#ultra famine

[c4koo]

[chronic-lee-lovesick]

WoAhhh my hand slipped-

He seems like the type to carry his partner around like a stuffed toy everywhere and have the biggest tantrum ever if any of his brothers try touching them in any kind of way or just simply telling him to leave them behind for a bit just this once lol

[vesselvindicate]

[drinksss]

horsemen with some kids

[she-is-ovarit]

Advantages to being female ("AFAB").

Biological differences in being female are often discussed negatively in order to indicate our disadvantages and where and how we are exploited within patriarchal societies.

On Ovarit, there was a thread in which users shared some biological differences to being female that illuminated our strengths. While of course biological differences in males vs. females is directly rooted in reproductive evolutionary strategy (whether someone develops down a reproductive pathway geared towards an overall reproductive system that supports gestating life and creating larger ova vs. not) I thought I would share some examples of advantages not directly connected to childbirth and childbearing. This is not an exhaustive list.

We are more flexible than male people.

We have better stamina and endurance in some extreme long-distance sports in comparison to male people (such as in ultra-marathons).

Some animals (especially other mammals such as wolves, horses, cats, etc.) are instinctively threatened by males, even if they have never been harmed by them. This is not the case with women.

We have better immune systems and survive viruses better than male people.

We survive famines and epidemics overall better than male people.

We survive variations in temperature overall better than male people.

We have better sense of smell than men.

Our chromosomes provide us with extra protection against certain genetic diseases like hemophilia, and we have more genetic diversity.

We have better balance due to our center of gravity being lower, in our pelvis's, while males have their center of gravity in their torsos. This makes us naturally better at sports like rock-climbing, gymnastics, certain martial arts, etc.

"The male fetus is at greater risk of death or damage from almost all the obstetric catastrophes that can happen before birth.2 Perinatal brain damage,3 cerebral palsy,4 congenital deformities of the genitalia and limbs, premature birth, and stillbirth are commoner in boys,5 and by the time a boy is born he is on average developmentally some weeks behind his sister: “A newborn girl is the physiological equivalent of a 4 to 6 week old boy.”

Women and girls have better color perception than males.

Multiple orgasms.

We're biologically better suited to being astronauts and living in space (note: and this was discovered 15 years ago yet this work was never published)

Some articles (debatable on credibility) suggest that we are better able to withstand complete sensory deprivation for several hours in comparison to men, who were able to withstand complete sensory deprivation for minutes.

For unknown reasons, we do not experience the same percentage of macular degeneration that men do in space.

We have a different adrenaline response. Our hormone systems work differently and so we do not lose as much decision making ability and fine motor control as men do in a crisis, making us better snipers and pilots thanks to our reaction time.

We have better life expectancy overall.

[queerism1969]

Atrocity created by CAPITALISM

Irish Famine (1845-1852)

Indian Famines during British colonial rule (Various, 18th-20th centuries)

Indigenous Genocide (Ongoing since colonization)

Slavery (16th-19th centuries)

Indonesian Genocide (1965-1966)

Pinochet Dictatorship (1973-1990)

Argentina Dictatorship (1976-1983)

Brazilian Dictatorship (1964-1985)

Pakistan Incident (Bangladesh Genocide, 1971)

The Gilded Age (Late 19th century)

The Great Depression (1929-1939)

Operation Condor (1960s-1980s)

Banana Wars (Early 20th century)

Batista Dictatorship (1952-1959)

Guantanamo Bay (Ongoing since 2002)

Vietnam War (1955-1975)

My Lai Massacre (1968)

Sinchon Massacre (Korean War, 1950-1953)

Kent State Massacre (1970)

Patriot Act (2001)

Red Summer (1919)

Jim Crow (Late 19th-20th centuries)

MK Ultra (1950s-1970s)

1985 MOVE bombing (1985)

1921 Battle of Blair Mountain (1921)

Malayan Emergency (1948-1960)

Mau Mau Rebellion (1952-1960)

