#or infodumps in this case maybe

[mmaurysiek]

a few supplementals (sorry, the infodump below grew long on me) :

- Chinese braille

Chinese braille is pinyin-based, which means essentially Latin alphabet with accent symbols, but no capital letter symbols, as far as i know; while it didn't exist in the time period the show is stylized as - that time period also had much lower literacy rates than the show suggests, so we've got some wiggle room here;

specifically about literacy: the characters used in the show are characters, not letters - so the literacy is more of a scale: learning to read means learning whole words, starting from the most common ones; a lot of people would know more common characters and be unfamiliar with the less common ones

more complicated characters have repeated elements, so one could technically try to guess the meaning, with varied (mostly wrong) results (what a woman carrying rice to a - is that a silo - has to do with maths? it's about that level of abstract)

so much like real Chinese people without access to formal education occasionally had done - some characters may invent a writing system to use between themselves; it might be even sound-based too, though probably not tied to a Latin alphabet like pinyin is, so the character length may be even more consistent there than in the pinyin-based braille; it may also be written vertically, top to bottom, like traditional Chinese writing and even modern poetry often would 🤔

braille as a tactile medium is limited to the maximum amount of detail that would be relatively easily decipherable in minimal time; it's a raised-dots sixpoint that fits under a fingertip for a damn good reason; that means a finite amount of characters - any extras, e.g. larger characters or new characters that would have a line instead of two dots - would take a little longer to read per character, but it's still plausible that people may come up with that; any indents (instead of raised bits) would take much longer time to check for, and are therefore impractical;

China and the cultural significance of paper aside, i was wondering why an earthbender country wouldn't use clay tablets (probably due to the low percentage of earthbenders in the general population). these are more suited to making indents than ridges tho, but would make sense as easily erasable (just press it blank) stuff that children could draw on, so if the characters are trying to metaphorically reinvent the wheel before finding a writing system that already exists - that could be a fun plot device

before the typing machines became the main writing method for braille, currently much cheaper braille writing tablets were a way to go - nowdays they're made of plastic; they're shaped like a book cover without any book, with one side full of rectangular holes the size of a standard braille sixpoint, the other with round indents that make sure that the resulting ridges are nice and even and pleasantly round to the touch; you put a thick paper sheet inside and write by pressing the stylus into the specific parts of the sixpoint holes, mirror-like so that the letters on the other side would be written in the right direction

these braille writing tablets can also be used to draw mazes and stuff, though the easier way of flat-drawing is to glue appropriately thick thread to a flat surface; that way of drawing allows not just for lines but also for using shapes and varied textures, too

btw, getting used to braille means training up one's touch sensitivity; new readers tend to sometimes press letters back into the paper

also, it's customary to cut or fold a specific corner of the paper sheets to quickly indicate which way the text is going; the gaang obviously didn't know that when hanging the lost Appa posters

do what you want with that information :)

- the Moses / skewer / sword-cut maneuvre

when it comes to using long cane (sorry if that's not an appropriate term in English; here the users tend to call it a long cane because it's a vibration-conducting lightweight long cane, calling it a white cane is a more of a sighted people thing - but it may be just a regional custom for all i know -- when it comes to using the long cane, there are a number of ways to do it, depending on what the user wants to achieve (e.g. prevent collisions with people? hold diagonally; check the terrain? a sweeping motion in front of oneself)

the Moses / skewer maneuver is a rare one, because it takes a really very specific kind of person to even consider it - and Toph is very much that kind of person:

we call it a Moses / skewer maneuver here because you do it to pass crowded areas by raising the cane in front of you like a sword - (which also means no tracking of the terrain for the duration of the maneuver) - and march forward at a steady pace, so that the crowd has no choice but to part aside to avoid getting skewered

Toph so would

(the question is - what would be a setting-appropriate name for this maneuver? i came up with a "sword-cut" but there may be something better.)

as for the long cane length, the standard length is a cane that reaches an armpit, shorter for the people who walk slowly and cautiously, and longer for the speedsters; i imagine that Toph may opt for one long enough to touch her face when held vertically 🤔

- the hoop and stuff

there are stand-ins for the cane in circumstances where it can't be or isn't efficient to use; the most basic ones are the back of one's outstretched hand or a stack of papers to maneuver between writing desks

since my country doesn't hand the stabby but fragile and expensive long canes to toddlers, we've got the hoops put to use - basically a hula hoop that a kid can either hold in front or around themself to avoid all collisions; there are no convenient hoop skirts in the setting, but i imagine that there must be some tools that Toph could have used in a similar manner? baskets, perhaps? 🤔

- searching trick

i think Toph discreetly does that in canon, i can't guarantee it tho - i tend to miss moments that weren't audiodescribed - the searching trick is simple - it's using a circular motion of one's hand (starting from a spot in the middle, going in increasingly larger circle) to locate a thing that should be there, or to check one's seat against pranks and leftover stuff

- pouring liquids

frankly, i don't know how how the tea was done before the battery-powered beepers that beep when the water (or touch) reaches the prongs and thus closes the electric circuit; the level of room-temperature and cold drinks can be checked with a thumb inside the cup, but hot drink may be too hot; and with how diligently China sterilised water for drinking by boiling it shortly before use -- i can't think of anything better than use an oddly lare cup and only pour in about half of it, to make the error margin bigger 🤔

- basic echoes and other supplementals

if one's hearing works fine, there are basic echoes one can use regardless of not having any advanced echolocation skills: open space makes sounds travel (like outdoors), flat surfaces make sounds bounce back (like a mostly empty tunnel / room with good acoustics), intensely patterned surfaces mute sounds (like sound barriers that cancel noise of the streets); echoes like that would give Toph information that she wouldn't be able to access through earthbending, like the long curtain separating the room in half ends roughly about here sort of stuff

along with smells, more generic noises, and warmth levels (btw, dark fabrics heat up much more in direct sunlight than bright fabrics do) -- it's going to significantly supplement Toph's navigation, both clarifying stuff she's already perceived through earthbending (like the wall that ends here is mostly bare here and prbably covered in some stuff over there) and alerting her of stuff she did not (like the soup smells ready)

- seismic sense navigation and how Toph sees people and stuff

the clarity of Toph's seismic perception depends on the quality of the ground: solid rock seems best, small highly mobile grains like sand and mud give her a lot of difficulty, and floors from non-rocky materials like wood block her seismic sense (i imagine Toph might have a love-hate-mostly-hate relationship with carpets)

Toph cannot seismic-sense flying objects, so she can't seismic sense through air; her area of earth-sight is fairly far through whatever solid rock she's standing on or touching with her hands, more "fuzzy" if she has to parse through that rock to another touching it, and her horizon ends where the rock ends and air / water / wood / etc. begins

that suggests that Toph perceives the pressures exerted on the rock and estimates the objects' qualities from that; it's very different from seeing; (that indirect perception style is more similar to echolocation than to touch)

immobile objects that aren't a stone conduct that could carry Toph's seismic perception further -- these exert a steady downwards pressure on the rock based on their weight; let's take a wooden chair as an example - Toph can see the pressure points where the chair's legs weight on the stone floor (a staple in the earthbender country); she can see how heavy is the weight on each leg based on that, but she can't directly see whether there is anything suspended between the chair's legs nor the chair's shape; but she can take an educated guess. it's light and small enough to be an empty chair rather than a wardrobe.

