so, does he use his own signature, or Magnus’s? If he signed something as Magnus, would any contract bearing it be rendered temporarily void whenever he’s not wearing his work pants? How much of Minimus’s existence makes him cry late into the night with how legally dubious it is? Does Delta Magnus know about Ultra Magnus being a skin suit? I feel like we don’t focus on how fucked up this whole situation is nearly enough.

Anyway, Velocity asks after Megatron’s medicine, probably because First Aid’s medical note-taking skills often get usurped by his need to write SpringerxReader fanfiction. She mentions that what they’ve been feeding Megatron over the last year have some side effects, which Megatron seems surprised by. Considering he’s felt sickly and crampy this whole time, the side effects are likely meant to be the intent of the medication.

Velocity then takes a gander at the dents Megatron put into his head when he had his little freakout, stating that “chemo-sedatives” can change one’s whole personality in extreme cases, as well as increased stress levels, as Megatron admits that the reason he crushed his head with his hands is that he heard voices screaming. However, Megatron doesn’t think stress caused such a thing.

To recap how the last year has gone for Megatron: he was forced to renounce the cause he had led for the last 4 million years, became co-captain of a fucking Carnival cruise ship, had 95% of his crew disappear from reality, found a bunch of corpses, got slapped in the face by Soundwave’s dad, had to lie to Rewind’s face to make him okay with killing himself so that everyone else might live, got shot as an infant, gaining anywhere from three-to-five fathers as a result, visited the most passive-aggressive garden in the galaxy, got stabbed in the chest and brained with a flat-screen television and then had to apologize for it, and was non-consensually hugged by a swarm of flesh-eating insects parading around in his SIC’s skin suit.

Velocity gets a call on her smart watch, Swerve on the other end demanding her presence at the medibay, seeing as she’s the only doctor on the ship now, and there are multiple people having a crisis.

Smash cut to Swerve, Cyclonus, Tailgate, Chromedome, Rewind, Rung, and Megatron standing on the bridge, their colors looking super fucked up and light bloomed out, because this is a 40-page issue with a shit-ton of detail and characters, so we’ve got three colorists, two artists, and an extra inker on for this one. They’re meeting with Rodimus, whose fingers have shrunk down to the size of shoestring potato fries, because Swerve, Tailgate, Rewind, Rung, and Megatron heard some sort of awful noise in their brains at the exact same time. Chromedome is here to support his husband, because he loves him so, so much, kissy-noise kissy-noise. Cyclonus is here mainly to clarify that he’s a badass who no one has ever heard cry, because emotional vulnerability and expressing pain are for pussies, unless you’re doing it by way of self-harming directly onto your face meat.

Only Tailgate and Rewind actually admit to what they heard, Tailgate hearing Cyclonus berate him for falling for Getaway’s tricks and Rewind hearing Dominus berate him for not doing enough to find him. I’d imagine both Rung and Swerve were hearing things relating to their professionalism, given that Rung fucking sucks at his job, and Swerve’s gonna fry the moment Ten gets a union sorted out. Megatron, is well, Megatron, so there’s a litany of awful things that he could have heard.

Rodimus has Blaster reveal that the ship received a signal at the exact same time that these people had their little brain event. Brainstorm hypothesizes that what happened was some sort of psychological assault, perhaps of Galactic Council origin, as a means of testing a new brain weapon. Magnus, who has been up on an upper level with a clipboard up to this point, notes that they could trace the signal. Mainframe informs him that they have, but the origin doesn’t seem to correspond to any known location in the navigation, and they’d have to physically go there to see what’s up. Which isn’t sketchy in the slightest.

Rodimus wants to load up on his big, beautiful Rodpod with everyone, so they can find who did this and make them stop. When Magnus questions if this is a wise course of action, Rodimus uses American grammar to trip up Magnus’s British-based spellcheck, so he gets to do whatever he wants. This is a trick he’s picked up since Drift left, as the old game of “pitting my people-pleaser hippy dippy boytoy and my no-nonsense stick-up-the-ass sentient rulebook against one another, so whatever I wanted to do from the start can seem like a pleasantly centralized option” doesn’t work very well when you replace the boytoy with a grumpy old man who tried to murder everything with a heartbeat.