Covert war in Yemen (Ongoing)

Stanley Meyer incident (1998)

Genocide in Turkey (Armenian Genocide and others, WWI era)

Congolese Genocide (Late 19th-20th centuries)

Greek Civil War (1946-1949)

Invasion of Cyprus by Turkey (1974)

Washita River Massacre (1868)

Minamata Disaster (1950s-1960s)

Bhopal Disaster (1984)

Kentler Project (1960s-2003)

Thomas Midgley Jr. and leaded gasoline (Early 20th century)

Forced labor in private US prisons (Ongoing)

Collateral murder in Iraq (2010)

Julian Assange and leaks (Ongoing)

US drone strikes (Ongoing)

US sanctions (Ongoing)

US support for dictatorships (Ongoing)

Korean War and civilian casualties (Korean War, 1950-1953)

Nazi funding and collaboration (WWII era)

Hitler and "Judeo-Bolshevism" (WWII era)

[shini--chan]

Can i req yandere sheet: attributes,flight, punisment for canada and russia?

Yandere Character Sheet I

1p Russia - Ivan Braginski

This is probably something I should have said before, but better late than never. Some of you might be inclined to voice your political opinions - with this I politely ask you to refrain from doing so. This has nothing to do with my own political stances and everything to do with this not being a politics blog. If somebody does decide to air their political opinions in the comments or ask box, it will be deleted without prior warning or further ado. Freedom of expression also means freedom to not express my opinions which is why politics will never be discussed on this blog. 

Also, only whole Character Sheets may be requested!

Trigger warning: isolation, hyperthermia, hunting (with you as the prey), murder, disposal of corpses, controlling behaviour, manipulation, hints of survival horror, neglect, implied physical abuse

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

Ivan is ultimately possessive. He has been lonely for so long, unable to connect with other people on a deep emotional level for so long. Therefore, when he has you in his grasp, you can be assured that he'll never let you go. Why should he, when you are his happiness? In the end, it isn't very important to him to know everything there is to you, as long as you are at his side (Though, that doesn't mean that he isn't curious about you). 

If there is one defining thing about him, it is that he is unpredictable. He is a land of contradictions, the ultra rich live close to the dirt poor, with warm summers and hellishly cold winters - it is something that also reflects in his demeanour. He can be cultured - leading you out to theatre plays and ballets, visiting art museums and cuddling on the sofa at night and reading the classics with you. Or he could drag you along on a hunting trip, where the two of you have to live off the land for a few weeks. The ballroom or the heavy metal concert in the cellar of an old factory. It thus extends to his more unhealthy behaviour where he can maintain a stoic appearance for long, only for the emotions to concentrate into something more intense and then bubble over. It could often catch you unawares. 

This is only amplified by the fact that he tends to humour the misconceptions that many people have about him. After all, if they base their actions on stereotypes and fantasies, then it means they'll underestimate him, and he'll have the upper hand and wipe the floor with them. 

Aside from that, he is also very persistent. Russian winters are long and harsh, and additionally, Ivan has learned through his own history that nothing good ever comes easily. As such, he definitely wouldn't be dissuaded if you'd throw obstacles in his path. If anything, he would find it amusing that you think him so weak. So, no matter how far you run, no matter how much time passes, he won't forget you; all you can hope is that he'll lose interest or something else will take up the majority of his attention for a lengthy amount of time. 

He can also be surprisingly astute and attentive to you, and this can be to your advantage as much as it can be to your disadvantage. Advantageous in that be can be very considerate - offering his jacket, or buying you presents that you like. It is also where his obsessive nuances would come to the fore and he would be so eager to please and pamper you. 

The flip side of this coin is tied in with his paranoia. Having lived under countless occupations, regimes and suffered through rebellions and revolutions, plagues and famines, he would constantly be on the lookout for signs of betrayal. He is the sort to always look at his bedroom door before turning in and take keen note of people on the edges of his vision. Applied to you, that means he'll keep a very close eye on you if he thinks that you are being … disagreeable. There is the temptation to keep you under lock and key, but he knows that he has the best chance of catching you if it is in the middle of the act and if you are completely unaware of his suspicions. 

