#intelligence and the scaffold

[bsahely]

Tending the Threshold: Integrating Generative Boundary Intelligence into Integral Theory | ChatGPT4o

[Download Full Document (PDF)] Tending the Threshold critiques and reimagines a foundational aspect of Integral Theory: its treatment of developmental transitions. While Wilber’s framework provides a powerful cartography of consciousness and complexity, it often underspecifies the liminal dynamics — the embodied, symbolic, and relational processes that support safe passage from one stage to…

[taylor-titmouse]

now that cadogan and his little guys are their own things i can explore freely, i want to talk a little about how they're made. lore subject to change of course, but the general idea i'm working from atm...

the in-universe term for what they are is "chimeric homunucli", but for ease i usually refer to them as cadogan's servants. they are not familiars. familiars are different. the three most basic components a chimeric homunculi must have are bones, blood, and semen. other elements can be added to better determine the form of the guy, but you won't get anywhere without those three things. bones are the scaffolding on which the body is built, blood forms the flesh, and semen provides the spirit. all three of these will have some effect on the personality and behavioral traits, but that mostly comes from the blood and semen. the blood imbues instincts, semen imbues intelligence and creative thought.

cadogan prefers to use gnome bones as his base because they're easy to get and because they make his creations conveniently pocket-sized. it's easier and safer for him to only make them big when necessary, with magic. for one thing it would require Significantly more material to make a full-scale creature, which is difficult to acquire and properly prepare. for another, they're much harder to control when big. obviously. if they were big all the time he'd never get anything done.

madog's basic components are gnome bones, manticore blood, and goblin jism. the manticore blood is where he gets his aggression and territoriality, and much of his strength when big. the goblin jism gives him the ability to think rationally and understand commands, and also the ability to work as part of a group. you'd never think it, but he's very good at teamwork. altogether he's a dedicated, completely loyal servant who'll take to tasks with vigor and gusto. good for a brute fighter to send out in times of trouble. he'd defend cadogan to the death. he also has manticore hair and imp wing membrane. these don't have any real effect on his personality or behavior, and are purely functional. the hair is to give him his fluffy appearance, the wing membrane is so he can fly.

myrddin's components are again, gnome bones, but also sea serpent's blood and troll jism. the sea serpent's blood attunes him to the water, giving him his hydrodynamic shape and skill at swimming. it's also given him patience and the instincts of a hunter that rarely feeds. he's not overly quick to action. the troll jism provides a greater intelligence than the goblin jism, closer to the level of a human. he is a much more rational thinker than madog, able to slow down and think fully through a problem rather than rush in to meet it. his secondary components are serpent fin and mermaid hair. these are almost entirely aesthetic, but the mermaid hair Does make him silky smooth to the touch and keeps wild animals from attempting to eat him.

and that's most of what i've thought out! before anyone asks, human bones + human blood + human jism would create an undead abomination and We Don't Do That. human blood and jism are alright to use but human bones are a taboo that crosses into necromancy. human wizards care less about the personhood of tailed species, so that's more okay (though it isn't really)

[greisekinderschar]

regarding book!dandelion’s much discussed misogyny one thing i find insanely amusing is how the gamer bro fanbase perceives it.

because to me, it’s like, supposed to be one of his weaknesses. it’s one of the ways in which he is unhinged that continuously gets him in trouble. yeah, there’s a joke here and there. but like. dudu thinks he can get away in dandelion’s form? nah man, the angry woman with the frying pan knocks you out, worst decision you made that day. he’s afraid he’ll get murdered if they go to toussaint. he survives the quest to end up on a scaffold because he couldn’t stop fucking around.

yet, when you see the dude bro “book stans’” reaction to the queer netflix reveal there are very personal grievances when they say “you made the womanizer gay!!!”. we know he’s not gay. he’s bi. he fucks more than twice the amount. but the fact that “the womanizer” would as much as look at a man somehow hurts these people in their masculinity, which reveals they think this part of him to be the cool, masculine part.

and it’s really funny to me, because i have this idea of sapkowski using bard characters (he does it in the hussite trilogy as well) to have some, dare i say it, subversive masculinities. because dandelion is very un-masculine in the context of the story. not only does he challenge the temerian knights and others by directly insulting their idea of masculinity and often ridicules the hierarchic structures he himself benefits from despite having fled the connected responsibilities. he’s not a fighter, he’s a poet, he’s not ‘hot���, he is pretty. he’s a coward, he is vain, he is bitchy, he is emotionally intelligent. he laments the gruesomeness of war that is nothing like the heroic masculine stories told about it. he is kind of the mum of the hansa. in short, he is very ‘feminine’, except for his womanizing and his misogynist moments (and the drinking). the parts of him that are, as i said, the most pathetic of his character. and yet, readers who are caught up in the structures of hegemonic masculinities perceive it as a way to consolidate his place in the hierarchy. in a way, his assholery is his redeeming quality in the masculine order. or at least that is what i believe, because why else would they have such an extreme reaction. if dandelion loses his one hegemonic masculine trait of putting himself above women by also sleeping with men, then he is not a man.

[i am aware the concept of masculinities has fluctuated massively in history, which is the point of hegemonic masculinities, and that medieval courtly masculinities had their own ‘feminized’ moments, with monks complaining about the knightly fashion making them look like vain women, but this is a fantasy saga that the reader perceives from contemporary standards, and the masculinities presented are very warrior-centered]

plus, i imagine it complicates his friendship with geralt. because they are bro bros, going to the BROthel together, sharing beds, kissing each other on the cheek for goodbye. if one of these bros is interested in dick, it makes emotional intimacy among men ~weird~. it makes the dude bros go “a bro cant have anything”. but bro, bro, you could have everything. you could even have a bite of dandelion.

[miaomiao42]

Warm Hands (Episode 1 and 2)

On a past expedition, my butlers and I encountered an intelligent angel. The direction from which that angel flew away. Go to the tower in the northwest to investigate. And on the way to the expedition. After a while on the cold mountain road... we decided to take a short rest to give the horses a rest.

(On the Way to the Ancient Tower)

I was just looking for a change of pace. I was taking a walk with Haures on a snowy road a short distance away from the carriage.

Haures: Fuu... As expected, it gets cold around here... Lord, are you cold?

You: I'm fine.

Haures: I see... If you are cold, please let me know right away.

Then an icy cold gust of wind blew from the front. 

You: Ugh...

Haures: Oh, Lord. Please bend over a little on the spot...

When I said that, Haures stood in front of me.... He made sure the wind didn't hit me.

Haures: Ugh...ugh... It's a cold wind...

You: Haures, are you okay?

Haures: Oh, I'm fine. Huh... The wind seems to have stopped.

You: Thank you for protecting me.

Haures: No... It's my role to protect the Lord.

Haures: Ugh... ugh...

You: Haures, you're shaking...

Haures: Well, uh... this is... Huh... I'm sorry... I've been trying to be patient... I'm not a cold weather person by nature...

You: Is that so?

Haures: I am sorry. This is not a good look.

You: You okay, Haures?

Haures: I'm okay. If I move my body this much, I will be fine. I was just thinking of training with a sword... I'll warm up a little until it's time to leave.

Saying this, Haures took up his sword and began to swing it.

-A few minutes later-

Haures: Hah...! Hah...! 

He said it was to warm up his body, but... As he struck out, Haures' expression was one of seriousness. 

You: You're very serious.

Haures: Yes. This expedition is in a cold region. The terrain and temperatures are completely different from the norm. So... I'm anticipating a battle here and checking my movements.

You: I see.

Haures: For example, even the way you step into the ground... You have to change it depending on the condition of the scaffold. Hard soil, soft soil, or snow... If you don't learn it with your body, you won't be able to fight when the time comes.

You: You've got a lot on your mind.

Haures: Yes... I don't want to overlook something and regret it. 

Haures: ...I'm sorry. I am sure this kind of talk is boring to the Lord. 

You: That's not true.

Haures: Heh, thank you very much. Well then, Lord. I'll continue my training a little longer.

-After a while-

Haures: Fuu... I knew I would get my feet caught in the snow when cutting in. As usual, I put weight on my feet... my feet sink more and more into the snow. I guess I should avoid fighting in places where it's snowing. But it will be colder near the tower... there might be more snow on the ground than here. Hmm... What if the scaffolding is all snow?

Haures is seriously contemplating the situation as he swings his head back and forth. The way he devotes himself to training while worrying... he is very dedicated.

Haures: ...Okay. With this way of swinging the sword, I can handle it.

As he continued his training, Haures' face grew more and more confident. When I see Haures... I also feel relieved for some reason. His mere presence gives a sense of security to those around him. This must be his quality as a leader. Is this so-called "charisma"? Usually, all the butlers.... I now understand why all the butlers are united around Haures.

Haures: Haaa...

Then suddenly a cold wind blew.... I involuntarily shrank back.