Velocity wants to join the trip alongside Team Rodimus, but Mainframe has his reservations. I don’t blame him, considering she is, again, the only medical doctor currently on board this ship. He suggests she take along some personal protection, just in case.

…I mean, he’ll definitely make sure any bad guys who come her way will die horribly, if nothing else. Also, apparently the Rodpod's artificial gravity goes all the way around.

Nautica’s spent the last few weeks tricking out the Rodpod with a fancy schmancy new teleport drive, because Rodimus was annoying her to the point where if she didn’t give him what he was moaning about she might have had to kill him. Megatron is hesitant to use the drive, but after being informed that there are safety perimeters in place that’ll keep the ol’ Rodimus Podimus from teleporting inside a asteroid or whatever, he pulls the level and they end up in the dark.

No, not space dark, don’t be funny. That’s my job, and they don’t pay me for it, which should tell you how dire the situation is. This is a special sort of dark. The sort of dark that leads to panic and lethal levels of quipping. Rodimus cuts the lights on, but it does very little to offset the absolutely suffocating darkness outside. Rewind notes that there aren’t any stars, and Tailgate admits that he doesn’t know how space works. That’s alright Tailgate, neither do any of the people who draw or color this comic. You’re amongst (created by?) friends here.

The scanners reveal that there’s something 3000 miles in front of them. And behind them. And to the left, to the right, 12 o'clock, three o'clock, six o'clock, nine o'clock, rock around the clock tonight— that is to say, they’re surrounded by something the size of a planet. After disabling the safety protocols on the Rodimus Podimus, the gang find themselves on the surface of Necroworld, where the Necrobot Censere lives and operates his many plinths to the living and dead. Megatron isn’t exactly thrilled to be back here. Nightbeat on the other hand, is overdosing on mystery, and he couldn’t be happier. Nobody’s sure what the fuck is going on. There’s no time to theorize, however, as half the gang just got blown sky high.

Everyone books it back to the Rodpod to escape the dozen attack craft coming after them, but there’s more trouble here— the teleport drive is dead. Which is weird, because they should have had enough juice to get to and from their little trip. When Rodimus tries to contact the Lost Light, there’s no response. They’re not responding. Megatron tells him that those are two different things, mirroring the same thing Optimus said about trying to contact the Lost Light after he and Jetfire viewed the will tapes. Everyone else is busy trying to figure out who the hell could be firing on them, all of them roughly coming to the same conclusion that Cybertronians as a whole aren’t terribly well liked, and the Lost Lighters have made a bit of a name (derogatory) for themselves, since they insulted the Galactic Council, caused the end of the 16-million year Stentarian war, and have ruined at least one bar with physical violence over home movies.

Rodimus tells Megatron to park the Rodpod at the Necrobot’s citadel, just in time for a missile to hit the ass-end of the shuttle, blowing off Magnus’s arm, shredding off roughly half of Nautica’s face, and giving Cyclonus an excuse to hold Tailgate in his arms. Everyone bolts to get inside, Nautica being carried by Skids so we can further solidify the straightest pairing in the series. Once they’re all inside, their attackers retreat, and we see where Censere’s gotten to in all this.

Let’s give him a hand, folks!

While Velocity looks over the body, Nightbeat deals with his personal Santa Claus being dead by way of trying to figure out what happened. Megatron, meanwhile, noticed that the craft that attacked them were of Decepticon design, and he tells Ravage to go check it out. Honestly, I doubt he was the only one to notice, given that all but three of the people on this trip were dealing with the Decepticons in some form or fashion all throughout the war, and could therefore identify the make of the crafts, if not the model, so I’m not sure what the deal is with this secrecy.

Brainstorm is brought over to Nightbeat to help solve this mystery, and he promptly identifies that some of Censere’s equipment is very similar to the stuff Tyrest used for the Aequitas trials, likely used to figure out what sparkflowers to plant where. Rewind, having popped his sparkliest nipple pasties on, because he hates Censere and wants to get glitter all over his house, asks the boys to scootch on over so he can try to call the Lost Light. Nightbeat thinks that Censere tried to sabotage a signal someone else had sent in an attempt to lure Team Rodimus (and friends) to the planet, and that resulted in the brain attack that had happened earlier in the day. Unfortunately, Censere didn’t spend any time with Rodimus the last time the Lost Light visited, so he didn’t get a taste of the ridiculous way Rodimus likes to live his life, and why the psychic attack wouldn’t work.