and if someone sits on that chair without directly touching the floor, their added weight and the uneven weight distribution (heavier on the leg they're leaning towards) -- is also something that Toph can see, and take an educated guess that either the chair is occupied or it's a coat rack with more coats on one side... nah, the coats don't just shift weight by themselves, must be an occupied chair

i don't know if she would be able to notice whether the thing touching the rock is stiff or soft just based on pressures, or is that another educated guess based on weight distribution - a softer thing creates more of a flat surface contact point with the floor, lighter pressure on the edges, compared to a stiff thing that doesn't change shape under the weight

as for the people (or animals), they move, so the pressure from their contact points with the ground isn't going steadily downwards as is the case with objects -- instead, it goes at an angle, as the living being pushes themself away from the ground / surface to a particular direction; similar as happens with objects that bounce off the ground / surface -- the trajectory of the movement is yet another educated guess

so specific people (and animals) have their own individual gaits, (and a person's gait shifts to reflect how they're feeling! or whether they're carrying bulky / heavy stuff around!), though there are some patterns -- e.g. i think Toph would be able to guess which stranger is an earthbender just based on how rooted their gait is; Aang is the opposite of that, so airbendingly light on his feet, hard to spot (which is a funny contrast with how easy he's to spot visually, with his yellow-orange clothing xD)

now, there are seismic signals that are more obvious and the subtle ones that require much more focus to notice: a person's gait is way more obvious than whether they're wearing shoes; i think it's most likely that Toph can recognise the gait of a person without much effort, but she has to actively look for more details like e.g. whether they're wearing shoes

- seismic sense truthtelling

speaking of minute details that require concentration, feeling someone's pulse through the skin which that person happens to press against the rock -- that sounds like a feat that requires a whole lot of focus! thus - probably only done on purpose; a person's gait may alert Toph that there's something to look for, though

- shape of rock

with rock being a thing that Toph perceives through rather than outside of, Toph would probably have a good grasp on volume, distances through, and maybe the mineral structure of rock she's using; quite a different perspective from the things that she perceives by either seismic proxy or by touch

i think that makes sculpting a fun challenge to Toph, that shift of perspective; i imagine it feels a bit similar to crawling into inside the empty space of a large sculpture to find these all-reversed bits that face away from you now (indents and outdents, all reversed) -- she gets this sense through solid rock, no crawl space required

- sense of time

btw, being completely can't-see-light blind, Toph's internal clock would be disconnected from the daylight cycle; there are still cues she gets from noise levels, meals (fats may make one more energetic and carbohydrates more restful), air temperature and how much of a workout she gets -- sill, Toph (given her general attitude towards society rules) might easily be not an early bird, not a night owl, but a secret third thing (sleeping when she feels like it, possibly operating on a different length of day than others do)

(for full disclosure and context, i'm sighted with visual processing issues, like, good vision with a somewhat noticeable delay in actually seeing things plus an occasional colour perception glitch; i have some training in non-visual navigation as we call the O&M here, and i had accidentally taught myself to echolocate as a kid prior to that, which totally makes sense for a kid who hears way faster than sees, lol)

Writing Toph Beifong, Advice from a Blind Writer

I’m Mimzy, an actual visually impaired writer and blogger who talks a lot about writing blind characters accurately and sensitively. A while back someone sent me an anon asking how to write Toph more accurately and sensitively.

Anonymous asked: Hi there! Your blog has been super-helpful already - I thought I knew a bit about writing with blind characters, but it turns out there was a lot to learn - but this is more specific. I’m writing a The Last Airbender fanfiction, and one of the characters is Toph. I think the fandom has done a fairly good job of respecting her blindness, but what are some things you’d like to see when people write her? I want to represent the character as best as possible; thanks in advance!

It’s taken a while for me to answer because I have a lot of thoughts about it as both a blind writer and someone who has read a lot of atla fanfiction. So here we go:

Keep reading

[kindaorangey]

i really like the bit in TVL where lestat and armand briefly form a "fumbled louis du lac" social club

[squuote]

i wish more people made video essays talking about things they love. i love hearing people talk in depth about things they love, especially if its something new to me. like cool sure yeah you can talk about the history of something but like, maybe i wanna know your personal connection to it. maybe i wanna know what fascinated you to talk about it in the first place. many such wonders in the world, let me know why it tugs you to speak of it

[skymantle]

girl who knows something is terribly wrong

(I often think about how Noelle completely ignores Ralsei, to the point that her perception of Ralsei Tea is a completely empty cup)

[lookforanewangle]

I've only watched one episode but I am baffled that there is not a single crossover fic on ao3 between 9-1-1 and high potential

[comas-are-for-sleeping]

my mom doesn’t think im autistic and then i write shit like, “yeah i look for patterns in my life but for some reason socializing and people never fit? why cant i apply other knowledge to being a person with other people”

[giantkillerjack]

ok but consider: couples t shirts that say “please ask me about birds” and “please for the love of god someone ask her about birds."

couples t shirts that say “please ask me about birds” and “please for the love of god don’t ask her about birds”

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you join the team as a replacement after jj's departure. despite the initial stress and difficulties adapting, you manage to fully connect with the rest of the team. more than that—you make friends. and fall in love. but after unexpected events and returns, your time with them comes to an end—because, in the end, you were only a placeholder.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x bau!female reader, reader is an anxious overthinker whom i want to hug so badly, my intention was not to antagonize jj and i don't want it to be perceived that way, possibly incorrect infodump about tiramisu—offended italians, please don’t come to my house with torches and forks, melancholic, sad ending aka matilda's standard

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request

6 months ago…

If you look at it in a certain way, almost everything started with tiramisu. Or rather, it started with your conversation with Penelope—overheard by Rossi—where you boasted about being an expert at making this Italian dessert. Or perhaps the most accurate statement would be that it started with JJ. After all, you were brought into the Behavioral Analysis Unit as her replacement — their new, young media liaison, meant to gain more experience through the role. 

Anyway, that Saturday evening, you felt a slight chill on your shoulders as you stepped out of the car, clutching a massive tray of freshly made tiramisu and silently praying not to drop it before making it inside. Rossi’s house—excuse me, his mansion—truly looked impressive.

 You couldn’t say you weren’t nervous. In fact, you were absolutely terrified—and not because of what the senior member of your new team might say about your baking skills. It was something else entirely.Eeryone had been invited that evening, including the team members you hadn’t yet gotten to know outside of work. Your relationship with them was strictly professional, and more often than not, you caught yourself wanting to appear flawless in their eyes. To prove that, despite your lack of experience, you were worthy of taking on this role. That, despite your relatively young age, you were mature and responsible.

So yes, you were nervous. In fact, the anxiety grew with every step you took toward the door, your grip on the tray tightening until your knuckles turned white.That didn’t stop you from almost dropping it when you suddenly jumped at the sound of your name spoken from behind.

 "Oh my—" you gasped, inhaling sharply, instinctively wanting to clutch your chest—except both your hands were occupied.

Spencer Reid's brown eyes widened as he realized just how badly he had startled you.

 "Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s fine," you assured him, nodding a little too quickly. You took a slower breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. You worked with people who hunted serial killers for a living, delved into the darkest, most nightmarish cases—and yet, you nearly had a heart attack just because someone called your name.

 In your defense, you were a woman alone at night, and a tray of tiramisu wasn’t exactly the deadliest weapon.Noticing the guilt still lingering on his face, you forced a smile and lifted the tray slightly. "I mean it. As long as I didn’t drop the cake, everything’s fine."