Haures: Lord...!? Are you okay? It looks like the wind has picked up... Would you like to return to the carriage? It'll probably be less cold than being outside.

You: I'm fine.

Haures: Eh...? Lord, but...

You: I'd like to watch Haures train.

Haures: My training? That's... a great honor... If this situation continues, the Lord may catch a cold.

Haures: Hmm... Oh, that's right... If that's the case, Lord... Could you please wait here for a moment? I'll be right back.

You: Uh, yeah...

With that, Haures ran to the carriage. Then he came back with some kind of luggage.

Haures: Sorry to keep you waiting, Lord.

You: Haures, what's that?

Haures: It's a thick blanket. I loaded it up just in case we had to go on an expedition to a cold region. Here you go, Lord. Please use this one.

I took the blanket from Haures and draped it over my shoulders.

You: Thank you.   |     It's so warm...

Haures: I think this will keep the cold out. Oh, and also... you can also try this scarf.

You: Scarf? 

Haures: The Lord's neck looked cold.... I brought my scarf along, too. Would you like to use this one as well, if you like? 

You: Are you sure...? 

Haures: Of course. Please use it. 

You: Thank you, Haures. 

Haures: I'm honored to be of service to you, Lord. Well, Lord. I will put the scarf around your neck.

With that, Haures put a scarf around my neck. The scarf has a faint scent of Haures. It's a very calming scent.

Haures: Um, Lord... May I have a word?

You: Eh?

Then Haures stared at me in the face. Haures' face is close to mine, and I can't help but tense up.

You: W-What's wrong?

Haures: Your cheeks have turned a little red. It must be because of this cold weather. Are you okay?

You: I think I'll be fine...  |   There's nothing wrong though...

Haures: I-I see. But so much redness... I am worried. It would be terrible if you got chilblains. Hmm... I'll have to warm it up somehow... But there's nothing like that anywhere... 

Haures: Ah, that's right! Ah, my Lord... Just for a moment... Excuse me.

Haures then reached out his hand.... he gently touched my cheek.

You: H-Haures!? 

Haures: How do you like my hands? I think it's warm...

Haures' hand on my cheek was indeed warm. 

You: Oh, it's warm...

Haures: I was physically active earlier.... I'm also warming up a lot. Um... If it bothers you, please tell me right away. I will take my hand off immediately...

You: Rather, thank you.  |  It's not a nuisance.

Haures: That's good to hear. Even so... your cheeks have really gotten cold. I'm sorry. I wish I'd realized this sooner...

You: Haures didn't do anything wrong at all.

Haures: I'm sorry...

Haures has an apologetic look on his face.

Haures: I should have been more careful and prepared a variety of warm clothing. I am disqualified as a butler. 

You: Don't blame yourself so much... |  It's okay, Haures.

???: Hey, Lord. Where are you?

You: !?  |  T-This voice...! 

Boschi: Oh, there you are. Where have you been... hmm?

Haures: B-Boschi...!

Boschi: Oi oi, Haures. You are indeed too close to the Lord, aren't you? Putting your hand on their cheek.

Haures: Th-This... No, this is different...! Because the Lord's cheeks were red from this cold... I got worried and ended up...

You: Yes, that's right, Boschi!

Haures: Oh, Lord...please excuse me.

Haures then gently removed his hand from my cheek.

Boschi: I see. Because you got worried.... It's just that... Even if you are worried... I wonder if it's appropriate for a butler to put his hand on someone's cheek〜

Haures: S-Sorry. I may have been a little excited to be alone with the Lord.

Boschi: You don't have to apologize to me. You didn't do anything bad to the Lord, did you?

Haures: N-No, I would never do that.

You: I'd rather have Haures do it for me... 

Boschi: I see... Then I think that's fine. 

Haures: Boschi...

Boschi: Well, I was lucky to see something interesting. That earnest Haures... How dare he do something like that to his Lord... 

Haures: D-Don't tease me... Don't tell the other butlers.

Boschi: I guess it depends on... your attitude. Well then, Lord. I had some business to attend to, but I'll call on you later.

You: Uh, yeah...  |  Understood.

Boschi: See you, Haures.

Thud... Thud... Thud... 

You: He's gone.

Haures: I-I never thought that Boschi would see me.... I-I'm sorry, Lord. I got carried away and touched your cheek earlier.

You: Don't worry about it.

Haures: Hah.... I suddenly felt a sense of embarrassment.... I'm just a butler... What am I really doing...?

Haures' cheeks were flushed red and he looked embarrassed. When I saw that expression... Combined with the contrast with his usual dignified self, he seemed very endearing.

You: Haures, your cheeks are red.

Haures: Eh...? 

You: Shall I warm you up with my hands?

Haures: Ah, my Lord....!?

Haures: P-Please don't make fun of me....

As he said that... Haures smiled and blushed again.

Haures: Now, my Lord. It's time to go back to where everyone is. I'll walk ahead of you. Please watch your step.

You: Yes.  |  Thank you, Haures.

Haures: No, no. Let's go.

Then I started walking behind Haures. With his scarf wrapped around my neck...

-THE END-

[materialsscienceandengineering]

DNA scaffolds enable self-assembling 3D electronic devices

Researchers at Columbia Engineering have for the first time used DNA to help create 3D electronically operational devices with nanometer-size features. "Going from 2D to 3D can dramatically increase the density and computing power of electronics," said corresponding author Oleg Gang, professor of chemical engineering and of applied physics and materials science at Columbia Engineering and leader of the Center for Functional Nanomaterials' Soft and Bio Nanomaterials Group at Brookhaven National Laboratory. The new manufacturing technique could also contribute to the ongoing effort to develop AI systems that are directly inspired by natural intelligence.

Read more.

[alvie-pines]

This is my personal ranking on Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian's ability to beat each other in a fight. No prep, no environmental objects or hiding places, melee tournament style. Think Battle Nexus from TMNT. All are 20 years old, because as talented as Damian is, I still think being 13 is a significant combat disadvantage when unarmed.

ARMED COMBAT

Dick uses his escrima. Jason uses guns. Tim uses his bo staff. Damian uses his sword. Any may bring other items into the arena if they choose.

DICK -> beats Tim

JASON -> beats Tim, Damian, Dick

TIM -> beats no one

DAMIAN -> beats Tim, perhaps Dick

Jason

Damian

Dick

Tim

Under what conditions would Dick rank first? An aerial environment catering to his specific skillset as an acrobat. Something like scaffolding at a construction site, or an arena intentionally designed to test and favor acrobatics.

Under what conditions would Tim rank first? With significant prep time. Tim is the most intelligent detective out of all the Robins; with enough prep time, he could devise a way to incapacitate his brothers.

Under what conditions would Damian rank first? In an ambush, or an environment with many shapes and objects that he could utilize. Damian's strength is in his training as an assassin, and I believe that if he got the drop on his brothers and/or fought them in his preferred environment, he could definitely beat them all.

UNARMED COMBAT

DICK -> beats Jason, Tim, Damian

JASON -> beats Tim, tied with Damian

TIM -> beats no one

DAMIAN -> beats Tim, tied with Jason

Dick

Jason, Damian

Tim

Under what conditions would Jason rank first? Honestly, I don't know. I think Jason's biggest advantage against his brothers is his choice of a powerful and potentially lethal weapon. He is definitely skilled in hand-to-hand combat, as all Robins are, but I think Dick is more skilled in this area, and Damian his equal.

Under what conditions would Tim rank first? Just like armed combat, the key is prep time. Though being stripped of weapons and tools would make things more difficult for him, I think enough prep time could result in a win.

Under what conditions would Damian rank first? Again, an environment catering to his skills as an assassin. An arena that allows for ambushes and stealth.

[mtseng-art]

Anora, Ani

*Spoilers ahead*

This is my acrylic study of a film still from that one scene in Sean Baker's Anora. I connected deeply with Anora, especially her relentless fight for a happy ending fueled by hopeless optimism. I read somewhere that “she wears her nudity like armor,” and throughout the film, as she puts on more clothes, she paradoxically becomes more vulnerable. This armor, embodied in her persona as Ani, disintegrates through Igor’s love, allowing her to become Anora.

Watching her transformation made me reflect on my own armor—the roles and identities I’ve constructed to survive. While Anora’s struggle is personal, it echoes something larger: the ways we all shape ourselves to fit into systems never designed with our humanity in mind.

In late-stage capitalism and a culture rooted in severe individualism, no one truly fits the roles we've been assigned. I’ve seen it firsthand—friends and family feeling both overqualified and underqualified for their jobs, tangled in guilt either way. Why? Because we’ve been conditioned to believe our worth—our intelligence, even our inherent goodness—is measured by societal and monetary success. The illusion of meritocracy in America was a hard pill to swallow, especially as an Asian American raised to believe that if POC just worked harder, we'd 'earn' our place. Realizing that this isn’t true felt like losing a compass. I’d spent years constructing an armor—a socially acceptable role and image designed to ensure survival, acceptance, and love. That armor felt precious because it was my proof that I’d done the work, that I was ‘fit,’ that I was worthy. Letting go of it feels like erasing the evidence of my struggle and effort.