Rewind gets the phone working, calling Rodimus over to get on the horn. Magnus stands in the background, showing off his grievous amputation. After a bit of fiddling with the settings on their end, the Lost Light makes official contact with Team Rodimus.

Getaway, last we saw him, was very much in prison, but Rodimus isn’t going to focus on that niggling little detail right now, as he asks for the Lost Light to swing by to pick up the team so they don’t all die. Getaway sort of DOES want to focus on that detail, however, as he very much didn’t appreciate being fetish fuel throughout the holiday season, and, despite his name, didn’t actually escape that setup. No, Getaway had help.

Man, guess Megatron should’ve reconsidered failing Riptide on his essay.

Speaking of Megatron, he walks up about now to see what all the hubbub’s about. Rodimus, looking like he’s about to cry, realizes that Mainframe lied to them about not being able to track the signal. Getaway gives him points for getting that right, but really, he wants to drive home the point that the entirety of the crew wanted Megatron’s little pals off the ship. And that’s what it’s really about, at the end of the day. Getaway hates that high command gave Megatron a party cruise to live out his last days on, last days that might not even happen, with the track record of this goddamned quest. He’s sick of Rodimus and pals acting like this whole arrangement isn’t an affront to every single life that’s been snuffed out because of Megatron’s actions.

Everyone other than Whirl seems pretty bummed out by these accusations. Swerve pipes up, enraged that he’s been doomed to die alongside everyone else— he doesn’t even LIKE Megatron. Getaway reveals that at some point or another, he and Atomizer (the interior designer turned bowman, you’ll recall) approached every single crew member and asked if they thought Megatron deserved to have a second chance and also, completely unrelated, but what would you do in the event of a coup? Anyone who didn’t provide a desirable answer got visited by the nudge gun fairy— that gun that can fire thought into your brain, or just erase memories if fired dry. The collection of headaches main cast have been experiencing over the last several issues? The side effect of being shot. Skids especially does not like this reveal.

Of course, Getaway isn’t just upset with Megatron’s leadership— he’s also mad as hell what’s supposed to be a trip to find their ancestors, who will guide them back onto the straight and narrow, has, in actuality, been Rodimus’s midlife crisis road trip. Getaway wasn’t even here for Rodimus and Drift’s ass-slapping contests and insulting galactic officials who want the Cybertronians dead, but he didn’t need to be. He took one look at the Rodpod and decided he needed to kill Rodimus right then and there.

Rodimus, at this point, remembers the list Atomizer had offered him back during the trial. Magnus, biting his lip at the idea of a list existing, asks what that’s all about, and Rodimus explains. Getaway really was hoping that Rodimus would take the bait, so he could’ve blackmailed Rodimus into stepping down and letting literally anyone else take over. Probably Magnus, at that point in the timeline, given that he hadn’t gotten buddy-buddy with Megatron yet. Unless Getaway considers acting as someone’s lawyer under order of the space pope as being too close to an individual.

Getaway decides that this conversation has reached its natural conclusion, as he’s got questing to get done, and it should be moving at a pretty even clip now, since he’s excised all the distractions. Rodimus swears to come after him, but Getaway doubts it’ll happen, given what’s happening next.

While this debacle has been happening, Ravage has been busy searching a crash site, trying to uncover the identity of who the hell’s decided to attack them. Tarn commits a microagression at him, before firing his twin fusion cannons.

The call ends, Getaway cutting off the comm to all contact.

Ravage shows back up at this point, to give everyone the bad news.

Nightbeat, honey, the tragedy is in the opposite direction.

Now, that’s technically the finale of the main story, but there’s a little bonus comic attached to the end, acting as a sort of sideways epilogue to hint at what Getaway and his merry band of mutineers will be getting up to, since we aren’t seeing them again for a bit.