He stood before you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat, a purple scarf draped around his neck. The corners of his lips lifted slightly at your response, but you knew it was just a polite gesture—there was nothing particularly amusing about what you’d said.

You suddenly became aware of the silence stretching between you, neither of you moving, the moment teetering on the edge of awkwardness. You cleared your throat. Maybe you should compliment the scarf. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him. 

After all, this was Dr. Spencer Reid—the man whose name had once reached your ears and settled somewhere in your thoughts, cementing itself under the label of genius. That was the lens through which you saw him, having yet to familiarize yourself with any of his other traits.

What you had noticed, however, was that he seemed to prefer keeping you at a distance. And yes, it all traced back to your first meeting—your first greeting, your first outstretched hand, and the first, slightly awkward:

It’s actually safer to kiss.

“You think we’re the first ones here?" you asked, just before pressing the doorbell. Then, hesitating, you bit the inside of your cheek. "Actually…maybe we’re a little too early." 

"I think we’re fine," he replied. "Rossi said eight."

You gave a small nod. The door swung open.

“What are you doing here so early?" You and Spencer exchanged a glance.

"If I remember correctly—and I do—you said eight. It’s eight."

"Decent people show up fashionably late."

"And then you’d complain that the younger generation doesn’t respect your time."

You watched the exchange in silence, noticing the flicker of amusement in both men’s eyes. Of course, they weren’t actually arguing—just friendly banter. Still, something about it caught your attention. You wondered if you’d ever feel comfortable enough around them to join in like that.

He stepped aside to let you both in, and as you crossed the threshold, you realized you hadn’t said a word yet. 

“As promised," you started, nodding toward the dessert in your hands. "My specialty."

Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

"We’ll see about that. “

But he did take the tray from you while you slipped off your coat. 

"I was actually about to make an important call," he announced. "Before someone decided to show up early. So, if you’ll excuse me, you’ll have to entertain yourselves for a bit. Be so kind as not to destroy my kitchen. Everyone else should be here soon."

And with that, he simply left you there. 

Reid clearly knew his way around the house—he had to—because without hesitation, he led you straight to the kitchen, where you set the dessert down on the black marble countertop. And just like that, the two of you were left alone, connected by a slightly awkward silence.

"Maybe I should cut it," you mused, your gaze falling on the tiramisu. "Rossi wouldn’t mind if I used his knives, right?" 

"I don’t think so," he said, standing on the other side of the kitchen island, made of white wood with plenty of drawers.

To your surprise, you realized he was watching your movements. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize that you noticed it from the corner of your eye. Or maybe you were imagining it, but you could swear you heard him swallow.

"You know, there are many theories about when and how tiramisu was actually invented," he remarked.

 "I don't think I've heard any of them," you admitted, glancing around for a knife. "I mean, I can make it, but I can’t explain…the historical context behind it" 

He leaned his elbows on the counter, briefly lowering his gaze to his hands. The sleeves of his purple shirt remained slightly rolled up, not quite reaching his wrists.

"It originated in Italy, of course. And the most popular version says it was invented in the 1960s in Treviso. At least, before that period, the name doesn’t appear in any sources."

Focused on cutting the cake evenly, unconsciously sticking out the tip of your tongue, you couldn’t muster any reaction, but you listened intently. Spencer, however, seemed to think otherwise—after briefly glancing at your face, he looked away, apparently deciding to drop the topic.

"What does it mean?" you asked. Your eyes met, and for a moment, he looked surprised. "I mean, what does the name mean?" you clarified with a gentle smile. "I should probably expand my knowledge. What if Rossi decides to quiz me?"

After a brief moment, a small, friendly smile bloomed on his lips.

"Well, in that case, I’ll do my best to prepare you."

You hadn’t been working together for long, but even so, you had already discovered—fascinated—that he was a true wellspring of knowledge, with no apparent limits to his mind. Sometimes, he would lose his train of thought—you had noticed that too. And sometimes, he would stumble when he realized it himself. You found it somewhat endearing. Or at the very least, well…you liked listening to it.

Somewhere around the time you had been acquainted with three theories about its origin, the etymology of its name, the original recipe and its variations, as well as a few interesting fun facts about tiramisu—which you listened to without even realizing that you were still holding the knife despite having finished cutting the cake—the sound of the host’s footsteps reached you. But they weren’t headed in your direction. Instead, he made his way to the door to let the other guests in.

You tried to relax your shoulders, aiming to appear at ease. Bodies are often treacherous and rarely care about how you wish to be perceived. Instead, they ignore your intentions and take cues from your subconscious—and subconsciously, you were stressed.

You quietly scolded yourself, shaking your head slightly. After all, they were all profilers—experts at reading body language. As if on cue, just as the thought crossed your mind, you accidentally caught Reid’s gaze fixed on you. You shrugged, the corners of your lips lifting slightly, feigning ignorance.

Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure what was going through your own head. Maybe it was that deep-seated belief that you always had to present yourself at your best—worthy of this job. Even though this was supposed to be a casual gathering, off the clock, in your free time.

“You guys already here?” Prentiss raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Spencer on opposite sides of the kitchen island. Hotch followed behind her, nodding in greeting. “We’re not late, are we?”

“We’re late?” Penelope’s voice rang out as she peeked into the room, her head appearing in the doorway. She stopped short, and Morgan, walking right behind her, gently grabbed her shoulders to keep from bumping into her.

“It’s just me, baby girl,” he reassured her, a faint smirk on his lips. “Or maybe too much me, judging by that jump. Hey, everyone. Reid. New girl. Good to see you. Not sick of us yet after this week, are you?"

"Oh, come on, don’t act like we’re that unbearable," Prentiss chided, shooting him a look.

By then, everyone had made their way inside, starting to take seats on the high bar stools. You stood there, returning smiles and greetings, and let Garcia pull you into a hug. Derek called you New girl. While you'd grown to like him, the nickname didn’t sit quite right with you. It highlighted your place in the team, making it clear that you weren’t quite like the rest of them.

"Actually, the way we perceive ourselves can be different from how we really are, simply because of how much time we spend together," Spencer mused aloud.

"You might be onto something," Morgan nodded at him, then turned his gaze back to you. "Let’s get an outside opinion. Are we unbearable?"

"You are," Rossi confirmed immediately, not even glancing up from the wine bottle in his hands, likely searching for the vintage.

"I said outside opinion."

Then, all the curious gazes had settled on you. Up until now, your hands had rested casually on the counter, but you pulled them away to hide how anxiously they were moving. Spencer tracked the motion with his eyes—something you caught in your peripheral vision, and you had to resist the urge to curse under your breath. Hiding your anxiety from these people, especially from him, was proving harder than you’d expected.

You hesitated, searching for the perfect answer. You often caught yourself doing this in social situations—as if this were a test question with only one correct response, rather than a casual conversation where anything you said would be fine as long as it was honest.

That evening, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. They were joking easily, teasing one another, and now that all their attention was focused on you, you wanted to say something that would blend you into the moment, something that would break the ice. This was your first time meeting outside of work.

But the longer you stayed silent, the more the right words slipped away from you. It was like a black curtain had suddenly dropped over your mind.

"Who wants to try the tiramisu?" you blurted out at last.

An unbearable awkwardness tightened around your chest—but then, to your surprise, Prentiss laughed, setting off the rest of the group.