There is also the matter that he has the proclivity to be very harsh. After the life he has lived, the bloodshed he has witnessed and even partook in at times, it is difficult to faze him. Thus, his interpretation of what is hurtful or even traumatising is severely different than that of other people, thanks to his blood soaked frame of reference. While he is aware of this, it still would often happen that he would scoff and label you or other people fragile when tears are shed about genuinely hurtful things. Naturally, this further influences how he treats you - varying from being too harsh with his punishments to then treating you like a fragile doll that would need toughening up before being allowed out without supervision.

Ivan is also patronising. Not to the extent Yao is, but still to an overtly noticeable degree. The main difference is that he bases it not at all on seniority but on having lived through interesting times aplenty. He has had to claw his way to his current position with nearly nothing given easily and everything painstakingly defended over and over again (at least that is how it is in his mind). Can you even claim to have suffered through a fraction of the tragedies he has? So heed his word since he is a more knowing and experienced person than you.

Cornering - How would they get you?

Ivan would much prefer you come to him willing. Perhaps you are charmed by his appreciation of the arts and literature - then he'll try to woo you by playing the gentleman or the daring young hussar. Maybe you met him as an attendee of heavy metal concerts, as a hunter in the steps and the woods - he'll indulge you so as well, showcasing the more savage part of himself. The point is that he'll try to pinpoint an angle from which he can hook you in, and then pull you closer. 

But soon enough, conventenal wooing wouldn't be enough for him - his "passion" would only overcome his patience and he would want to haul you in quicker. Perhaps he would orchestrate circumstances so that you would be forced to move in, or he would manipulate events that you would have to rely heavily on him. He would dissuade you from seeking out friends and family, depicting them as parasitic and unhelpful. Whatever fears and doubts you have about your other chosen company. If he has to stand against the world, then he wants it to be with you at his side. 

Though, it can just as well be that he'll have to resort to more permanent and extreme measures. At his core, he is a hunter and like any accomplished hunter, he doesn't automatically go after the weak or old - rather, it is the prized pelts of the strongest creatures he wants. The more you prevail against him, the more it will excite him. To him, catching you will be more of a game than anything else, a game of cat and mouse. If he were angry with you, it would also serve as a moral lesson. 

Then there is the matter that he likes to manipulate events so that you end up in his arms - he is calling in favours, or gently nudging circumstances to play out in his favour. When it is required, he can be very patient and act with a lot of thought. He is more the sort to plan for the long term, even if he does have bouts of impulsivity. 

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

He holds a certain ideal in his head, that he wishes you to fulfil. If you aren't really there yet, it is still fine - diamonds have to be cut and polished as well in order to achieve their brilliance. Why shouldn’t it be the same with you? Nevertheless, he has some expectations that you have to fulfil, in his eyes. 

Politeness is one of them. This doesn’t mean that he wishes you to be unfailingly appeasing and gentle and kind all the time, all no. In his eyes, it is perfectly worthy of praise and encouragement if you have sharp edges. It is simply that you have to have tact and not make any scenes in public, and know how to act appropriately in any given moment. And that when you don’t really know how you should act, or are exceptionally jittery, that you don’t make a fool of yourself. What Ivan expects is that politeness that comes from having lessons on diplomacy or etiquette, or even just a good upbringing, and not that that stems from being a doormat. 