Our little backup strip begins right before the original launch of the Lost Light, where we see some guys we haven’t seen since the 2012 Annual issue. Shock and Ore wander around what will one day become Swerve’s, Shock convinced that this ship is actually the ship they lost 5 million years prior, the Unitrex-1. Ore isn’t so sure, but as the readers, we saw the exact moment that Unitrex-1 disappeared in issue #38, after Rodimus forgot to wash his hands while putting the quantum engine together. Shock, wanting to prove that he’s right, fumbles around in the dark, looking for the graffiti he carved into the underside of a table. Ore gets a call on his space Blackberry while he’s doing this, and we finally get the other half of that call Prowl made in issue #1, after he failed to get Chromedome to stay on Cybertron. The Duobots have 20 minutes to get Overlord’s massive, lippy ass on the ship. Knowing that that isn’t a ton of time, the two quickly book it out of the bar, leaving the spectral form of Skids to look really bummed out.

Later, at Swerve’s grand (secret) opening, we see some more old faces.

Whoa now, Drift, you’re not supposed to be back until next issue!

Pipes thinks he’s been cursed to not have friends, since Hubcap is still at his dead-end job with the Wreckers, and Riptide was too busy being in a coma to come say goodbye. How rude!

Drift doesn’t seem to particularly want Pipes around more than necessary, pushing him to be friends with Rewind, who he describes as having kind eyes. Whether Drift is doing this to keep Pipes safe from overhearing any Overlord-related secrets, keeping his ass-slapping and sexually-tense sword training time with Rodimus safe, or just because he finds Pipes to be mildly annoying isn’t clear. Pipes, however, is looking for more than friendship— he’s looking to bone down.

Pipes’s ideal partner is wide as they are tall, with tits to match and at least one alt-mode that he can use as a yacht. Drift tells him he can introduce him to Tailgate, though something tells me Pipes isn’t really Tailgate’s type, given that he can actually say what he means and doesn’t have some fucked-up facial situation.

It’s really too bad that Pipes died, because I bet he would have loved Nautica, and he would have REALLY loved Nickel.

Later still, we see all of our doctors together— even Ambulon is there! In one piece, even! Ambulon wants to tell First Aid something, and First Aid automatically tries to make it a cosmetic thing, because of COURSE Ambulon would be insecure about his bad skin, and what he really needs is a better cleanser. What Ambulon actually wants to talk about, though, is his alt mode, and the fact that the puns involved with being part of a Combiner make him want to die. First Aid understands, but Swerve, known menace to society, might not be so compassionate, as he throws a grenade into the back of Ambulon’s head, triggering his transformation. Ambulon is mortified, and Swerve does the thing that Ambulon literally just said he hates. First Aid continues to rip flakes of paint off of Ambulon, as the specter of Velocity watches, looking pretty bummed about the fact that she never got to be part of banter like this.

Later on than that, Rewind and a wheelchair-bound Rung are in the currently-empty Swerve’s, as Rewind calls Chromedome to gather up one of the groups for those storytelling circles Rewind organized to try to fix Rung’s brain. He hangs up, then tells Rung that once his brain works again, they’re going to have a goddamned chat about Dominus Ambus, which is only mildly hampered in its threat by the fact that Rewind standing is barely the same height as Rung sitting down.

Rewind then gets to work writing out the story map for when the “Shadowplay” group gets there, as the specter of Chromedome reaches out longingly for the dead version of his husband. He laments that this Rewind died without closure, but the ghostly specter of Rung reminds him that there are rules to this, and they have to leave now. Not sure why Rung’s here to watch himself be threatened by Pipsqueak McGee. Is he actually doing his job for once, helping guide someone through their grief? I doubt it, since Chromedome isn’t a hottie bo-body like Skids, and his problems haven’t (directly, at least) caused the sort of trouble that make entire star systems hate you like Megatron.