"I’m not accepting this subject change," Morgan shook his head.

"I, on the other hand, think it was a good move. Almost diplomatic," Spencer countered. His gaze flickered toward you for a brief second, and you caught something there—though you weren’t entirely sure what. Understanding, maybe? Either way, you felt the urge to flash a grateful smile at both him and Emily.

But Spencer quickly refocused on Derek, directing his next words at him. "Because the real answer could be…” he lowered his voice dramatically,  "…mercilessly brutal."

“Oh, you’re all wrong," Penelope rolled her eyes. "Obviously, she was going to say she’s already fallen in love with all of us. Right, sweetheart?" She turned to you but didn’t wait for an answer—actually, you didn’t even have time to move, let alone speak. "See? Just like I said. Now, let’s try that cake, because I can’t stand the way it’s looking at me with those heavenly little eyes..."

The tight, complicated knot in your stomach started to loosen, little by little. Garcia’s suggestion was met with general enthusiasm and quickly turned into action. Naturally, Rossi had to be the first to take a bite. Everyone’s eyes locked onto him as he slowly swallowed a microscopic piece, as if he were some renowned food critic. You could see amusement on everyone’s faces—even Hotch’s—which was a completely new experience for you.

After a long, tension-filled moment, Rossi gave a slight nod of approval.

You placed a hand over your chest in mock relief.

“That’s the proudest I’ve felt since I got my diploma," you said casually—straightforward, natural, without overthinking.

Maybe you really were starting to open up.

Time moved forward at a gentle pace, and while you didn’t suddenly become the life of the party, the friendly atmosphere started to get to you. You all opened the bottle of wine the host had brought, raising your glasses in a toast to whatever came to mind—after all, there was no real occasion to celebrate.

You noticed that Spencer wasn’t drinking, but he still joined in, lifting a handful of chips instead. The sight made you smile softly before you could stop yourself.

He noticed you watching him. In the background, conversation buzzed, someone laughed loudly, but for a moment, it felt like the two of you were elsewhere.

“Well…” he started, swallowing nervously. You hoped he didn’t feel pressured into making conversation just because you were looking at him. Though, another thought crept in—what other reason could he have for feeling awkward? Only after a beat did you realize that you often felt that way too, for no particular reason. That was just how you were. Apparently, so was he.

“What did you do before?” he asked, then immediately backtracked. “I mean, I know what, of course I know—that’s public information, if you know what I mean. I just meant more like…” He sighed, lowering his gaze for a second, as if exhausted by his own rambling. Then, he tried again, slower this time. “I meant, how do you feel about it? And about the change?”

His question piqued the interest of the others, their gazes shifting back to you. Whatever had momentarily set the two of you apart from the group vanished in an instant.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, a sound cut through the conversation.

“That’s mine, sorry,” Prentiss apologized, reaching into her pocket for her ringing phone. She didn’t even glance at the screen at first, her thumb already poised to decline the call—until she hesitated. Her expression shifted in an instant, lighting up with surprise. “Oh my God, it’s JJ!”

Everyone reacted similarly, and you tried to mirror their excitement, summoning a smile to your face—though it lacked sincerity. It wasn’t out of any personal dislike toward Jareau; nothing like that. You had met her, of course—you were taking her place, after all, and she had to introduce you to everything quickly. But it hadn’t been enough to form a deep friendship, or any friendship at all. That made you the only one in this group who felt completely neutral about her.

“Oh, you have to answer,” Penelope urged, nodding enthusiastically. “Totally. And tell her I say hi!”

“And me,” Spencer and Morgan added almost simultaneously.

“From all of us,” Hotch clarified, with Rossi confirming it with a nod.

Prentiss stood from her seat, clearly intending to step out of the kitchen to take the call in private—it was meant for her, after all. But just before she left, she hesitated in the doorway, as if mentally going over the instructions.

“Say hi from everyone. Got it,” she muttered under her breath.

“Especially from Penelope.”

“And from—”

“Everyone. Got it.”

When Prentiss’ dark hair disappeared from view, a brief silence settled over the group, broken only by Garcia’s deep sigh.

“I miss her. A lot.”

“It’s not like she died, babygirl,” Derek responded with a teasing edge, though something in his tone—between the words—carried a similar feeling.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” Garcia huffed at him. “I miss having her with us. At work. In the team. Remember…remember how she always used to…”

She drifted into a story, weaving nostalgic but ultimately amused expressions onto her friends’ faces. You caught a glimpse of Spencer out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he still remembered the question he had asked you before the phone rang. But his gaze was fixed on Garcia, listening to her tale with a small smile forming at the corners of his lips.

You tuned out for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, only to be pulled back to reality by an outburst of laughter. You had missed a good chunk of the story—though you weren’t sure if it mattered. Some anecdotes, especially the ones built on shared memories, were meant for everyone’s ears but truly reached only those who had been there. You suspected this was one of them, but still, you joined in on the laughter. Even if you hadn’t caught the joke, you didn’t want to dampen the mood with a blank expression.

You tried to push away the feeling of not belonging. It was difficult at first, but then you realized—that wasn’t the way. You couldn’t push it away; you had to accept it. Because the truth was, you didn’t quite belong. Or rather, you hadn’t belonged long enough. That was natural. You would feel this way for who knows how long, but certainly for a while. As long as the nickname New Girl still clung to you.

Surprisingly, that very acceptance made the rest of the evening easier to get through. Prentiss returned after a while, briefly summarizing what JJ had been up to, but the conversation didn’t linger on her. The knot in your stomach didn’t tighten again. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was something else. Maybe, for the first time, you were starting to feel okay.

*

now 

You recalled that specific moment in your memories, simultaneously sinking into it as if it were happening in real time, yet with the suffocating weight of reality breathing down your neck—a voice whispering that it was just a memory.

If it were happening now, Emily wouldn’t have left the room to take the call. No phone would have even rung. Emily was gone. You had just been to her funeral.

At an hour when most people were deep in sleep, when street advertisements and billboards cut through the darkness, illuminating the city more effectively than the stars ever could, you were half-sitting, half-lying on your bed, your back pressed against the headboard. The dark room was filled with nothing but shapes, mere outlines of furniture—just like your mind was filled only with fragments and silhouettes of thoughts. Frayed, scattered, following no chronology or pattern.

It had been six months since you joined the BAU. Some might say that’s not enough time to form real friendships. But in a job where you could die any day, six months was plenty. In those circumstances, attachment only formed faster.

Your eyelids burned with exhaustion, but you couldn’t close them. With a heavy weight in your chest, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you kept replaying that moment—that evening at Rossi’s. Those conversations echoed vividly in your mind, but over time, they began to fade, pushed aside by another sound.

Breathing.

Not yours.

Oh. Right.

That night, you didn’t sleep alone.

While you sat on the bed, Spencer lay on his side, his back turned to you, his head resting somewhere near your hip. You weren’t sure how it had happened.

Sleeping in the same bed wasn’t something natural for the two of you—not as just friends. Though over the past two months, that label might have been debatable in the eyes of many. You had never really defined it between yourselves, so you kept calling it friendship.

You weren’t exactly sure how it had happened that night, specifically. After the funeral, after that entire exhausting day, when the sun had set, you had somehow, instinctively, ended up moving in the same direction—toward his apartment. And somehow, instinctively, you had kept postponing the moment of leaving. But when it finally came, his lips had somehow, instinctively, formed the word stay.