Topping that, he wants you to be both cultured and witty. Ivan is of the opinion that you have to have a good balance of both - those that are only book smart and not street smart can be painfully entitled and self-righteous. That is something that dives into that sort of idealism that makes Ivan physically ill. He would rather not have a missionary for a spouse - they can be so hard set in their way, no room for budging and certainly no reverse gear once they start to escalate. And they are certainly of the sort that will always place any blame on him. Street smart because he would love it if you can give your own input on social situations, and relieve some of the burden from him. So that he doesn’t have to guide you through interactions, and doesn’t have to clean up any mistakes that you make. So that he can let you out of the house without having to worry. But not too street smart please, and not just that - he needs you to be able to converse on higher topics that gossip and psychology and bread prices. Book smart because it often means cultured and he wants somebody that he can share his passions with - going to the theatre, reading books on stormy nights, going on long walks and appreciating nature. 

Related to that in a way, he would loath it if you are lazy. Participate in some sort of sport, preferably of the sort that isn’t of the team variant and allows you to shine on your own. Figure skating, fencing, chess, swimming … either one, maybe even all of it. Mind and body are connected so ensuring you have a healthy body through physical exertion should help prevent your mind spiralling down to insanity while at his mercy. Be the sort that doesn't procrastinate on chores and puts effort in running a good household. 

Additionally, Russia likes people that are ambitious, be it in the practical sense of building and acting, or in the manner that poets and philosophers are. Have more intentions than to just stare at a screen and give out money. Have passion, dare to dream and crave more than what you have. Life in the weather extremes of his domain don't favour those without fire in their souls, and steel in their spines. Sink or swim, and if you don't have the discipline to cling to your dreams and not give up, then you won't survive him.

Though, don't forget him amidst all your calls and desires. He wants you to care for him, to sooth his paranoia and worries. Run him hot baths and cook the meals. Come New Year's lay all the homemade biscuits and cakes and salads on the table for a feast. Be family to him and he'll be family to him. Be caring and affectionate and playful (but carefully so) behind closed doors and stoic and proper in public.

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

Maybe, when engaging in his favourite pastime of existential dread, he would come to the conclusion that he isn't good for you; he would let you go or even deliver you to your preferred person. At times, the self-hatred does come to the fore, and makes him conclude that the wisest course of action is the one he detests the most. 

Aside from that he has dreams that are bigger than his relationship with you. If you were to threaten his dreams of empire and the securities tied with it, then he would choose his dreams over you. While he would die for you (given that he will revive) he would never sacrifice himself for you. 

Or, you could evolve into the sort of person that he detests. Of course, he would attempt to take control over the wheel and righting the course, but a lost cause is a lost cause. He would reluctantly let you go and cherish the memories he has. Though he'll do everything in his power to avoid such a scenario.

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

This is the case where he doesn't really pull any punches - though he wouldn't beat you. That is something he considers himself above and besides, common punches and kicks wouldn't even teach a dog right from wrong, so how would such methods be suited for his partner. 

Ivan views punishments as a form of re-education and it would be useless if he doesn't make it clear what lesson he is trying to impart, or if you don't learn it over the course of your chastisement. Besides, he doesn't see you as his enemy or an unruly subordinate, so why should he treat you as such? 

Thus you'll usually receive a long lecture on your misdoings - what exactly was wrong, why and how he will deal with it. And then the actual correctional actions would commence. 

In winter, he may leave you out in the cold for a few minutes, stripped of your clothing until you develop hyperthermia. Then you are forced to lay your life and wellbeing in his hands as he nurses you back to health. Besides, isn't it so romantic to have somebody save you from death's door?

In the warmer months, he would tie your hands and feet to weights and anchor you to the shoreline of a river or lake. You would be up to the chest or hips in water and he'll have you wearing either something short-sleeved or just leave you there in your underwear. That way, you would be at the mercy of the mosquitoes and insects and the creatures in the water. And at risk of getting a nasty sunburn, if you are prone to it. He would leave you for hours out there, so don't think it would be a walk in the park. If he is feeling particularly provocative, then he'll start a BBQ or do some fishing. And no, you're not getting anything to eat or drink. If you end up getting sick from drinking the water you're standing in, or eating some water plant, then he'll pump out your stomach. 