Later, during the Overlord disaster, Perceptor sprints into Swerve’s, shouting for a medic, as the rest of the battered and beaten watch. Hoist, himself hooked up to the wall by some sort of cable, while wearing his extra-special Rodimus Star, offers to help, though he’s technically an engineer, and whatever he’s gonna do probably won’t have any consideration for the soul or ability to feel pain. Perceptor was using Tripodeca— sweet, beloved, friend to all, who was the star of the post-Overlord mass funeral Tripodeca— as a, uh, tripod for his rifle, when Overlord probably noticed that the ol’ science sniper looked sort of familiar and did a lil’ grabbing with his big nasty hands. Hoist asks if Perceptor is going to stop Overlord, and considering how things went the last time Overlord was the star of the show, I doubt Perceptor thought he was gonna get lucky twice in terms of survival, especially when Overlord is riGHT BEHIND HIM OH GOD LORDY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH

How Perceptor survived this isn't clear, but we know he did, as he continued to show up in the story past issue #15 in a decidedly alive, non-paste form. His specter watches this scene unfold, expression unreadable.

Post-Luna 1, Swerve stands in his ruined bar dejectedly, when he realizes that quite a few people have shown up to help him clean up the mess, as long as he promises to reward their hard work with reopening once it’s done. As everyone works to get things back in order, Swerve tells them to keep an eye out for a non-trashed Legislator that he could use as a bouncer, once he fucks around with its head enough to make it do what he wants. Ten’s specter watches as his shitty boss and arguable father is gifted the body that would become him, making a note to get his union going with a bit more urgency.

Later, on the day of the “Fuck Off Megatron 2-for-1 Drink Deal”, Crosscut leads Riptide, Mirage, and Nautica on a tour of the ship. Mirage notes that Swerve’s is a bit of a dive, not suited to his refined tastes in the slightest. In a booth, Getaway and Atomizer have boxed Mainframe in on either side to have a little chat. Swerve and Bluestreak talk television, Bluestreak making a little jab at MTMTE’s second season not being quite as well-received by fans as the first. Over at the bar, Highbrow and Perceptor talk about Quark, while Brainstorm watches while having his briefcase, which he is NOT supposed to have in here.

Crosscut goes on about this bar being where all things happen and where bittersweet is the most often-felt emotion, then calls Trailcutter/blazer an alcoholic as he dances on the ceiling. The specters of just about everyone on the ship watch their fallen friend, enjoying the moment and missing him terribly, as Perceptor brings them back to the here and now of the story, which turns out to be just after the holiday special, judging by the Christmas lights.

Minimus asks if this is safe, and Perceptor says that it is, as nobody can actually interact with the past, because Brainstorm is the only one who’s ever actually perfected that tech, not that this isn’t his fault either. It turns out that when you try to fly against the stream of time as it naturally occurs, you tear a few thousand itty bitty holes on the way to perfecting the process. Perceptor’s found a way to let others view the past, at least for a little while. Minimus is fine with it, as long as everyone continues to behave, and it seems like they are, as everyone mingles in Swerve’s.

The two of them sit down, Megatron handing Minimus what I’m sure is a mocktail, and Perceptor explains that while the window into the past is closing for now, it may open back up in the future. When Rodimus asks when that might be, he then immediately decides that he doesn’t want to know, instead wanting to have a fun little surprise for later. They don’t get very many of those, fun surprises.

As everyone toasts to the dead and to future adventures, the specter of Getaway watches on, smug as hell.

That’s the end of “No Guns, No Swords, No Briefcases” but that is STILL not the end of the issue! It never ends, this thing! Because the number 50 is very big and impressive, obviously this is a double-sized spectacular, and has to cap off with a note from the man himself— James Roberts.

And then after that we get a new notes from fans, but this is already obscenely long and I think I can show you the crux of what they’re all saying right here: MTMTE (2012) is fucking good. It’s a good series. Make your goddamn family, friends, coworkers, librarians, and goldfish read it. Share it with people you’ve never met. Get a long-term personal project out of it. Get long-term friends out of it. Get a long-term romantic partner out of it. If I can do it, so can you!

[atalkingrat]

IT'S OUT BABY (430 SPOILERS)

"led by Bakugou"

Again, Kacchan is the one to lead class A to Izuku, because he is his closest person.