So you stayed, changing out of your funeral attire into one of his random T-shirts, the scent of it tickling your nose as you finally lay down, your back turned to him.

You knew he wasn’t asleep either, but what could you say? What could you do? In moments like these, everyone was alone in their own way. Maybe that was why it was so important to have someone there, physically—but even that didn’t quite apply to your situation. His bed wasn’t huge, but it was big enough that neither of you touched. So, in a way, you were alone in both senses, but it didn’t sting as much, mostly because of the scent surrounding you, wrapping around you like an embrace.

You even managed to close your eyes—not that it meant you’d actually sleep. In fact, you felt just as far from it as when they were wide open. At least they didn’t burn anymore.

At some point—after an amount of time you couldn’t track—the scent deepened, became stronger. You tensed, unsure why, until it finally dawned on you with a quiet exhale.

It wasn’t just the scent of his T-shirt. It was him.

Moving closer.

First just slightly, then more. Until eventually, his arm draped over your curled-up frame, his hand settling somewhere against your stomach, where the fabric of the blanket bunched up. 

A delicate tickle against your neck. His breath, his head almost nestled in the crook of it.

Definitely awake—you could tell by the rhythm.

And it was him. Spencer.

It’s actually safer to kiss Spencer.

"Are you awake?" he asked, so quietly the words barely brushed the air. There was a chance they hadn’t even spoken at all. Maybe it was just the sound of his breath, somehow resembling them. Maybe it was just your exhausted imagination.

Still, you chose to answer.

"No," you murmured. "I can't sleep."

"Me neither," he added, though that much was obvious. A shift of his head, an unconscious brush against your neck, sending the faintest shiver down your spine. “Does this bother you?"

"It’s nice," you said softly, unsure of what else you could add. You didn’t really want to speak. His words melted smoothly into the quiet, while yours cut through it—harsh, even when you tried to whisper.

Maybe he took it as hesitation, because his body tensed for a brief second before he started to pull away.

"No…" You tried to stop him, your hand catching his forearm—the one holding you. "Just…stay."

"Oh. Okay."

As if following your request to the letter, he stayed exactly where he was. More than that, he seemed to settle into it even further. The pressure of his chest against your back felt good. You heard him swallow, close to your ear. “Th-thank you. I don’t think…I don’t think I could—I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep alone. Not tonight.”

You didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you just adjusted your grip, holding it more comfortably.

*

And just when you were starting to come to terms with it, you suddenly found out that Emily was still alive. You could say she had never died, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Well, in a way, yes—her body never stopped functioning, nor was it buried in a coffin. But in your minds, in your belief, in your feelings, it was different. You buried her and went through the grieving process. To you, she was dead.

When she reappeared, everything was too chaotic to dwell on it. There was no shock, no tears—you had your hands full, focused on capturing Doyle.

The realization of it all began to sink in for you, as well as for the rest of the team, only later. She had faked her death. She had allowed you to mourn her. And what was even more shocking to you—JJ had known all along. You knew the two of them trusted each other deeply, but in some way, you couldn't grasp it. How she could stand beside you at the funeral, shedding a few tears, offering comforting pats on the back. How she could keep up the act for days, weeks, and months.

You knew Spencer was furious with her. It was obvious—the anger was clear in his eyes. But even if he had tried to hide it, you would have known. Because ever since Emily's supposed death, the two of you had grown even closer.

Nights spent side by side had become something that no longer required a quiet request; they had become entirely natural for you both. That was how you saw it—a way for two friends to cope with grief and sleepless hours.

You probably should have talked about your relationship. It was something you thought about often—when his sleepy breath brushed against your neck, when his lips occasionally grazed it while he spoke. You should have talked, but that didn’t mean you did.

Maybe you were both too focused on other things to worry about your feelings for each other.

Either way, at first, he was furious with her. You accidentally overheard part of their argument about it, just as you were also an accidental witness to the embrace they pulled each other into when they finally decided to let it go.

A certain skepticism lingered within you. Of course, you didn’t want to dictate whom he could forgive or what he was allowed to demand—that was his decision alone. You understood that. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were the one who had watched what those past months had done to him. How close he had come to slipping back into that. 

When his relationship with JJ had finally returned to normal, you couldn’t hold back anymore—you tried to bring it up.

All you got in response was You wouldn’t understand.

And perhaps he was right. Some things simply weren’t yours to understand—not as someone who had only recently entered his life. Unlike JJ, you hadn’t been there for years.

As they quickly rebuilt their trust, their dynamic, their friendship, a strange, somber thought crossed your mind. You started wondering if, from the very beginning, you had only been filling the space she left behind—just as you had done with the team, stepping into her role.

Before, you had convinced yourself that his friendship with her was entirely different from what he had with you. Because with you, you had foolishly believed, it wasn’t just friendship.

But the more time passed, the more you started to realize that maybe—maybe that had only ever been wishful thinking.

These were the kind of worries you kept entirely to yourself, but at the same time, they gnawed at you from the inside, needing to be shared with someone.

You wanted to talk to someone about it, but there was no one to turn to. I mean, everything was the same as always. Everyone loved JJ—they never stopped—and you were the new, younger girl who might have seemed like she was speaking badly about her out of pure, immature jealousy.

Until now, aside from Spencer, the person you were closest to was Prentiss, but for obvious reasons, you couldn’t go to her. Besides, she would have chosen JJ over you too. That was undeniable.

And that’s how, somehow, you ended up standing outside Penelope’s office, telling yourself that maybe she would understand.

But just as you were about to open the door, doubt crept in. You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. Maybe, when it came to this, there was simply no one on the team you could turn to.

You abandoned the idea entirely, yet your feet refused to move. There was so much internal, mental exhaustion weighing you down. So many sleepless nights, so much stress and worry, so much uncertainty and so many questions.

You heard footsteps approaching. Turning your head to the side, you saw Hotch stopping just two steps away from you. For a moment, he simply looked at you in silence, studying your face.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," you replied flatly. You couldn’t breathe properly. You already knew—had known the moment he stopped—that he wasn’t here to ask about how you were feeling.

"Just tired."

He gave a slow nod.

"I need to have a word with you."

Pressing your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you nodded back.

*

You didn’t actually keep many personal things in the office.

You made sure the rest of the team had been sent out into the field before you started packing them into a small box. They fit easily—it wasn’t even heavy. And yet, as you stared at it sitting on your desk, it felt impossibly difficult to lift.

You guessed flawlessly what Hotch wanted to talk to you about because, in a way, it was obvious.

JJ was back. Emily was back. The team had too many members now, and someone had to go. And the choice was just as obvious.

Honestly, you weren’t even angry. It had to be you—the placeholder.

But if you were aware of that, why did something bitter nest in your throat?      

Before you could take even two steps forward toward the exit, Spencer had already reached you, hesitantly extending his hands.

 "Let me help—"

 "No need," you said, tucking the box under your arm, keeping it out of his reach.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other in silence. You had no idea what to say. In fact, it was hard to even look at him. That was why you wanted to do this alone—to just leave quietly. You didn't even know why he was there. You must have miscalculated something, or maybe they had simply come back earlier.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he, too, remained silent. Walking past him now would signal anger, resentment—but that wasn’t exactly what you felt. So you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

"You're leaving," he finally said, swallowing hard. A statement of fact he could have easily left unsaid. Adjusting the box in your arms, you simply nodded.