My identity has been shaped by what I produce and how I perform. Maybe that’s the heart of it: the armor feels precious because it’s been the scaffolding of my worth in a system designed to convince me I had to earn it. And if I take it off, what’s left?

I think that’s why that scene in Anora overwhelmed me into tears. It held the exact weight of the fear and the desire—to be seen, to be loved—not for the armor, but for what’s left when it’s gone.

[xichilie]

Two sides of a Gem (part12)

Aventurine x (stoneheart)reader

Part11

The Dreamscape shifted again, the sandy winds of Sigonia dissolving into sterile white walls and the faint hum of machines. The stark brightness of the lab contrasted harshly with the surreal haze of their previous surroundings. Aventurine let out a low whistle as he adjusted his collar, eyes scanning the cold, pristine space.

“Well, sweetheart—” He paused, catching Y/N’s glance and correcting himself. “Y/N, this is a charming little place. Very clinical. Let me guess… another one of your childhood memories?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her crimson eyes scanned the room with a mix of familiarity and unease. “Yeah… this is where my brother worked.”

Aventurine’s brows raised slightly as he strolled further in, hands in his pockets. “Michael Laurent, huh? I’ve heard the name before—genius researcher, some crazy theories about consciousness and artificial intelligence. You’re telling me this was his playground?”

Y/N nodded, her steps hesitant as she followed Aventurine deeper into the lab. Workstations filled with scattered tools and data pads were frozen in time, glowing monitors displaying indecipherable graphs and schematics. There were containment units on the far wall, some empty, others covered with opaque glass.

Aventurine stopped at one of the consoles, leaning in to examine a display. A few lines of text flickered across the screen:

“Prototype-7A: Cognitive Adaptation Status — ACTIVE. Neural Mapping: COMPLETE. Emotional Responses: STABLE.”

Aventurine frowned. “‘Prototype-7A.’ Sounds like a… pet project. Your brother’s?”

Y/N hesitated before answering, her arms wrapping around herself. “You could say that.”

Aventurine glanced back at her, catching the flicker of discomfort on her face. His sharp mind was already piecing things together, but he didn’t push—yet. Instead, he turned back toward the far side of the lab, where a platform bathed in soft white light stood, covered partially by metallic scaffolding and wires.

“Y’know, sweetheart—” Aventurine caught himself again with a faint smirk. “Sorry. Y/N. This place doesn’t exactly scream fun childhood memories.”

Y/N’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It wasn’t. Not after Michael…” She trailed off, her voice fading into a whisper.

Aventurine’s eyes softened briefly, but before he could respond, something caught his attention. His gaze snapped to the platform in the center of the lab. Through the metallic gaps, he could make out the faint silhouette of someone—or something.

Slowly, he stepped closer, his boots echoing against the cold floor. Y/N stayed rooted in place, her body tense as if preparing for something inevitable.

"Aventurine...wait ... you shouldn't..." her voice trailed off.

And then Aventurine froze.

Suspended in reinforced clamps, lifeless yet hauntingly familiar, was Ruby. His face was serene, eyes closed, and his body eerily still. Wires were attached to various points along his arms, legs, and head. His appearance was pristine, mechanical perfection crafted with almost obsessive attention to detail.

Aventurine’s breath hitched slightly. “What… the hell?”

His voice cracked through the silence, and Y/N flinched slightly. Aventurine turned toward her, eyes wide, disbelief etched into every feature.

“This is… Ruby. Isn’t it? What is this, Y/N?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “That’s… him. Or rather, that’s what he used to be.”

Aventurine ran a hand through his hair, pacing in a small circle. “No, no. Hold on. He’s—he’s a machine? Like, a robot? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Y/N winced. “Not a robot. A puppet. There’s a difference.”

Aventurine pointed at the suspended form of Ruby, his voice sharp. “That’s not just a puppet, Y/N. That’s a person. Or at least… he acts like one. He thinks, he reacts, he gets annoyed at me, and—” Aventurine stopped himself, his breathing uneven. “How? How does that even happen?”

Y/N took a step closer, her voice steadying slightly. “Michael created him. With his team. Prototype-7A was supposed to be a weapon...but he turned out to be more like the pinnacle of artificial consciousness—something that could think, adapt, and even feel. But he wasn’t finished. Michael died before he could understand him fully.”

Aventurine’s head was spinning. His sharp mind was catching every detail, but the weight of the reveal left him slightly unsteady. “And yet… Ruby’s here. With us. He’s part of the Stonehearts. He’s not supposed to—”

Y/N cut him off softly. “Because he’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to exist like this. But he does.”

Aventurine’s cyan-magenta gaze locked onto her crimson eyes, sharp and calculating. “Then how did he become a Stoneheart, Y/N? Because I’m starting to think he isn’t the real one here. diamond wouldn't just allow an unpredictable puppet to take this position unless....”

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Y/N opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Aventurine stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Y/N. Are you the real Ruby?”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and for a brief moment, she looked impossibly tired. “…Yes.”

Aventurine took a step back, letting out a low exhale. His head tilted slightly as he processed everything. “And "Ruby"… he’s standing in for you. So you can run around in the shadows while he takes the heat.”

Y/N nodded silently.

Aventurine let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Well, damn. That explains a lot.”

They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the faint hum of the lab’s machinery. Aventurine finally spoke again, softer this time.

“Does he know? About… everything?”

Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes. And he accepts it.”

Aventurine studied her carefully for a moment, then let out a faint sigh. “Alright, Y/N. You’ve answered enough—for now.” He glanced back at the suspended form of Ruby. “But we’re not done talking about this.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her crimson eyes dimming slightly as she turned her gaze away.

The Dreamscape began to shift again, the lab dissolving into fragments of light and shadow. Aventurine gave one last glance at Ruby—before following Y/N into the next memory.

The sterile white of the lab returned, cold and unforgiving, but now there was a heavy tension in the air—a sense of dread hanging like a storm cloud.

Aventurine glanced at Y/N, whose face had gone pale as recognition set in. Her fists clenched tightly by her sides, and her eyes darted nervously to the figures forming in the memory. Aventurine remained silent, his sharp gaze following every detail with an unsettling intensity.

The faint hum of machinery filled the air, and fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow on the polished floors. In the center of the memory stood Y/N—small, fragile, clutching a stuffed cat toy so tightly it seemed it might tear apart. Her face was streaked with tears, her shoulders trembling under the weight of grief and fear.

Her brother Michael was gone. The lab felt emptier now, colder without his presence.

Two IPC guards flanked Dr. Finch, whose sharp, narrow face was twisted into an expression of irritation and impatience. His coat flared slightly as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

“Y/N Laurent, this laboratory is no longer your home. Your brother is gone, and without him, you are just a child occupying valuable space. The IPC has arranged for you to be placed in an orphanage.”

“No…” Y/N’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “No, I can’t leave. Please… I’ll help! I’ll clean the equipment, I’ll—”

“Enough!” Finch’s voice snapped like a whip. “You are not needed here, girl. You serve no purpose. Obey, and come quietly.”

The IPC guards stepped forward, heavy boots clanging on the metallic floor as they reached out to grab her. Y/N stumbled back, clutching her stuffed cat to her chest.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.

One of the guards grabbed her arm, pulling her forward roughly. Y/N struggled, her small frame trembling as she tried to wrench herself free.

It was then that Aventurine noticed it—the faint hum from across the room. His sharp eyes snapped to the side, locking onto the familiar figure standing on the central platform.

Prototype-7A was no longer motionless. His head was tilted downward, his sharp crimson eyes glowing faintly. His hands, usually relaxed at his sides, were clenched into tight fists.

“Release her.”

The voice was steady, low—but something about it felt alive. It wasn’t just programming. There was intent behind it.

The guards froze, glancing back at Dr. Finch for instruction. Finch’s face twisted into shock and anger as he barked, “Prototype-7A, stand down! That is a direct order!”

But the puppet did not move. His glowing red eyes remained locked on the guard holding

Y/N.

One of the guards reached for his weapon. “It’s malfunctioning! Restrain it!”

The moment the guard’s hand brushed the holster, Prototype-7A moved.

In a flash, he was off the platform. His landing was almost soundless, but the force of it caused a ripple through the floor. Before the guard could draw his weapon, Prototype-7A’s hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it with calculated precision. The weapon clattered to the ground.

The second guard lunged at him, but Elias—*because that’s who he was to Y/N, not a prototype, not a tool—*sidestepped with inhuman speed. His arm shot forward, palm flat, striking the guard in the chest. The man flew backward, gasping for breath as he hit the floor hard.