[beigetiger]

My one prediction for the end of phase 3 is that Valkyrie is going to end up using the whatever-machine to steal Winter’s true name and use it (probably as secretly as she can) to stop Winter from committing terrorism. Winter will LIVE, yes, but she will always have the threat of her sister using her true name against her over her head. She will never be able to CLAIM her true name. She will always be stuck like that.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

The Mandela Effect

Theory on R1999 so spoilers for 2.2, spoilers for 1.9 and onwards. This is not Global Friendly especially for 1.9 and 2.2.

This will only make sense if you have gone through the first three patches of 2.0.

This will be major major spoilers for 2.2 for the implications this has so anyone following CN servers feel free to message me about this.

(May Vertin nui block the spoilers!)

Alright then.

The Mandela Effect is the type of memory that occurs when different people incorrectly remember the same thing, eg if the Monoploy man wore a monocle at all, logos having a different design in comparison to how some people remember it.

2.2 introduce us to Mr Duncan, a Zeno military veteran who lives in Sao Paulo. Both Sotheby AND Vertin both mistaken Mr Duncan for Mr Karson, and remember either of them had a chance to take a photo of Mr Karson or anyone else in 1929 before the Storm occurred. Duncan mentions having a war friend of his who had a child near Sotheby's age. This seems to concidental to be a throwaway line. Appearance wise their eyes look the same but I hear you ask, but Mr Karson looks older in 1929 and its confirmed 2.2 occurs in 1990s how can they be the same person?

See Paulina from 2.0: she is the one mentioned in Book 4 by the narrator, someone who was caught by the Storm and only her hand remained. We meet her brother Joe in 2.0 who goes to confirm her "death", sees her leftover hand (wow not expecting that) and then looks at her photo and immediately thinks the Foundation was lying. In some sense their are two Paulinas here, the one Joe remembers and the one the Foundation remembers but more or less are the same person.

Vertin with Mr Duncan has outright confirmed that:

One Mr Duncan is in fact Mr Karson, that there are multiple instances where people or events have been altered from recorded history.

Two.

THE PEOPLE WHO ARE REVERSED DO NOT DIE IN THE STORM!

With Marcus and Heinrich we confirm the Storms do not just make time go backwards but instead reverse a certain era to a different period, just not beyond 1999. Therefore we can for example, be in the 1950s and be reversed to 1980s but never going past 1999.

We confirm that the Grandfather Paradox does not apply to this world, so killing someone in one time will not necessarily led to the death of their family line.

The Storm can be accelerated by causing or accelerating critical points in history, leading to them happening earlier than expected = changing the original timeline.

So what if the Storm reversing places to completely different era backwards and forwards actually does the same to people?

Take Mr Karson: the 1929 Storm could have flung 'him' into the 1990s, his core history of being a war veteran would not change but now he isnt looking after Sotheby instead lives in Sao Paulo. Being flung into the 1990s has caused a butterfly effect in a sense to his own history: what if he remained in Sao Paulo at the end of his war service for example?

R1999 is playing with the Mandela Effect here: the Foundation will remember recorded history prior to the first Storm, and now history is being slightly altered by the Storm. The changes would eventually become so often and with so many to record the true original history may be forgotten entirely. It will become harder to tell what was the original until that new altered history becomes the memory incorrectly remembered by others.

So all victims of the Storm are not dead then are flung to different eras and places, slightly altered but in essence that original person. However it would be hard to investigate what would happen if a person were to be caught in multiple Storms, reverse in one and again in another (maybe thats what is happening to Martha Urd Bessmert)

Someone like Schneider then would still be alive somewhere, maybe in Italy, maybe a little bit different but in essence the same one we met in 1929 but doesn't know us. Same goes for Isabella, the Ring, people of Aperion and etc etc. Maybe we met 888 before she ever found the island, see the Ring potentially at the age he would be now in Scotland since he is implied to be Scottish.

This opens up the table for any of the people Vertin had met in the past to met them again.

Playable Schnieder or at the very least her return is no longer off the table and very possible now, this doesn't take away the impact of her 'death' as likely she will have no recollection of the time spent with Vertin and co, they did just meet within 24 hours. (BP would be so cruel if we met her in an Orange farm in Italy).