"I mean—what I wanted to say is… just remember that you're my friend. And I hope you still will be, even…even if we’re not working together. This doesn’t really change anything."

But if you hadn’t worked together, you never would have met. Never would have grown close. Besides, it wasn’t even the job that had stood in your way. It was something else—something simpler, because it depended only on the two of you, yet for that very reason, it was also much more complicated. Specifically, communication.

"I know," you admitted with a slight nod, though without much conviction.

Spencer tried to smile, briefly catching your gaze—one you immediately dropped to the box in your hands before he could read anything from your eyes.

"I have to go now. This is starting to get a little heavy."

"You know, I can really help you—"

"It's fine," you cut him off firmly. "It's really fine, Spencer."

He let out a quiet sigh of surrender as you headed toward the exit.

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

Ladonb Kokosa (TikTok account, LOTS of great videos )

Giving the mouthwashing characters what they deserve (TikTok)

Zest for life

How I think the Tulpar crew would make YT videos

Some recovered Curly art

Edit: I am no longer seeking out these posts, and new ones will only be added if I’m tagged or such

[kazehita]

A guide to rp by a guy who never ever thought they’d do rp. (They’re also still pretty bad at it.)

- steal rping friends from your other friends

- be cringe be free but maybe don’t infodump all your character’s cringe all at once (save it for the coolest and most relevant moments)

- generally try and feed information overtime anyway just so that your cool oc facts can permeate your friend’s brain membranes better

- design your character with gaps for other people’s characters to fill

- design and redesign your character with contrast in mind (relative to other’s characters)

- if two ppls characters end up kind of similar anyway make it a cool twinsies thing instead of feeling threatened. And then invent some cool contrast anyway, like making the ocs irked by eachother because of the similarities! Many ideas can come from here.

- propose new concepts/interactions as a hypothetical (bonus points if you elegantly include an “out” in case the friend isn’t into it)

- do not outright shoot down your friend’s concept/idea/interaction. “No, no they wouldn’t do that” <- bad!!!!!!!!! Makes people feel bad. Instead, try to use a part if their suggestion in a way that still makes you vibe; “oh, maybe they would do that if x situation happened to them.” Or “x character doesn’t want to and xyz hijinks ensue!” <- yay!! Turn on your brain. There is always a way.

- never assume your friend is okay with rping challenging and dark topics with you even if you see them having them with someone else

- also don’t lead with challenging/dark topics if you can help it… The topic will also be more fun anyway if there’s buildup and contrast?

- Important: let people have their special and cool moments!!! Its hard I know!!! I also want everything to be about me!!! you have to fight the instinct. Its so important. At least tell your friend its cool and awesome and awesome and let them hog the conversation for a bit. After they’ve had their time in the spotlight you can yap about how cool it is if your oc did that too.

- its okay if you just don’t click with another persons for rp purposes. If y’all aren’t on the same page about a lot if things it will just be a struggle the whole time

- if you super click with someone for rp purposes remember that it usually isn’t worth sacrificing sleep especially if you got something important in the morning

[zeroseuniverse]

Hi ! Can i request (if you’re comfortable with it ofc) autistic reader with seventeen? :)

Ofc I'm totally down to write it but I'd also like to remind readers that Autism is a spectrum and not always the exact same for everyone, There are also varying types so please don't jump down my throat if you think I did badly portraying it it's based off of my psych research I had

Seventeen with an Autistic Partner

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

Navigation

S.COUPS

Headcanon: He’s protective without being overbearing. He learns your patterns fast—how your tone might not always match your feelings, how you stim when excited or anxious, and how eye contact isn’t everything. Scenario: When the room gets loud and overstimulating, you give him one look. That’s all it takes. He weaves through the crowd with you gently in tow, finds a quieter room, and wraps you in his hoodie. “You don’t have to talk. I’ll sit with you till it feels better.”

JEONGHAN

Headcanon: Teases you a lot, but always with that rare kind of affection that says I get you. He notices what makes you tick and loves it. Scenario: You infodump about your special interest for an hour. He pretends to be overwhelmed dramatically, flopping back on the couch, but the smile on his face is so genuine. “Okay, professor, tell me more. I’m learning so much. I’m your #1 student.”

JOSHUA

Headcanon: The kind who researches everything—he reads about autism, stimming, sensory overload, masking. He asks questions, not to fix anything, just to know you better. Scenario: When he gets you a weighted blanket and a pair of noise-reducing headphones “just in case,” your eyes widen. “I thought maybe they’d help on the bad days. But only if you want them.” He doesn’t expect a thank you—just curls up beside you, pinkies linked.

JUN

Headcanon: He doesn’t question your habits—he just adopts them. You flap your hands when happy? He starts doing it with you. You use scripts sometimes? He memorizes your favorite ones. Scenario: You’re pacing in a loop, nonverbal, after a hard day. He says nothing, just walks beside you, mimicking your pace. Eventually, you let out a breath, and he nudges your shoulder. “No rush. I like walking with you.”

HOSHI

Headcanon: Hyper attuned to your moods. His emotional intuition + your honesty = unmatched duo. He’ll always match your energy—chaotic when you need joy, soft when you need silence. Scenario: You stim by bouncing and tapping things, and he turns it into a game—matching rhythms with you on tables, fingers, legs. “Is this your new song?” he grins, joining in. “We’re making the next Seventeen hit.”

WONWOO

Headcanon: A quiet rock. You never have to perform with him. He’s calm, stable, and never makes you feel weird for needing things to be just so. Scenario: You’re meal prepping the same food for the third week in a row. “You never get tired of this?” he asks, curious. When you explain the routine comforts you, he just smiles, slicing vegetables like it’s the most natural answer in the world. “Then let’s make extra.”

WOOZI

Headcanon: Understands what it’s like to be in your head too much. He’s focused, sometimes blunt, and doesn’t expect you to fit into anyone’s mold. Scenario: You struggle to express your feelings aloud, so you send him playlists. He never questions it. “This one’s intense,” he says one day, listening with a soft expression. “Is that how your heart sounds when you think of me?” You nod. He covers his face, grinning. “Shit, I’m keeping this one forever.”

DK (SEOKMIN)

Headcanon: Pure sunshine, but he never forces you to be “on.” He’ll fill the space with laughter when needed—or sit in companionable silence when that’s what helps. Scenario: You tell him you don’t always understand jokes or sarcasm. His response? “Then I’ll make my jokes twice as funny—once with the joke, and once with the explanation.” Cue him doing a bit, pausing dramatically, and saying, “So that was a pun. Did it land?”

MINGYU

Headcanon: Clumsy, but so eager to learn and support. He worries sometimes he’s messing up, but he’s always trying. Scenario: You freeze in a crowd, overwhelmed. He instinctively steps in front of you, blocking out the chaos. “Hey. Just me now.” He kneels a little to meet your eyes gently—not pressuring eye contact, just letting you know he’s there. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”

THE8 (MINGHAO)

Headcanon: Deeply patient and spiritual. He respects your boundaries without needing explanations. Scenario: You mention a certain texture feels “wrong” and Minghao never buys clothes in that fabric again. Later, he gifts you a robe made of your favorite material. “Soft things for someone soft-hearted,” he murmurs. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

SEUNGKWAN

Headcanon: Expressive and attentive. He’ll advocate for you, even when you’re not there. If someone’s being rude or dismissive? He’s shutting it down immediately. Scenario: You go nonverbal at a dinner with friends. Seungkwan notices, smoothly takes over the conversation, and makes sure you’re never left out or made to feel strange. Later, he squeezes your hand. “You okay, love?” You nod. “Good. You did so well.”