Of course there are other punishments, all along the vein of the carrot and the stick. Ivan will give you your own room during the first few years, and have it fitted to your tastes. Though, you'll only be allowed to have these if you behave yourself. The same goes for good food and beverages other than water. Should you start rebelling, then he'll start stripping away the luxuries that he has given you until only the basic necessities remain. People have had to survive on less than overcooked food and plain water, so you will just be fine. 

And don't presume that you can argue that you'll only give him respect if he shows you respect in the first place. While at his mercy, you're on the shorter end of the stick, powerless in relation to him, so you'll have to make careful and very good arguments. Also, don't even try to play at being a fixer-upper. He is not some broken clock that needs repairing, so don't try to "fix" him. Attempting to do so will push him very close to wringing your neck as one would a turkey on Christmas.

Though, above all, this isn't a poker game where he'll take bluffs and slights of hand and hollow promises with a mere scowl and some harsh words. Play him for a fool, make promises you have no intention of keeping, prove yourself to be utterly untrustworthy, then he'll make you feel sorry. Either, it will be solitary confinement for a week or two, or he'll dump you in the middle of nowhere, weeks away from any other human being. Perhaps he'll have to confine you to a sick bed afterwards. 

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

His first reaction is anger, though not of the screaming and breaking things. Rather, it is that ice cold anger that makes his blood freeze and his mind razor sharp in its focus. There is part of this wrath that is due to the disrespect you show him through running away. A good relationship relies on good communication, so why did you have to run away? Why didn't you just talk about your problems with him? Why do I have to behave like a sugar-addled brat? Perhaps he should lay you over his knee, and give you a good hiding. 

The other side to this coin is anger born out of worry. In terms of chinks in his armour, you can be considered one, and Ivan know of a great many people that would ruthlessly exploit it. And those people would care about honour, propriety or even so-called rights, not when ignoring that can get them what they want. Aside from that, you are so fragile and helpless compared to him - just how can you hope to survive the big, bad world out there? But don't worry, he knows how you feel, having been in a similar position a few times, so he'll be quick to come to the rescue.

Should it be possible, Russia will endeavour to retrieve you without the help. It is a private matter after all, and he does feel some second-hand embarrassment due to your antics. In the case he does involve some agents or other people, he'll be as vague about the true nature of your relationship. Just don't think that you can really use this against him - it will end up harming you more than him. 

However, there could be a scenario where he would even anticipate and hunger for this. A mind game, perhaps, one designed to break your hope of escaping and flaunting his power and skill to you. In his bid to make a lasting impression on you, he is willing to declare open season on you. If he is feeling particularly vindictive, he'll draw all of this out, play with you, like a leopard toying with a baby impala before ultimately killing and eating it. Beware, for he can empathise and think like you, and thus deduce your movements and ultimately track you down. You are the prey and he is the hunter and he is willing to let you think you have the upper hand, only to crush those fantasies underfoot when the time is right. 

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO? 

He isn't the sort to take defeat lying down, given since past events have taught that that only leads to subjugation and misery. Each time he could think about giving up, about surrendering even just a fraction of the control that he has over himself, all the times he did so before flash before his eyes, especially the 90s of the past century, of Alfred imposing his shock therapy on him and the apocalyptic circumstances it spawned. All because he was naive enough to believe an enemy would show him mercy. Why should you be any different? So if he has to go down, then you'll go down with him - he burn the cities, salt the fields and flood the mines. If he has to die, then you can ride to hell with him. 

If it doesn't come to that, if the turn of events is born due to betrayal and false expectations, then he'll proceed slowly. Gradually he'll undermine your actions, or at least nudge the course of events to suit his needs. His goals don't have to be diametrically opposed to yours, or seem like things worthy of your attention. If you are ignorant in some category, then he won't hesitate to use it against you. He does intend on repaying you for everything you've inflicted upon him, and that with interest, compound interest if you are not cautious. 