(I need a second opinion on us tbh, 2.2 at the end was really dropping huge things to set up the 2.0 story wow)

[mimpinightmare]

"SUPA STRIKAS DISCUSSIONS/ ANALYSIS/ HEADCANONS" INCOMING!!!(PART 1) [Not Sure if this becomes a series]

TOPIC: Riano (Headcanons)

Been thinking about Riano for the past few days, because absolutely miss the guy. (and can I say: HOW UNDER UTILISE HE IS IN THE SHOW??!??! GIVE US MORE RIANO!!!)

And I've been thinking about some headcanons for him about how he was born and raised as a kid, and how it affect him until he's an adult, but torn which one I like more:

Number 1) My first headcanon of him is that he wasn't born in a very wealthy household as a kid. His parents had low income jobs, and try their very best to support their kid and themselves (even so far, both of them need to have two jobs). Sometimes the struggles came of a cost where, rarely at times, Riano's parents fight (they usually fight where Riano isn't around, unfortunately Riano has been eavesdropping his parents sometimes if they fought). Despite this tho, they still are a very loving family and Riano's parents support Riano through and through.

I like to also think the line "Finding your own style of play" from Riano in "Instinct Extinct, S1E7" is actually from his parents. Riano used to be frustrated as a kid that he wasn't as good at football like the other kids, that his parents (despite knowing little about the sport) advice him to "find your own style of play". That line always stuck to him until now, that it his main motto, to the point, authenticity is very important to him. If you don't play your heart out with passion and authenticity in football, what's the point of it?

His competitiveness came from where he used to be made fun of from the big kids where, at the time, he wasn't great at football yet. So, he wanted to prove them that he can be as great (and better) than them. He also wanted to prove his parents that he can be great at it too, despite them knowing, he IS great at it. (Their proud parents, I tell you) There is also a hint of love language there from Riano, where pretty much, ever game he plays, it's always for them.

Despite of his competitiveness though, he always been a good sport. His parents raised him well to know better then to sulk immaturely and have grudges towards his opponents playing well, after his team lose. His competitiveness is also only (AND ONLY) limited to football. (The guy is passion with the sport) I've seen him being SUPER UNINTERSTED with any other competition event made by Miss Altivo, like in "Living and Kicking, S4E3" when Miss Altivo explaining the reason why they were invited, he gave such uninterested facial expression, like he regrets coming. Reason he stayed tho, is because of Shakes, and want some quality time with him. *COUGH COUGH he also has a crush on him COUGH COUGH* Also in "Your Latest Trick S7E3" there are brief moments that Riano is not really into the prize, nor the competition. He's just... Looking at his phone, that's it. And immediately got eliminated because he wasn't doing a trick, he was just resting in the park- If it's just a silly little competition or event to get viral, views or some over aggerated prize, he wouldn't care-

His dedication with honesty and sincerity came from learning about people taking advantage and being dishonest to his parents. His parents will do anything to have a stable life , but they unfortunately will meet deceitful folks in their way. They never told him about the mistreatment they face, because they wouldn't want to make him worry, but Riano knows. (Pretty much knows this by the eavesdropping from one of their fights) After learning this, he has a reluctant distaste towards dishonest people. (Also, I headcanon that the "actual" reason Riano fired Golari, is because of his dishonesty. They patch up their relationship of course in S1E6, and Golari swears not to be dishonest to Riano and his players again)

Number 2) (This one have some inspired headcanons by @sahara-solaris-solace headcanons of Riano)

The other headcanon is the opposite of the first ones, that he was raised in a wealthy home. But, unlike the first headcanon, his family in this headcanon, are not so loving. His parents are more neglectful and have high expectations for their son. When Riano told them that he loves soccer as a kid, they weren't happy about it and told him it's fine to play it, but never fully support the idea to be a professional football player, to the point, they don't allowed him to go to soccer practices in schools. To solve this problem, he sneaks out from his home, just to go to soccer practice.