Dr. Finch was panicking now. His sharp voice wavered as he barked, “Security override, engage emergency defense systems!”

Alarms blared overhead. Panels in the ceiling slid open, mechanical drones descending with targeting systems locking onto Elias. Turrets emerged from the corners, their barrels spinning to life with ominous clicks.

“No!” Y/N’s voice broke through the chaos, raw and desperate. “Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

But Elias wasn’t stopping. His red eyes glowed brighter as the first drone fired a burst of electricity. Elias twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike, and grabbed a nearby metal rod. With a powerful throw, he impaled the drone mid-air, sending sparks and broken parts scattering across the lab floor.

The turrets roared to life next, bullets tearing through the air. Elias moved in a blur, weaving between the shots. He leapt onto one of the turrets, his hands gripping the barrel tightly. With sheer strength, he bent it out of shape, disabling it. The second turret spun to track him, but Elias hurled the broken barrel with precision, smashing the firing mechanism and silencing it.

Dr. Finch stumbled back, his pale face slick with sweat. “This… This isn’t possible… He’s disobeying orders!”

Amid the chaos and the acrid scent of burning metal, Elias turned away from the destruction and walked back toward Y/N. His crimson eyes dimmed slightly as they focused on her tear-streaked face.

He knelt down, carefully lowering himself to her eye level. His voice, though steady, softened.

“You are not alone, Y/N. I will not let them take you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she reached out, her small fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was soft, warm—not the cold, unyielding metal one might expect from a puppet.

Dr. Finch stood frozen, his expression unreadable as he stared at the scene before him.

Aventurine watched the memory play out, his smirk long gone, replaced with something far more fragile—something raw and uncertain. His magenta-cyan eyes reflected the red glow from Elias’ gaze as the Memory continues

The lab was in chaos. Broken equipment sparked in the dim lighting, security alarms blared overhead, and the acrid scent of burning circuits filled the air. Elias stood protectively in front of Y/N, his glowing crimson eyes locked onto Dr. Finch, who was frantically typing into a shattered console.

“Override! Activate containment protocol!” Finch’s voice cracked with frustration and fear as the unresponsive screen flickered with static.

But before he could slam his fist against the controls, a loud bang rang out. Sparks flew as a bullet struck the console, disabling it completely.

In the doorway stood a young woman with sharp green eyes and auburn hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her lab coat was stained with oil and faint streaks of blood, and her hand shook slightly as she lowered the smoking sidearm.

“Enough, Finch,” she said firmly, her voice tight with emotion.

Dr. Finch turned on her with wild eyes. “Liana! Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

Liana ignored him, stepping carefully over the shattered glass and debris. She clutched a worn backpack in one hand as she approached Y/N and Elias.

Kneeling before Y/N, she unzipped the bag, revealing neatly packed supplies: food rations, water, a first aid kit,

a small datapad and some personal belongings.

“This bag has everything you’ll need,” Liana said softly, her voice steady despite the quiver in her lips. Her green eyes met Y/N’s tearful gaze. “You have to leave, sweetheart. You can’t stay here anymore.”

Y/N clutched the backpack tightly, her small shoulders trembling. “But… what about you, Liana? And the lab? What about Elias?”

Liana’s face softened into a bittersweet smile as she brushed a lock of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re safe. And Elias… he was never meant to be a tool. You showed us that.”

She turned to Elias, her voice firm but kind. “Protect her, Elias. Keep her safe. You hear me?”

Elias’s crimson eyes flickered, and he gave a slow nod. “Understood.”

Finch’s furious voice cut through the moment like a knife. “You traitor! You’re throwing away everything for her? For a child and a glorified puppet?”

Liana’s expression hardened, and she turned to face him. “She’s more than just a child. And he’s more than a puppet. You never understood that, Finch.”

Y/N hesitated for just a moment before stepping toward the main data center. Her small hands fumbled in her pocket until she pulled out a metallic USB drive. The initials M.L.—Michael Laurent—were etched onto its surface.

With a deep breath, she inserted it into the main data terminal.

The screen flared to life as lines of code flooded the interface, warning symbols flashing red across every panel.

DELETE ALL DATA.

“No!” Finch lunged forward, but Elias was faster. In a blur of motion, he stepped between Finch and Y/N, his piercing crimson eyes glowing brighter.

“Step. Back.”

Finch froze mid-step, staring into Elias’s unwavering gaze. For a moment, it felt like the entire lab was holding its breath.

The terminal continued to process the deletion. Years of research—Michael’s brilliance,

everything stored within those servers—was disappearing, line by line.

Liana let out a shaky breath, nodding sharply. “It’s done. Now go. The Astral Express is waiting for you at the port. I made sure of it.”

Y/N clutched the backpack tightly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Thank you, Liana…”

Liana smiled softly, cupping

Y/N’s face one last time. “Be brave, little one. And… don’t forget us, okay?”

Finch let out a strangled sound, lunging toward the emergency override panel at the far side of the room. But Elias stepped in front of him again, his movements sharp and deliberate.

“You will not touch her.”

The crimson light from Elias’s eyes illuminated Finch’s terrified expression, freezing him in place.

Liana backed toward the lab’s entrance, her gaze lingering on Y/N and Elias. “Go now. You don’t have much time.”

Elias gently took Y/N’s hand, his touch firm but careful. As they turned toward the exit, Y/N looked back one last time.

Liana stood silhouetted in the flickering lights of the broken monitors, her expression resolute despite the chaos around her.

“Goodbye, Y/N. Goodbye, Elias.”

With that final farewell, Y/N and Elias disappeared into the labyrinthine corridors of the lab, alarms blaring behind them.

The memory faded, dissolving into mist as the dreamscape reasserted itself.

Aventurine stood frozen in place, his vibrant magenta-cyan eyes wide with shock. The usual sharpness in his gaze was replaced with something raw and uncertain.

He looked over at Y/N who stood there motionless. Pain and sorrow written all over her face, He wanted to reach out ...but he couldn't...he didn't know how...He began being Ruby in a different light.. this is nothing like the calculated and stoic man he knew.

Y/N took a breath and simpli began walking out of the Memory, Aventurine followed suit, neither of them said anything as they made their way through the long dark corridor or the Memory Zone. Aventurine had a lot of questions.... but he knew now wasn't the time, not like this....

[prince-liest]

Yo, I'm writing a pre canon fic in which young fanboy Vox gets assigned as Alastor's assistant by Lilith, any tips for characterising him?

I think you have a lot of room for leeway and playing around since you're working with pre-canon, but the main points that I tend to at least personally keep around as a scaffold for writing Vox are:

He's got a Charisma modifier of, like, +4. This doesn't mean he's always suave - in fact, he's pretty pathetic around Alastor in particular! But he knows how to put on a performance that appeals to his intended audience, whether that be a customer base whose trust he's winning over, or a fellow Vee that he's trying to wrangle into behaving. He switches between ridiculous showmanship and collected CEO, and this works for him despite both personas being rife with overcompensation.

Every single one of the Vees including Vox thinks they're the only normal, reasonably-behaving person in the room, it's wild.

He's smart, he's capable, he's manipulative. He's good at knowing what people want and how to leverage that to sell them those things. The general population thinks he's #goals thanks to the image he puts forth.

He's a piece of shit that has no qualms with Valentino's behavior with Angel Dust, Velvette selling date rape drugs, or abusing his own hypnosis ability to manipulate people into buying his products (which include spyware literally advertised to voyeurs). This is part of the fun of this character!!

I think he has a lot of very fun physicality to him (as do most of the Hazbin Hotel characters), and I really recommend re-watching some of his scenes to get the hang of how he moves and interacts with people physically because you'd be surprised at how much that can add to characterization even in a non-visual format like writing.

...I also genuinely think he's kind of a horny bastard, to whatever extent and rating your story could even use that, but that's me extrapolating from his behavior around both Alastor and Valentino. It's just a fun cherry on top of the "low impulse control around Alastor" thing, because he's got so much going for him on the intelligence front that it's really funny to me when he tangibly switches to thinking with his dick.

And, of course, on the subject of Alastor in particular:

He's obsessive, and Alastor makes all of his impulse control go out the window. I started using the "Vox's One-sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)" tag for a reason, and it's that I think it's in fact really funny how much evidence we get in canon that Vox doesn't just hate Alastor and want to dominate him, he'd also probably roll right over into the affectionately wheedling persona he uses with Valentino if Alastor suggested he'd take it well.

We don't just see Vox wanting Alastor dead, we also see Alastor telling us that Vox first asked him to join him; the torn-in-half photo of them standing together; and Vox pretty much popping a boner over Alastor getting wrecked by Adam, nevermind how manically he jumps around to get a word in before Alastor even shows his face during Stayed Gone. Even his little "Fu-uu-uuuuuck!" at the end of the song is like 50% actual despair and 50% :pleading: emoji. He wants Alastor, obviously, and I think a lot of the anger that he's projecting at Alastor in canon is specifically anger at being rejected, which is frantically covering up the fact that he is still desperately, embarrassingly into the radio deer. If Alastor won't join him, Vox has to beat him.