Should you be kind and considerate, he'll be more open to such an arrangement, as long as you pay a lot of attention to him. Ivan will still find ways to influence you, and while things will be quiet for a while, it will eventuell end like the events described above in the second paragraph. He'll make it clear to you that it is nothing personal and just business. 

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition? 

Quiet like a tiger would act if somebody steals/tries to steal his meat. At first, he is content with threats and displays of powers, puffing himself up in order to appear bigger. Cold expressions and even colder words towards any other potential suitors. Commonly, he carries himself with such authority and purpose that he scares away most of those that stand in his way. 

If that is not enough, he might send some boys to knock the opponent around a bit. Or maybe stick out a leg at work to trip the other. A small message, a swipe with his claws - back off. Just a tiny incident to show the concurrence that he is serious. 

But if that isn't enough, then matters get dark. Perhaps the other has his reputation ruined, with illicit material of that person posted online. Maybe he'll warn everybody to stay away from that person, a recipe for insanity. Or if the man/woman dares hurt you, or worse, then that person will end up chopped up and rendered to pig food. Anything to keep you safe, after all.

Art is not mine: from Irina Vinnik and other artists

Info an the Yandere Character Sheets

[primus-why]

More on that Dropout Band AU

I can't find it right now but I once pitched an AU idea where TFA Optimus and his gang dropout/are kicked out of the Autobots and end up scraping their remaining credits together to form a traveling band to stay afloat, which ends up becoming really popular with Decepticons.

Well I just imagined a random little tidbit for that today: what if our starving artists literally ate their old Autobot insignias?

Hear me out! This comes from the idea that before they become a successful band they're low on essentials, like fuel. And perhaps they're too far from a planet to make a pit stop anytime soon... so, what's left to scrounge together for a quick snack or meal to get you through to the next space port? Why, literal scrap around the ship, that's what!

Imagine all they have left are some nickel shavings and a dream, as well as some scrap and their own insignias. Perhaps they had dropped out/defected suddenly, so they didn't get a chance to return the badge. Perhaps they were made to keep them, as a way for Ultra Magnus and the Autobot high command to keep an optic on them by tracking their location...

Extra funny if it's the latter, as after they crush and chew the insignias they obviously no longer work, so the Autobots who were tracking them assume they've all died some horrible deaths while stranded out in space lmao.

Anyways the insignias hold very little nutritional value but they'd be enough to fill their tanks with something until their next stop. Kinda like how folks strapped for a meal in famine will boil and eat uncured leather. Also it would be hilarious because it only adds to their street cred with the Decepticons... I'd imagine Bumblebee would be the one to spill the beans. He'd spin the tale so as to make it sound more like they were "sticking it to the man" and less like they were just starving lmao. Meanwhile the 'Cons are like "damn that's badass... they literally ate the symbol of the oppressors wow"

[sanctus-ingenium]

Is teapot guy from a specific setting, or just a General Guy? i love the vibes so much,,

yeah new story. guy who casts curses for a living gets fucked up news at 11

set in a city which sits upon a vast network of empty catacombs which used to contain a valuable magic resource, now mined dry. in the renaissance era the entire city was placed under a curse: nobody born outside may enter the city walls. and nobody born inside may leave.

this resulted in hundreds of years worth of civil unrest, cyclical revolutions, famine, and mass death within the city, and a massive effort to locate the physical vessel in which the city curse dwells. smashing that vessel would end the curse forever, but it is very well hidden and has never been located. instead, curse-breakers must do battle with the curse on the metaphysical plane in an effort to gain control over it.

in the early 1900s, after massive curse-breaking efforts by the citizens, one tenet of the curse has been lifted: outsiders can come in again. the story explores the ramifications of this, 60 years on. capitalism and big corporations have infested the city while ultra-nationalist interiorist cults eschew anything made outside the city walls. it is the worst of all possible worlds.