Number 1 headcanons of him being authentic, sincere and honest are mostly because of his parents. Well here is the opposite too, his parents are snarky, arrogant and constantly show up with a friendly face in front of guests, and when they immediately leave, they will say the nasties things about them behind their back. After Riano getting repulsed by watching their behavior from afar, he swore deep down NOT to end up like his parents. (AND THANK GOD FOR THAT-)

Despite him born into a luxurious life, he HATES expensive and flashy stuff. Growing up into a neglectful, rich family made him uninterested anything that reminds him of his old life (and technically, almost all the rich people he's ever met are annoying to be around) This is pretty much another way I see in "Your Latest Trick S7E3", he just does not care about the grander stuff. He's a simple man, want a simple life. The only thing "GRAND" in his life is his football career. (This can be a headcanon as Number 1, except he was raised humble. No EXTRAVAGANT things for him)

His still is a good sport, and wouldn't change that for anything. But I kinda headcanon (this can implied to number 1 Headcanons as well) he has a *TINY* mischief side to him. When he was young, MOSTLY he always avoid getting into trouble, but sometimes he joins some troubling kids, and start doing shenanigans with each other- This headcanon was inspired by a scene in "Your Latest Trick" where Skarra was driving his *MASSIVE* Stalliano, and Riano was recording him- (Habits dies hard, huh?) He wouldn't, of course, do this for fun. He doesn't enjoy doing them, but again, he likes seeing dishonest people get karma-

Also headcanon Riano being a very charitable person. If there's is a charity event going on, he will be interested and pays attention to the cause. He wants to give back to the people and bring good to the world, unlike his parents. (This one is also can be a headcanon for Number 1, except in that headcanon, he sympathies with people (and animals) who are struggling, because that's what he and his family has gone through. And people shouldn't suffer under terrible conditions.) This one is inspired by, of course, one of @sahara-solaris-solace headcanons, and "Cool Aid S6E12", where he joins the cause, "Balls 4 All". (THAT'S SUCH A HILARIOUS TITLE NAME IN THIS DAY AND AGE-)

This is @sahara-solaris-solace Headcanons dedicated to Riano, if you want to read them :D :

.... Okay, that's pretty much it-

If you read this till the end, HOW PATIENT ARE YOU???? Jokes aside, thank you so much! This took me 4 HOURS TO WRITE-

If you have anything to discuss about the headcanons, please don't hesitate to give me your thoughts on them! Which one is your favorite between the two? Share your headcanons if you like! :)

THIS WAS INCRIBLY FUN TO WRITE- Maybe this will be a series(????)

(Sorry if there are incorrections with the grammar or the episodes. I will edit them if I spot them)

- MimpiNightmare

[bad-holmes-impression]

Reminder that anybody is able to paint any fictional character in a negative light if they want to.

If a fanfic author has suffered abuse, sees something that reminds them of that, and decides to write about a character of their choice overcoming it, that’s up to them. If you have a staunch belief of “[X character] would never say/do that!”, then you can just ignore it. The “don’t like, don’t read” policy always applies.

This especially applies to parents. For example: Quirin from TTS. I love reading some wholesome apple dad fics if I’m in the mood for them, and I also love exploring why Varian would believe that his dad doesn’t have pride in his capabilities and that he “never knew [Varian] at all.”

You can headcanon all of Quirin’s shortcomings as miscommunication, or well-intentioned, or from emotional immaturity, or out of trauma from his past, and you wouldn’t be wrong. Just like how fanfic authors can delve into the negative ways he’s impacted his son, and interpret them how they see fit. Nobody is wrong or right, because these are fictional characters, and every single viewer will experience the show a little differently. That’s okay! That’s a good thing!

(Not to mention the fact that so many things with Quirin never got properly resolved— the letter, what happened to Ulla as far as TTS’ explanation, his relationship with the Brotherhood now, etc. It is very valid for the lazy writing to sour some people’s views on the character.)

FOR TUMBLR READING COMPREHENSION:

-Am I definitively saying Quirin is a bad father? No. I am saying that everyone’s interpretations are valid. He can be your favorite parent/character in the show or your least favorite parent/character, or somewhere in the middle, and that’s completely fine. No one is wrong or right about him, and even if we got more screen time with him, he would still be up for interpretation, because he is fictional.

-Am I saying his actions are excusable if they’re out of trauma? No.

-Am I saying his actions are impossible for him to make up for? Not at all. Plenty of people have written about him and Varian growing past their conflicts (since, again, we didn’t get much of that in the show.)