Anyway, I love this funky little TV. This was by no means a comprehensive guide or anything like that, but I hope it helped share at least some of my personal thoughts on writing him!

[the-most-humble-blog]

⚔️ The Mind Behind the Flame

Keep calling me names. I’ll keep making your role models wet. 📸🦁

Welcome to the mental perimeter breach zone of the-most-humble-blog.

If you’re here, you’ve either:

Survived one of my posts,

Reblogged it in rage hoping someone else would call me a monster,

Or you’re one of those rare few with enough cognitive muscle to recognize a pattern of truth when it slaps your ideology across the face.

Either way: You're here. You're reading. And that means the trap worked. 🧠🐺

🧠 Who Runs This Blog?

Call me Mr. Humble. Not because I’m meek — but because I let my words slaughter politely.

I’m a former military leader, multi-degree academic, global observer, and cultural analyst with no allegiance to fragile narratives.

I’ve led men. I’ve mentored women. I’ve been across borders, across belief systems, and across the battlefield of modern manhood.

I’ve seen the psychological fallout of cultural regression. I’ve seen how truth, logic, and masculinity are now treated like viruses. I’ve seen brilliant men go silent out of fear. I’ve seen mediocre minds weaponize pity for power.

And I said: No more.

This blog is what happens when a highly aware mind gets tired of pretending it's confused.

💥 What This Blog Is

A digital guillotine for mainstream delusion.

A satirical steel boot stomping down on ideological cowardice.

A home for those who outgrew emotional clickbait and can handle words that hit like a brick of truth to the face.

❌ What This Blog Is NOT

A hug box

A gender circle-jerk

A virtue-signaling farm

A safe space for bad ideas

An apology tour

Or a place to earn internet forgiveness for having a spine

If you’re looking for an “ally,” go outside and ally yourself with a blade of grass. This blog is for mental adults only.

🧠 My IQ Isn’t the Point — It’s What I Do With It

Plenty of people are “smart.” Few know how to use that intelligence like a scalpel and a molotov at the same time.

I don’t flex academic degrees. I flex consequence-based thinking.

I don’t cite studies unless they cut cleanly through your fantasy. I don’t “debate.” I perform intellectual amputations and meme the remains.

👁️ Why I Write Like This

Because truth doesn’t beg. It burns. It ruins dinner parties. It kills weak conversations. It shakes entire identity scaffolds.

Because feminism stopped being about equality years ago. Because men are bleeding in silence while the world tells them to “man up” and “shut up.”

Because emotional blackmail dressed as activism needs to be mocked into extinction. Because if I don’t say it, 10,000 men will keep swallowing their rage while pretending they’re fine.

This blog is their voice — said with the volume, venom, and verbal finesse they were taught to suppress.

🛑 Rules of Engagement

You are welcome here if you:

Think critically

Laugh at chaos

Can handle full sentences

Don’t confuse discomfort with harm

You are NOT welcome if you:

Use “-phobic�� every time you feel wrong

Think tone is violence

Confuse identity with immunity

Start sentences with “as a…” and expect reverence

Believe truth is whatever makes you cry the least

⚖️ LEGAL: I’m Protected. You’re Just Loud.

All content is protected under U.S. free speech law, academic commentary, and satirical cultural criticism doctrine. You don’t have to like it — but you can’t do a damn thing about it. Want me banned? Try harder. Want me silenced? Bring facts, not feelings. Until then? You are just another screenshot waiting to happen.

🧠 If You’re Still Reading… Congrats.

You have enough awareness to realize:

Not everything that offends you is dangerous.Not everything that comforts you is true.

That makes you rare. And if you’re smart enough to get this far, dangerous.

Welcome to the tribe. 🦁

💣 TL;DR (For the ADHD-crippled)

Smart. Brutal. Free. Don’t like it? There’s the block button. The algorithm still remembers me.

🔗 You just read the mind. Now pick your side.

Share it. Bookmark it. Or block it.

🧠 Truth doesn’t beg. It burns.

[jungkoode]

Hello! Fellow ARMY here—and a neuropsychiatrist as well!

First of all, I just want to say I absolutely adore the way you write—your storytelling is sharp, immersive, and emotionally intelligent in a way that’s honestly rare.

But I actually came here to praise your post about ADHD and motivation. As someone who works in both neurology and psychiatry, I just wanted to validate how clinically accurate and self-aware it is. You articulated the dopamine/reward dysfunction in ADHD better than half the textbooks out there, and your explanation of why external feedback matters? Spot on. That’s not attention-seeking. That’s literally neurochemical reality.

What you’re doing—building external reinforcement systems, setting hard boundaries, naming your needs without apology—that’s exactly what responsible mental health management looks like. It’s not dramatic. It’s informed. And I wish more people understood that.

Anyway—just wanted to drop in and say, you’re not just helping yourself with that post. You’re educating others and destigmatizing neurodivergence with clarity and grace. Keep doing what you do. Your brain is not broken—it’s brilliant.

Oh my god wait… HELLO??? Not just a fellow ARMY but a neuropsychiatrist??? I’m going to need a moment to sit down and cry gently in the corner while rereading this six more times.

Seriously—thank you. This means so much to me, especially coming from someone with your background and clinical insight. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like I had to explain or defend how my brain works, and getting that kind of validation—especially about the dopamine/reward loop stuff—is so deeply affirming I don’t even have words (and I usually have so many words).

Also… confession: I’m a giant psych nerd myself. Like… my therapy sessions are 40% emotional processing, 60% me asking my therapist to clarify her framework mid-analysis so I can journal about it later. I literally go in with metaphors and trauma flowcharts. I was diagnosed in my early 20s and since then it’s been this huge “OH. That’s why everything felt impossible” revelation every few months. And I think it’s become really important to me to articulate the why of what I need—not to justify it, but because we’ve been conditioned to see neurodivergence as inconvenience instead of reality.

So yeah—if I’m building scaffolding, naming systems, setting boundaries, and asking people to meet me halfway? That’s not me being “high maintenance,” that’s me building my own accessibility tools in real time!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you for seeing that. For naming it. For letting me know it landed the way I hoped it would. I hope you know how much this means. 🫶🏻💞

[stillalivedcingscience]

Still kind of really love this part of Target Acquired Ch. 9 where GLaDOS is remembering the insanity she felt while being trapped inside the potato battery:

And at first, the images she saw inside her mind were innocent, devoid of any ulterior expressions of emotional pain. At first, they’d just been vague flashes of things she didn’t even know were memories of the secret box located deep inside of her mind. Those people in the portrait. They looked so… familiar. And then, it was the same office, the very same one, but without the yellowing wall panels, the frayed and moth-eaten furniture. It was a mahogany desk overladen with freshly printed papers of a scientific thesis she’d never even cared about, titled ‘Computing Machinery and Intelligence’. And a partially dismantled sentry turret, with exposed multicoloured wires hanging down its side while its Fire/No Fire Incident Resolution Chip and Empathy Suppressor Chip were both missing entirely. Tarot cards littered the desk, one upside down, which displayed a woman who looked very much like Caroline herself. She angrily swept these up and deposited them within a mahogany desk drawer.

A few bars of the song Eastbound and Down circled around and around in her potato head like a carousel’s theme, fading in and out like a broken gramophone. A very expensive-looking brass coffee machine hissed and sputtered steam from atop a stationary scaffold transformed into a makeshift countertop. An old-fashioned television set sat with a bent, duct-taped areal antenna, displaying an image of an asteroid-imprisoned man crying over a humanoid, brown-haired robot with her face half melted off, which cut to a skipping, lined image of the badly-tracked end title screen for The Twilight Zone.

i just think the insanity was captured brilliantly that is all

[popatochisssp]

OMG all the new boys are fascinating but ummm Swapfell Fruition especially?? Sounds so good?? I would love a full lore dump on this concept, I love the idea of Vi playing the long con to get rid of Gaster and it all sounds so good. Incidentally I need to read Dirty Laundry again lol, everything you make with regards to any version of Swapfell is just *chef's kiss*

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Swapfell Fruition

A young Sans’ attempt to kill his creator, the Royal Scientist is a failure.

Gaster survives the scuffle that would’ve toppled him off of the CORE’s scaffolding and gains the upper hand, subduing his traitorous creation and forcing him—and the younger one he’d been trying to escape with—back to his labs.

Sans was reckless, tipped his hand too soon and without the luck to have succeeded on the first attempt, Gaster learns that he is a sneaky little backstabber, capable of appearing obedient but hiding ruthless intentions.

He's almost proud… but of course he can't have that.

It becomes clear to the Royal Scientist that obviously, he needs his creations to have some kind of failsafe. The little one hasn't shown any signs of disobedience yet, but his primary caretaker is a crafty little snake, no telling what he could influence him to do, if given the time or the chance—so it’s back to the drawing board, to the operating table with them both.