VERNON

Headcanon: So chill that he makes you feel calm by proximity. He’s never pushy, never performative. He gets needing space. Scenario: When you struggle to express a meltdown coming on, he sits with you in your favorite dark room, backs to the wall, headphones on. You both listen to the same ambient track on loop. “No pressure to talk. Just vibe.” It becomes your go-to safe space.

DINO

Headcanon: Curious and open-minded. If you ever feel self-conscious about a stim or trait, he mirrors it so you feel less alone. Scenario: You bounce your leg during a movie night. Dino starts bouncing his, too. When you pause, he shrugs. “We’re in sync.” Later, he asks, “Wanna teach me more about how your brain works? I wanna know all the parts you think are weird. They’re my favorites.”

[raileurta]

The sparkeater!human designs are such good body language inspo. I could definitely see an irritated “messenger” flicking their spiky tail like a cat as a threat, or any of them just wrapping themselves up in their wings to “loaf” on their favourite bot (said bot would probably be panicked as hell if their loaf spot was just a little too close to their chassis).

I like to think that the option for organic food is a major component towards self control compared to cybertronian spark eaters, so now the bots are just memorising all the drive thru’s in town specifically to avoid them getting cravings lol

It’d also be a fun idea that whenever they do start craving a spark they form a habit of chewing on metal to mimic the action of breaking past someone’s chassis to get to a spark without actually hunting a bot down. This is also a good indicator for when you gotta start taking them to get burgers or something before Miko actually tries to slip away and catch a con off guard. (Maybe other behaviours act as indicators too! like switching from nose smelling to tongue smelling because they’re subconsciously trying to track).

I can also imagine the cons also trying to get scary dog privileges like the bots, but their plan just backfires and they choose to let their sparkeater!human escape (because otherwise they’d be trapped with a sparkeater!human who is fully aggro at the cons for kidnapping them) which is how unicron gets the first sparkeater to find him in years. (Rip random vehicon no.420 used to create the sparkeater!human).

As for the thirteen aspects of chaos, the main one would be that everything can always happen once. Maybe not twice, maybe not regularly, but it will always happen once. I think freedom would be one of the more positive aspects of chaos. Order has rules. Typically they’re good rules that are understandable, but there are some pointless rules and bad rules too.

If I’m ever like….being annoying with these infodumps please tell me lol, I don’t wanna be too intrusive or anything.

Unless I state otherwise everyone should assume any creature I make is cat-coded. So I'm definitely seeing the vision here.

I'm imagining Raf un-intentionally making Ratchet extremely nervous because he liked laying on his chassis. He totally didn't realize what he was doing but once he did he was very apologetic. He now sleeps in Ratchet's neck crook. Miko on the other hand doesn't have this problem as she's the type of cat person to sleep on your face. Bulkhead doesn't need to breathe so he's not in danger of suffocating and plus he finds this really cute.

Every autobot now has “emergency snacks” on them just in case. There's also now a small kitchen in the human area packed full with lots of food. The kids can't really complain as they love all the free food but they do feel slightly guilty. The autobots would soothe them of any concerns they have; this for their comfort and everyone’s safety.

I'm just picturing Miko chewing up the railings in the base and Ratchet getting mad at her for it. 😂 Some of the other signs of them needing food could be nibbling on their hands, looking at a bot’s chest a little too long, pacing, and flicking out their tongues a lot. They do have tons of metal ball things in the base to help with this. Fowler has also given them lots of money to help with the food bill. The autobots could have and maybe theoretically already did hack easily into some big businesses to get their human money; they do appreciate the gesture however.

Since Miko now has wings it's basically impossible to keep her from the ground bridge and or running off so they have decided to get her one of those backpack leashes. She is very annoyed by this but it has been extremely successful so they aren't getting rid of it.

I think they did this with Jack. Megatron being Megatron wanted to use one of the autobots’ “pets” for emotional damage, he was completely convinced he could manipulate Jack to their side.

That obviously doesn't happen.

They had to force feed him a spark and being the decent person he is was very mad and disgusted by this. He escapes the prison they had kept him in then proceeds to terrorize the whole ship. The part of Megatron's mind that hadn't been totally corroded by dark energon was aware enough to know how fucked of this situation this was. He has Soundwave ground bridge him into a volcano which happened to be the one full of dark energon. Jack somehow manages not to be melted but he was blasted by tons of dark energon radiation. Once he passed out from the various severe burns he had gotten Jack and Unicron meet in his dreams.

“Creation. Once chosen by the last discipline of prime, now I shall take you for myself.” Unicorn says as he looms over Jack. The devourer had desired the “pink one” but this human shall work as well.

Jack once again being a decent person he is doesn't want to be involved in any of this. He knows how evil Unicron is (he's getting better but Jack doesn't know that) so he obviously refuses. Unicron doesn't care if Jack wants it or not so Jack becomes a messenger. He would represent the freedom that's in chaos. It's deliciously ironic as he's sort of a mini Optimus, the mech who is the poster child of freedom.

Trust me you're not being annoying. I love getting long asks like this, it gives me life.

Edit: Forgot to add this was beta read by @a-non-ymouswriter

[boiled-ginger-ale]

Talk about the scp, infodump pls ♡

-🐁

ok so i dont have designs for everyone yet and i dont really know who should be scientists vs not but i do know that etho is a bug because he deserves it.

boi needs four arms and buggy hands and too many eyes and a weird sort of carapace because hes a freak and deserves to be visually just as fucked up/affectionate

i think he and bdubs share an enclosure because they are more cooperative when around eachother and the facility likes that it doesn't have to waste space on an extra container. they're pretty closely monitored tho, just in case, although its generally accepted that etho would never hurt his cellmate.

although, there have been a few incidents where bdubs has mysteriously disappeared from containment despite none of the security being tampered with- he always seems to vanish just when no one is watching the cameras, but by the time a security team is alerted and reaches the cell, bdubs is right back where they left him. no one can figure out how he keeps vanishing, and the tapes cant find anything strange either. //although the moss thing is suspiciously more... damp.. when he reappears//

am i implying something? maybe/// you have no proof tho-

[chalkrevelations]

So listen, I'm just going to be upfront about it and say that I was overall disappointed by 1.10 of The Pitt, and I'm going to talk about that some, and it isn't all going to be about Langdon's storyline, because I was making faces at my screen before that even happened ... but a lot of it is going to be about that storyline.

A caveat up front, of course: Langdon should not have been stealing fucking drugs and potentially coming to work high and endangering his patients, although we'll never know for sure if he did or didn't use at work, since he was booted out without a urine tox screen, thanks a lot, Robby. Also, Jesus Christ, Dr. Hypocrite, I don't actually have any personal experience in this type of situation, but I'm pretty sure 98.35% of your behavior toward Langdon did not comply with Just Culture in cases of medication diversion. All you needed was a match, and you'd'a been Angela Bassett in Waiting to Exhale.