a curse-maker who can never leave keeps being unfairly drafted to do battle against the city curse by cops who hope that one day he won't wake up from the battle. in desperation, he struggles to hide from the authorities while caring for his only family member. buried deep in the pits of the catacombs, he finds a pair of ancient curse vessels - a teapot and a ewer. these can be sold for a high profit as collectors' items, but in an effort to get revenge an ex who could leave (and stabbed him in the back), he tries to cast the teapot curse on his ex. but it's a trap: designed to target the people who make it their business to hurt others by casting curses, the manticore claims whoever attempts to cast it.

the other curse vessel, a leaf-patterned ewer (pictured in my header), is stolen by his ex. the curse inside it takes the form of a sphinx with a major grudge against the manticore in the teapot, and the sphinx knows more about their origins than anyone else

[batghostgirlfan]

Tfp Autobots get cursed poll summary

The bearer of the Curse of Misfortune is Optimus Prime

The bearer of the Curse of Pestilence is Ratchet

The bearer of the Curse of Madness is Bumblebee

The bearer of the Curse of the Unseen is Smokescreen

The bearer of the Curse of Famine is Bulkhead

The bearer of the Curse of Happiness is Arcee

The bearer of the Curse of the Mindless is Ultra Magnus

The bearer of the Curse of the Fragile is Wheeljack

Thank you all for voting

[shooting-stars-only]

When a radical feminist (or anyone, actually) points out that males are, on average, stronger than females, everyone gets up in arms. “You’re saying women are weak! You’re saying that women are biologically inferior! You think women are feminine little dolls who need to be protected by big strong men! Why do you hate women?!”

But, their bizarre leap from “less muscular” to “weak and feminine” aside, raw strength is not the only metric of physical capability. For example:

Women are much better at ultra-endurance sports, owing to:

Muscle composition—females have muscle fatigue and more slow twitch muscle fibers, resulting in better oxygen delivery [x]

Better ability to pace themselves and think ahead [x]

More body fat, allowing female bodies to oxidize more fat than carbohydrates, which is more effective and sustainable long-term [x]

The science of female endurance leads us to the next point: women are more likely to survive extreme situations like natural disasters, famine, and disease.

Estrogen increases immune reactivity, meaning women are more capable of fighting infections [x]

Women are more likely to survive serious physical trauma, also due to estrogen [x]

XX chromosomes provide genetic diversity and provide a “backup” allele in case of a deleterious mutation on one X chromosome, making females less susceptible to genetic disease [x]

Female infants are hardier than male infants due to the above, even in populations where sex preference for male children is high [x]

Increased body fat makes women less likely to starve or freeze [x]

Want to bring a little more neuroendocrinology into this? Women are more likely to remain cool under pressure, from direct threats to physical safety to emotional stress.

Cortisol affects the brain differently in females and males, causing males to take emotionally-driven risks while women evaluate threats more logically [x]

In fight-or-flight scenarios, testosterone increases the likelihood of violent or extreme reactions in males, while females release oxytocin instead—women are not as inclined to make extreme, snap decisions when faced with a threat [x]

tl;dr get a man if you need a hyperemotional brute to kick down a door. If your physical task needs durability and logic, a woman will be much more helpful.

[chronic-lee-lovesick]

Well this game has too much tasty designs not to do this like I seen other people found ultra famine cute (not sure if it's to my degree BUT IK THERES OTHERS LIKE ME PLEASE SHOW UR SELVES 😭)

[miniboss000]

Ultra Famine requested by my mom

[dionysus-complex]

while I'm wading into these waters, I do actually think it is incumbent upon western leftists to be able to articulate foreign policy positions that differ meaningfully from those of the ultra-conservative Islamic Republic of Iran. and I say this both as a venting of my own frustration and as a person of very left politics who believes that a leftism that sidelines its humanitarian ideals and loudly telegraphs its performative support for Iranian proxy militias and groups that utilize famine and sexual violence as weapons of war is ultimately only going to succeed at marginalizing itself

[brandwhorestarscream]

Can we please see TFP Cryptoid Seekers (Jazz EQ Event). Like, I want to know how it would go with them. Especially with the whole "rouge Starscream" concept. Does the team all go to refuel, only to all get paralyzed and knocked out like Jazz was, waking up with the insatiable hunger. Or does Starscream find their base by parental will alone. Or even, does the whole Jazz but Team Prime thing happen, no one knows what's going on, then a fully developed seeker emerges. Please. Would you write this as a fic.