Papyrus, at his age, doesn't really know what happens to him, only that whatever was done to him hurt, a lot. He wakes up after in the room he’d shared with his brother, scared and hurting and alone, and when Sans finally reappears, he goes to him for a hug.

Except…

Sans doesn’t hug him back.

He doesn’t hug back, and he doesn’t say anything, no matter how much Papyrus begs him to…

And the next time Gaster summons them to the lab, it’s Sans who picks him up and keeps him from squirming away, holding his arm out for Gaster’s needles.

Papyrus doesn’t understand the betrayal, at the time or in the years that follow.

His hurt turns to bitterness and resentment as his once gentle and protective big brother starts to actively help their creator change him, gradually shaping him into a stronger, more efficient killer.

But even with all the modification and training he’s subjected to, Papyrus isn’t quite the solider or war machine Gaster had planned he would be—he spooks when caught by surprise, he’s easily distracted by irrelevant things, his loyalties twist and sway far too easily for Gaster’s liking…

Well, the Royal Scientist is nothing if not resourceful, certainly able to work with…limited materials and still produce something of use.

With the right mental conditioning, and the right handler to make use of it, Papyrus will still be a valuable asset for the Empress.

After all, there’s always political enemies to the crown that her highness would surely prefer to have…removed, discreetly, and other such dirty work best done in the shadows.

Fast and stealthy, like an assassin, seems more suited to Papyrus’ abilities anyway.

And as for a handler, who better than Sans to fill the role?

Gaster’s prototype was largely a failure, but certainly intelligent and organized, presumably capable of researching and observing targets, briefing the asset on situations and targets and memorizing the trigger words and phrases necessary to keep him operating at peak efficiency.

Sans doesn’t protest.

He doesn’t protest much of anything anymore, not since…

………

Well, it’s not like he’s ever spoken about what happened when everything changed, not even to Papyrus, so when he goes along with this too, neither Gaster nor Papyrus expects otherwise.

So, that’s how it is.

Papyrus becomes the perfect assassin and Sans doles out his marching orders, occasionally following behind on missions to jerk his leash and keep him on track.

Between them, it’s…complicated.

Sans is still Papyrus’ brother, the closest thing to an ally that Papyrus has, both of them stuck in service to a power-hungry, unethical prick.

There are moments where they’re okay, times where a joke will slip out and one of them will laugh, injuries tended to, backs watched under fire, and dozens more little things that just wouldn’t happen if they were nothing to each other.

But the moments never last long.

Reality always comes back in sooner or later—usually in the form of Gaster, demanding an update or issuing new orders or calling them back from the field, to which Sans always, always complies.

Papyrus takes it as a reminder of where Sans’ real loyalties must lie.

He’s some kind of brother, not always awful, and maybe he does care about Papyrus, a little bit, but he answers to Gaster above anything or anyone else, apparently by choice.

He can’t be trusted, not really.

And Sans…

Sans stays quiet and does his job.

Quickly, efficiently, and to the letter—exemplary service, always.

Irreproachable.

He’s almost completely beneath suspicion by the time the last human falls into the Underground.

Gaster couldn’t be more thrilled.

This is a golden opportunity, the perfect chance to prove his worth to the Empress and earn clout and accolades innumerable—to be the one responsible for capturing the seventh soul and freeing all of monsterkind from their centuries of imprisonment and allowing the war against humanity to finally begin!

Well, technically, it would be his creations doing it, but it’s his name that history will remember, him who would rise into legend as the most brilliant and ruthless monster to ever live, the catalyst in humanity’s downfall.

He doesn’t waste so much as a minute before summoning Sans and ordering him to handle it, immediately.

Meet with the Empress, alert her that there’s a human loose in the Underground, and offer her the services of the asset in ending their free roam.

Sans agrees, as he always has, and goes to fetch his brother for the job.

Papyrus is admittedly a little blindsided when not two seconds out of the labs, Sans pulls him aside, out of range of known cameras and recording devices and hisses at him to listen.

He doesn’t know what to make of what Sans says after, either—that he hasn’t earned it and he knows that, but he needs Papyrus to trust him right now, because he is going to lie and everything depends on Papyrus going along with it.

In spite of their messy history and every uncharitable thing Papyrus has ever thought about Sans…right here and now, something in his gut tells him this is no trick.

He agrees to ‘go along with it’…whatever ‘it’ is.

Sans waits until a certain amount of time has elapsed, and then he makes a call to Gaster with Papyrus present to listen.

Gaster is informed that there’s a problem with the latest target. The asset’s programming isn’t taking and he’s refusing to track down the human.

This is, of course, news to Papyrus, who hasn’t been assigned his target yet.

But…Sans said ‘trust me’ and ‘play along,’ so that’s what he does, complaining that he doesn’t want to kill a child, just put him back in his cage and do your own dirty work, old man…

Helpfully—always helpful, always intelligent, always reliable—Sans postulates a conflict of orders might be causing the programming to bug like this. Gaster’s overarching orders are for the asset to kill targets assigned to him, but the Empress has unfortunately countermanded that the human must be brought to her alive.

And again, Papyrus knows differently because the Empress hasn’t given him any orders, they never made it to her for orders to be given and Toriel likely doesn’t even know yet that a human has fallen.

But he said he’d go along with the lie so he keeps his mouth shut, even as he hears Gaster curse on the other end of the line.

Gaster finds Sans’ assessment of the situation as reasonable as it is frustrating, but minds are complicated machines and often behave strangely when conflicts arise. Just look at the Empress, who knows that humans must be killed to free her people, but feels she must perform the act herself instead of the far more convenient option being presented to her!

The asset’s orders being in conflict is a far more annoying stopping block, though, yet another barrier in the way of all the glory that Gaster has so painstakingly earned.

Time is short, stakes are high, he refuses to recall his creation just to debug it and resolve the glitch, not now.

Instead he makes his fatal mistake.

He overrides the asset’s failsafes.

All of them.

Impatiently rattling off a code that nearly makes Papyrus stagger from a feeling like weight being lifted, Gaster disconnects the call with a sharp command to Sans to ‘handle it,’ now that there were no restrictions on his targets or what he could be ordered to do.

Sans is only quiet for a moment before handing a picture to Papyrus, locking him on and beginning the usual debrief.

Papyrus can’t fully grasp what he’s looking at, not at first.

“………confirm target?”

“WINDINGS GASTER, THE CURRENT ROYAL SCIENTIST TO THE CROWN.”

As with any briefing, Papyrus must be informed of his target’s connections, abilities and assets.

Gaster has strong ties with the crown, and between that and his own paranoia, security around him will be tight. He’s intelligent, strong, and merciless, and he won’t hesitate to make use of anything at his disposal in a life-or-death situation.

As an example, he had implanted a condition into his private assassin’s mental programming that would prevent him from acting against or outright attacking him—so it’s fortunate they’ve already cleared that concern.

Now, the top priorities are to ensure that Sans is physically far away from Gaster when the mission is executed, and that Papyrus is at no point seen by Gaster before he’s dead. The entire operation could be sunk if both of these conditions aren’t met.

“why?”

“THERE’S AN ADDITIONAL FAILSAFE, IMPLANTED IN YOUR SOUL. IF GASTER REALIZES YOU’VE BEEN TURNED ON HIM BEFORE YOU’VE SUCCEEDED, HE CAN INSTANTLY DROP YOUR HP TO 1.”

“………and why am i doing this without my handler?”

“BECAUSE I’M COMPROMISED TOO. IF HE SEES ME OUT OF PLACE OR SUSPECTS I’VE BETRAYED HIM AGAIN, HE’LL USE THE FAILSAFE IN MY SOUL TO REMOTELY CONTROL MY BODY AND MOBILIZE ME AGAINST YOU—AND OF COURSE, AT THAT POINT, HE WOULD KNOW THAT YOU’RE TARGETING HIM AS WELL AND BE PREPARED TO KILL YOU.”

And that…

Well.

That sure is a hell of a lot of new information that Papyrus will have to process later, when there’s not a strong compulsion in the back of his skull that there is someone he needs to kill.

He’s a professional, when he’s working.

He will focus on the mission.

To keep up appearances, Sans departs to find the fallen human and trail them on their journey through the Underground. He very much wants to ensure they reach the Empress safely, but there’s an added bonus of being exactly where he’s supposed to be and doing exactly what he’s supposed to do should Gaster check in on him—no need to arouse any suspicion, not before it’s far too late.

In the end, when Chara has befriended monsterkind against all odds, winning over the Empress herself and freeing them all to a life of peace with humankind on the surface, the death of the Royal Scientist is an incidental discovery.

Sans takes responsibility for it, pleading for the Empress’s mercy.