Anyway. I've been pretty impressed with the show so far, barring a couple of spots where they fell down (including the mandatory reporter thing, wt-actual-f), including the way they've utilized the teaching framework to make their infodumps sound natural, but they did not manage that well a couple of times in this ep. Given that both instances are areas where I have some specialized knowledge and background, maybe that affected how the scenes came across to me, but there are two places in particular that just hit me wrong:

The back-and-forth between Mel and Samira about treatment on the stroke patient - not the initial assessment, which I almost had to laugh about simply because it was so familiar, but the treatment plan and how to proceed with the patient. It came across as extremely "as-you-know-Bob" infodump-y, and I don't know how much of that was the acting, how much the directing, how much the writing.

The blatant PSA on workplace violence against nurses. Which, fantastic! More people should know why my overwhelming response is a contemptuous "Uh-huh, yeah, you want to compare stats on actual injuries?" when I hear police officers whine about feeling unsafe as an excuse for whatever excessive use of force they've indulged in on any given day. The show hit the mark really well with Dana's response to the assault, which was uncomfortably familiar. The nurses listing their incidents of injury to the med students also came off OK. But the dialogue of the nurses when they're talking about it to Robby? Again, very infodump-y. This ep did a lot better when it was showing-not-telling.

Which leads me into the way Langdon's reactions to seeing Santos talking to Robby felt overdone in a way that was almost comedic, and which certainly led me to believe, oh, wow, they actually are setting this up as a red herring. Or maybe this is just bad writing or direction, or something - the way those previous scenes were. At any rate, ha-ha, we've watched these reactions that are kind of over-the-top, and I guess that was supposed to make us think he was diverting meds, only it's going to turn out that he wasn't ... and then no, all that happened.

So, I dislike the way they've chosen to play this storyline, and it makes me less trusting of what they're going to do with it going forward. I don't want to be mad at this show, but they have set things up in a way that it's going to be very easy for this show to make me mad at it.

Lemme be clear: I'm not surprised by this storyline. Med diversion is a big problem in healthcare - JCAHO estimates, what? up to 10% of healthcare staff? - so it was inevitable that we were going to get an addiction story in a show that prides itself on its verisimilitude, even if it's already well-trodden ground. And unless they waited until season 2 (which, imo, they should have at least) and then set season 2 during a shift three years in the future, of course it was going to be Langdon. I've seen multiple people talk about how clever this decision was, because of how it makes the audience question their own implicit biases about the clean-cut white guy (as if there wasn't a massively popular show that ran for eight seasons featuring a titular character who was a drug-addicted white guy doctor), but let's be real - Langdon was always their safest choice. You do this storyline with someone in 75 percent of the rest of their cast, and you risk pulling in other issues and stereotypes that accrete onto your message. Of the remaining (white) cast: McKay is already involved in the carceral system; Whitaker is too new to be believably able to figure out how to divert any meds at this point; if you use Dana, you're re-treading Nurse Jackie; if you use Robby you're re-treading House, not to mention Dr. Carter (although, god knows, Robby would be plausible, given his erratic behavior, short temper, and literal flashbacks). Am I forgetting someone? Who am I forgetting? (ETA: omg, it's Mel. I forgot Mel.) Anyway, when you line up your safe choices, Langdon is the one who makes the most sense out of all of them. And I'm not opposed to the storyline. Med diversion is an actual, real-life problem, and it opens up a lot of character possibilities that I hope they actually explore - including the completely inappropriate way Robby handled it.

(Speaking of which, was that Princess wheeling No-Egg-Salad guy past the confrontation, and who Robby screamed at as collateral damage? It was Princess, wasn't it? Because if I was writing the show, I'd sure make something out of the fact that apparently the same staff member who saw that confrontation was also the one making the "WTF are you lying about?" face at Santos when Santos lied to Langdon's face about the decision-making process for MDMA Seizure Girl's treatment.)

Anyway, I don't even mind that Frank "Safe Choice" Langdon was the one who TPTB decided to pin this on. What I do mind is that it's Santos - who's been in this ED and interacted with Langdon for all of nine hours, 8.75 hours of which have been acrimonious, who got to figure it all out and finger him for it. My concern about sterotypes and implicit biases, at this point, is that on both Watsonian and Doylist levels, Langdon - and his very, very correct assessment and concerns about Santos' behavior - will be written off, both within the narrative and metatextually, because now he's a thieving drug addict. Because nothing he told Robby about Santos was wrong - she's a bully who's been repeatedly unpleasant to the med students below her on the ladder; she does not follow safety protocols designed to protect her, her patients or her co-workers; and her cowboy attitude has literally almost killed at least one patient so far, not even a full shift in. We as the audience also know that she'll lie to her senior resident's face and threaten patients, which Langdon doesn't even know (yet). So I'm going to be mad if this show tries to tell me that I haven't seen things that I have actually seen with my own eyes, and it tries to retcon her behavior or flush it down the memory hole. My trust is tenuous at this point. It would be much stronger if almost anyone other than Santos had been the one to bring this forward.

tbh, if I was going to insist on doing a take on the drug diversion storyline in the first shift/season - which I still think was a bad idea this soon - I'd have made it Mel who figured it out. And who then had to work through what she was going to do about this mentor who she had such a great, supportive relationship with, but who was apparently stealing drugs and endangering patients. How would she figure it out? How would she work through it? Who would she go to about it? And what would her conversation with Langdon look like - because you know she would have had to talk to him about it, at some point.

[tankycinna]

Thank you for the suggestion! I love smashing my autisms together. Wanna see me go crazy go stupid? Cute little infodump under the cut!

So I actually put more thought into this than you would think.

Zoro is a warrior, obviously, so I dressed him up like Hikari (but I green'd the outfit because Zoro looked weird in all red.) His daytime Path Action would be Challenge and his nighttime one would be... probably Ambush? The rest don't really fit for him in my opinion.

Sanji was more difficult because there's no job equivalent to "cook" in the Octopath roster for now. My friend suggested Apothecary because they have a sort of "crafting" ability with Concoct, but since apothecaries are doctors in lore, that felt off to me. So I settled on Merchant. His daytime Path Action would be Purchase (gotta buy ingredients to cook with), but I think his nighttime one would be Befriend. Befriend allows him to "recruit" people temporarily by giving them an item they want (which, in his case, would be food.) Anyway, he's a Merchant. So I dressed him up like Partitio, whose outfit fits Sanji super well actually? Crazy.

The reason I went with Octopath 2 job outfits is because uhhhh even though I love Olberic, his outfit is really difficult to wrap my head around. Plus Hikari's kind of fits with the style of clothing Zoro seems to tend towards after the timeskip (at least from pictures I've seen. I'm only on Little Garden.) And since I was going with Hikari's fit for Zoro, I just picked Partitio for Sanji. He gets to wear Partitio's silly little fedora. For fun. Partitio gets his hat from his dad if I remember correctly, so maybe Zeff gave Sanji this one.

Anyway, I'm sooooo normal about Octopath can't you tell

[terminal-doll-theatre]

I don't have whole infodumps this time bc there isn't like. a whole other character im reuiniting them with or anything gihfijok; although i am probably gonna make more buddies-

uh anyway drops the new setting clara n twins redesigns

Im messing around with their backstory and living situation stuff a little. I mentioned some of Clara's stuff in her art, but for the twins it's mostly just a case of putting things back to how they were before I put them in DoL, with them having grown up at a catholic boarding school. I think they decided to move far away from family after graduating to make the lack of contact hurt less. I aged them up a year as a result, to like. Give them time to adjust to living in a new place so they feel more established. Maybe Clara and the twins live in the same flat building... I think having them as neighbours would be funny...