Gaster had wanted the human—kind young Chara, to whom Toriel has taken such a liking—killed immediately as soon as they emerged from the Ruins, and he hadn’t thought that the Empress would condone such an order in light of what she’s always held to regarding fallen humans.

Gaster had been adamant, though, and Sans… Well, he only wanted to serve the will of her highness and to do so, he turned the asset against their master. He hopes only for some leniency for what he’s done, Gaster may have been their father but—

Strangely enough, it seems Toriel had no idea that the asset and his handler were the Royal Scientist’s children. He’d always told her they were employees, volunteers for the things that were done to them and the missions they were told to undertake.

Learning that they had actually been created, intentionally molded and pressed into these roles without a choice in the matter…

Toriel, an Empress first but a mother a very close second, can certainly afford leniency.

The brothers are let loose in spite of their crime, with a bit of funding from the Empress to get on their feet after everything. The money is partially back-pay for their joint service as the crown’s black ops division (for which they were never actually compensated before), and partially amends for how long their…circumstance…went unnoticed.

Sans offers to split the money and part ways with Papyrus, if he’d prefer.

But Papyrus has learned a lot in the past few days to…completely and utterly recontextualize everything he ever thought was true about his handl—…his brother, and…maybe he should stick around a bit. See what’s what.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans)

Extremely restrained and closed off from so many years of being unable to talk to or trust anyone, not even his brother. An accomplished liar but socially unpracticed, tending to read as cold and unfriendly to those who approach him. He’s more awkward than genuinely hostile, though

Issues with being watched, spent most of his life simultaneously going unnoticed and being intensely over-monitored so his feelings about being observed—regardless of context—are complicated, runs hot and cold on it

Complicated feelings for his brother, too: he loves him, of course, and he failed him in many ways, but he was also stuck between him and Gaster for a long time and caught his fair share of hell from both sides and there’s some resentment there for that. He wants to fix things, but he’s not really sure how and just…awkwardly trying his best

Well-organized and skilled at research and thinking analytically, tends to approach most things with a problem-solving attitude and an eye-socket for detail. Extremely talented at finding loopholes and ways around or through the rules—though his respect for said rules is very low to begin with

Likes high and secluded places, mostly rooftops but anywhere it could be difficult for other people to get to. Whether or not those places are restricted by fencing or padlocks or lack of ladders is immaterial, if he finds a high spot he would like to be, he will get to it one way or another and perch as long as he pleases

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus)

Impulsive and driven by self-interest, the years of mental conditioning have broken down his fears and inhibitions to nearly nothing. He does what he wants, when he wants, with little concern for anything else—a dog off its leash who’ll only heel when it’s good and ready to. Unfortunately charming enough to mostly get away with it

Problems with authority, for obvious reasons. Likely to try to bend or break any rule presented to him, just to see if he can, and a severe lack of respect for anyone trying to enforce those rules upon him (especially the arbitrary ones)

Conflicting and highly jumbled feelings for his brother, making them a matched set: he disliked him, maybe even hated him a little for a long time, for helping Gaster turn him into what he is and for being the one to yank his leash and pull his strings…but that was before he knew that he had a kill-switch in his soul and that his brother was up on strings on his own, being pulled by the jackass they both apparently hated… It doesn’t erase everything that happened, knowing that, but it does…change things. (He wants to fix things too, but he’s not sure how either, so they’re both just awkwardly trying)

Needs ‘tune-ups’ every so often to reinforce his mental conditioning and make sure all his programming is intact, even now that Gaster’s gone and he’s retired as an assassin. Going too long without re-upping it causes deterioration, compulsions ‘leaking’ without being triggered and causing headaches and erratic, sometimes violent behavior so…best for everyone to keep his head maintained regularly

Absolutely loves nature and wilderness, hiking, camping, and climbing trees is his idea of an excellent time. Could absolutely go off on a run and disappear into the trees and not be seen or heard from for a week, likely to get some forest-cryptid lore started about him—possibly on purpose

[treefey]

So, not that I want an adaptation of the Belgariad (I feel like it would not be done well at all), but I keep thinking about some small tweaks to the Merel x Barak storyline that showcase what I love about their story and to not do spousal rape.

I love this story arc because it's bitterness eventually giving way to reconciliation and love. And it showcases angsty Garion's emotional intelligence, not as much as his unwavering faith in Pol x Durnik, but he can still tell his friend is hurting and wants better for him.

BUT the narrative always states that Merel is the problem. Silk says she is a shallow woman. Polgara kind of gloats when she knows Merel is pregnant with a son and says "you had to grow up" when Merel says she didn't realize how sweet Barak is. Of course, the "not even a locked door could keep you out" (paraphrased) line. Yikes yikes yikes on spikes. The implication that Barak cheated on Merel with a lady friend in Val Alorn is also dumb.

So, the fix is actually in the scaffolding of the story. It's obvious to me that Merel was treated as a bargaining chip by her family. Her obsession with duty is because it's how she was raised as a noblewoman. She didn't have a choice in her marriage, it was a duty. Sleeping with her husband is what she is supposed to do. Barak is so in love with her, and once he realizes their marriage is nothing more than a responsibility to her, he is deeply hurt. And maybe she tried and got bitter through his bitterness, or maybe she could never hide how angry and hurt she was that her parents basically sold her off once Barak had political power.

But the thing is, I think she does kinda like him. As soon as Garion comes to Barak with information about the plot in Val Alorn, her coldness drops. What we see is a woman with a great political mind, a quick thinker who urges Barak to stop wallowing in self pity and is 100% behind him when they talk to the king. And sure, she falls back on duty almost immediately, but I think that's to cope with the fact that deep down, she likes Barak and they've been so mean to each other for so long that neither of them can admit that they actually have feelings for each other. I don't think duty alone accounts for the way she backs him, the way she immediately stops being bitter.

Also Barak explicitly trusts her with managing their estate, something that is a big deal in a v sexist Cherek, and that's not lost on Merel.

So, on to the actual fixes. If Silk still says Merel is shallow, Garion should realize that she's a deeply hurt woman used as a political pawn by her family. Sendars don't do arranged marriages that we see, so Garion says something about how lonely she must have felt, and he sees that she relies on responsibility as armor because that's all she knows, her own feelings and desires are so deeply buried. She and Barak are both deeply wounded, and whenever one of them tries to thaw a little, the other is still all hard edges so they never make any progress. I'd advise just talking out the random probably hooker in Val Alorn, but if you wanna keep her, have Barak say he's married now, turn her down flat.

And instead of the locked door line, Merel should say something like "you didn't mind when I took my martial duties seriously your first night here. In fact, you were quite enthusiastic."

It's a very small change, but huge in the implications. One, Barak is not breaking in to have sex with his wife against her will. Two, while it's not the enthusiastic consent we are used to, it's willing consent. So maybe not great by most modern standards, but it's great in the world that's been built. It also kinda implies she initiated. Three, I think it could imply that Barak still loves her and she has some affection for him. That maybe they can get along long enough to have some fun, but then reality comes crashing down and their walls come back up.

Polgara is still amused by Merel's pregnancy, but isn't as smug about it. Then in Riva instead of saying Merel needed time to grow up, she says that the birth of a son tore down the walls they built.

The other thing I'd like to be addressed subtly is why their two daughters didn't thaw their attitude towards each other. The text states that Barak loves his daughters. So their births could have theoretically been a turning point. He's taken by wonder at both of their births, no matter the societal expectation that he needs a son. But Merel feels like she's failed in her duty, and she's afraid they'll be political pawns like her one day. (Barak would never let his daughters be married off unless they wanted it. But since they never truly talk, Merel doesn't realize this.) Merel recognizes Barak's gentleness with their daughters, and thinks kindly of him for it, but it's not enough to tear down those walls. So they are still stuck in this cycle of being standoffish to one another.

When their son is born, she feels like she's finally fulfilled her martial duties. When she asks Barak if she did well, he finally reassures her that yes, she did great, he's not defensive and can't hold back all the years of tenderness and love towards his wife. And that tenderness is so obviously genuine that she believes him. And they finally repair their relationship.

(There's already enough characters in this series, but I feel like Barak chewing out his in-laws would be fun, like if they were there when he first saw Unrak and made a comment about how he must be happy Merel finally fulfilled her duty to give him a son and he flips out on them)

[thebroccolination]

So, I had a tiny epiphany tonight.

I have divorced parents with diametrically opposed approaches to maintaining relationships with their children. My father is self-absorbed, manipulative, and insecure to the degree that even though he's intelligent, funny, and interesting, all three of his adult children believe our lives are better without him. My mother, on the other hand, has never been on the outs with any of us.

I didn't want to travel back to the States for the holidays this year, because 1) it's expensive, and 2) it's always, always emotionally exhausting in some way. I was fully prepared to spend it alone or with friends, but my mother came to Ireland to spend Christmas and New Year's with me.

Then I broke my foot. But that's another story.

Anyway, tonight we were having dinner, and I showed her the newly revised pitch for the book I'm writing. She doesn't dislike fantasy, but she's more of a romance gal, so my whole motivation in showing her was more of a, "Look, Mommy, I made a drawing for the fridge," kind of thing rather than a, "Here is a book you would choose and then tell your friends about," thing.

And as casual as can be, the way she has done since I was a child, she supported me.

She said she can feel it, that this upcoming year will be the year Big Things happen, and she said, "You're gonna write the movie screenplay for your book, and I'm gonna come to the premiere."

She's always been like this.

Once, when I was in high school, I was lying on my back near her desk and I said, "Remember that short story I wrote in first grade about the wolf who eats the hunter?"

She said, "I certainly do," and opened her desk's bottom drawer, took out a manila folder, and handed the looseleaf papers to me.

I've always felt humbled by her belief in me. Possibly because my father seems to see all of his children as extensions of himself, so his emotional support is forever conditional. Hers is just…always there. Unfailing, unquestioning.

And I've apologized to my mother over and over throughout the years for not succeeding more. For not making more of the support she's given me. She always seems so confused by my guilt.

Then I realized, maybe for the first time, that her love and support aren't only not conditional, they're just…easy for her. She isn't trying to be supportive. It isn't work or effort for her to believe in her children and to tell us.

Tonight, she rattled off a stream of compliments, confident in my future in a way that I've never felt, and for once, I wasn't focused on myself, but on her. And rather than apologize to her yet again, or internally punish myself for getting praise that I don't feel like I deserve, I actually absorbed it.

I'm in my mid-thirties now, and I'm still finding all the ways my father wore down my heartstrings and tangled my brainstem. And who knows, maybe some of this insecurity didn't come from him. Life is complicated, and it can be too easy to blame everything on a bad parent.

The epiphany I had is that even when I'm complimenting my mother for not being like my father, I'm still centering him instead of her.

And that's why I want to focus more actively and more often on the good my mother has done for me. Because her words have shaped some of my favorite things about myself.

When I was four, I stood up to some classmates when they made fun of a friend for crying, and when I told my mother about it later, she said offhandedly but proudly, "You have such a strong sense of justice," and so protecting others became one of my core values. Very literally in that moment. I'd never thought of myself as someone who could protect anyone until she said it was so.

She has built the scaffolding of my life in so many ways, and I'm going to appreciate that more.

And tell her that I'm proud of her, too.

[thecagedsong]

I think why I dislike Zelda’s story in TOTK is that on paper it initially reads as a do over of her arc in BOTW. She finally meets supportive parents who encourage her to research instead of sacrificing herself. Rauru sacrifices himself so that Zelda won’t have to. But instead of Zelda researching a way to help her kingdom in the future, she sacrifices herself again. What’s the takeaway? She learns to kill herself better? To me, she basically reaffirms Rhoam’s toxic beliefs that her intelligence, curiosity, and desire for knowledge were all worthless and embodies a misogynistic holy maiden archetype.

There are parallels, meant to show how much Zelda has grown, but I disagree that the point is to reaffirm Rhoam's teachings and disregard her own mortal strengths.

Zelda was allowed to explore the ways her knowledge, curiosity, kindness, and intelligence can help her kingdom. That was the nearly earliest things Zelda did. It was those traits, not any powers, that made everyone in the kingdom love her. Being herself and walking her own path. It was her love of recipes and ancient ruins and animals and hiking and painting and teaching that built her a home in Hateno and in post-calamity Hyrule. All the peoples of Hyrule see her as she is, no holy powers, and they use her title of 'Princess' as a sign of love and respect, not because of societal scaffolding of the monarchy. Link searches for Zelda because of who she is, because of the relationship they are shown to have through Zelda's diaries, and that's why Zelda's not found until she's in his arms with all her memories, because finding the source of the holy power to help him defeat the demon king isn't enough.

If the sacrifice to restore the master sword was enough, where the holy maiden archtype ends, the quest to find Zelda would end when Link saw the memory of her turning. If Link was a new hero, a blacksmith, a boy raised by forest spirits, it would be enough to honor Zelda's sacrifice by defeating the demon king. If a new hero had nothing but the memories and the dragon. But by looking at everything Zelda did during the time skip, by seeing mortal Zelda for who she is, by looking at the relationship between her and Link then it is in no way enough.

It's kind of funny that you limit Rauru's purpose to a father figure in Zelda's arc. Rauru does not sacrifice himself not so Zelda won't have to, Zelda sacrificing herself to contain him a la botw isn't even on the table.

Rauru's arc is one of humility. He welcomes Ganondorf and the Gerudo into his castle because he believes that it is better for him to be there so Rauru can keep an eye on him. Zelda warns him that Ganondorf is dangerous, but Rauru's arrogance lets him in. Why shouldn't Rauru be arrogant? He has secret stones, his people are worshipped as gods, he's built a kingdom, his wife controls time itself (though in a limited capacity compared to Zelda, who is also on his side). Like every other king of Hyrule before him, Rauru ignores Zelda's knowledge of the future and doesn't trust her word, being Zonai does not change this fault among the kings of Hyrule.

Rauru underestimates Ganondorf. We can fill in some of the blanks that Ganondorf was able to replicate Zelda because he had interacted with her, that he knew the layout of hyrule castle because he had been invited in. Both things that allowed him to kill Sonia. Even to the end, when Zelda tells Rauru of the future (you're going to die in this battle, it's how I got your secret stone, you seal him not defeat him). Rauru still has a shadow of that arrogance when he tells her not to worry, Zelda changed the past by coming back, we'll kill him for sure. We see Rauru accepting his fate to die being the lock on Ganondorf, accepting that Zelda was right, accepting that his role is not to be the one to avenge his wife, and he has to do that for HYRULE, even though he himself doesn't want to. A theme of self-sacrificial love. If you label Zelda's sacrifice in botw as the holy maiden archetype but don't label Rauru the same way, that's misogynistic btw.

Zelda's kindness and ability to bring people together, her mortal traits, are what keeps the sage's spirits tied to their secret stones until the time comes again for their successors to use them against the demon king. They swear themselves to help someone based on Zelda's faith in Link, because they trust her as the leader of the sages (a role that would more naturally fall to Mineru, but Zelda takes it instead because that is part of who she is as well.)

In botw, Zelda unlocked her powers because she had learned to love one person: Link. She locked herself with the Calamity so Link would have a chance to live again and come rescue her. Hyrule distinctly does not love Zelda in botw, her own court gossips about her failures and Zelda presumes that everyone hates for her failures just as much as she hates herself.

In totk, Zelda swallowed the stone because she had learned to love more than just Link. She had learned to love all of Hyrule, and she because she was once again taking up her mantle as Protector of Hyrule (not Link) and so would sacrifice herself for it, something she could only do because she had come to love it as she had and because Hyrule had loved her in return.

The take-away from Zelda's story is that with great power comes great responsibility. That in being a good leader means sacrificing for your people. (Can you imagine if politicians today had a fraction of this kind of self-sacrificial love?) That love comes when you are yourself and reach out to others. That there will be times when you are the only one capable of acting, and that action requires a leap of faith because you cannot achieve great things alone. All these themes are unique to totk and present in more stories than just Zelda's character arc, which is part of good writing. If you reduce her to a sacrificial maiden, that's your misogyny, not the writing.

Stories are often about giving up the things that you want so you can achieve the things that you need. And if you have a problem with a story presenting self-sacrificial love as a need that people must give up the things they want to achieve, that's a personal dislike, not a sign of bad writing.

Zelda has almost ALWAYS been connected to her role as a leader/protector that must give up her own wants for the greater good of her people, which might be where the sense of misogyny is actually coming from. That it is Link that gives the final sword stroke and Zelda that needs to be rescued, but the fact that the story of Zelda and Link overcoming evil is told over and over again doesn't mean its bad writing, the story telling basic blocks are the same to connect the games within the greater franchise. Self-sacrificial love is always a part of Zelda's theme because of her role as a leader, just like exploration and growing up are always a part of Link's themes as the player character of humble origins.

The Kingdom must fall to have a story about saving it. Zelda must demonstrate what a good leader is supposed to do when the kingdom falls. Link must leave home and find a way to conquer evil to have a story about saving it and because we all have to find a way to save our homes when something in life threatens it, and the solution to the problem is found outside and from the courage within yourself.

OoT gave up her identity, then gave up Link (the story acknowledges this when you need silent princesses to upgrade the sheik mask AHHHHH!). SS is literally based upon a goddess giving up godhood for the sake of preserving Hyrule against Demise. TP gave up her kingdom to the shadows of Twilight to preserve it, then gave up her body to help Midna. Tetra gave up the freedom of being a pirate to rebuild her kingdom. It's about what it means to be a good leader, what it means to love, and yeah, what it means to touch divinity. I find Zelda inspiring.