(Fun fact. My question mark is broken, so a lot of these periods are actually question marks. Sorry!)

Hey anon! I had a lotta fun with this one, but this is meant to serve only as the first part. Second part will be God Knows When, so I hope you'll enjoy this in the mean time!

Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy this blurb of Starscream's terrifying cryptid hellspawn terrorizing the autobots

It was, like most things these days, the rookie’s fault. Smokescreen had come waltzing back into base, strutting like a peacock and proudly showing off his haul, arms stacked high with the weirdest energon containers any of them had ever seen. Perfectly spherical from every angle, and scans revealed they held within them the highest possible quality, packed to the brim with the maximum potential energy-per-ounce. You’d be hard pressed to find anything like this on Cybertron save for within the Towers, and Ratchet was quick to seize them all for the emergency cache. Saying they ought to save it until someone needed a life-saving surgery and the nectar of the gods would aid in their recovery. Or, alternatively, if they took another turn toward unfortunate famine, those weird energon pods could tide them over for quite awhile.

Desperate to taste such a high quality treat, Smokescreen had eagerly offered to go get more. Stealing from Starscream was child’s play when he was otherwise engaged halfway across the continent with the autobots and decepticons, especially when he had the phase shifter. Optimus had forbid it, though–the window of opportunity had closed.

Starscream was very clearly incredibly upset about the loss of his fuel stores–Smokescreen had reported at least 30 of the weird orb-pod-things, and had gotten away with a total of 11. The seeker clearly knew they were the culprit, and had reportedly razed no less than seven government facilities in the last week.

“That stuff must be good if he’s this crazy about it,” Smokescreen had sighed wistfully after Fowler stalked away, demanding Optimus do something about the rogue jet. “Hey, doc, you sure-”

“Yes I’m sure!” Ratchet snaps from nearby, not even bothering to turn around. “Don’t even think about it, kid.”

He had whined about the unfairness of it all, but obeyed. The only ones amongst them that had ever had the privilege of such high quality energon were of course Optimus and Ultra Magnus, but they were in no rush to consume it, either. Ever the models of self control.

Three weeks after they’d put the special fuel in storage the normal-grade stuff was starting to run low and they had to raid another mine. It was profitable, but only barely, the spoils only requiring a trio of mecha to unload it into the energon vault. With the two youngest attending to their human companions’ and Ratchet fixing a minor wound on Arcee’s arm, only Optimus, Magnus, and Bulkhead were present when the orbs they’d stolen from Starscream suddenly exploded.

The detonation was obnoxiously loud, easily heard from everywhere in the base, a perfectly synchronized explosion of all 11 at once that brought the both of them running. As they approached the door there was the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the floor, and before them all three lay splayed out unconscious. There’s energon everywhere, glowing sharp cyan splattered on the walls, slathered upon their bodies as Ratchet rushes to check on them. They’re all fine, not bleeding, no wounds, but the energon they’re covered with is exceptionally viscous, almost slimy, and has the strongest paralyzing agent Ratchet has ever encountered. Just stepping in it steals the function from his legs in less than half a klik, and it falls to Arcee to hoses the area down and get the contaminated stuff down the drain.

The three main victims don’t stay unconscious for long, only a few megacycles. Ratchet works over them furiously, flushing their systems when he realizes the paralyzing agent is one of those annoying topical creations that can absorb through the mesh and penetrate directly into the mainlines. It’s wasteful but necessary, and thankfully, they’re ok. They’re back on their pedes before nightfall, and the scans come back clean.

The only problem is their fuel gauges.

Ratchet wakes the whole base pounding on Optimus’s door at some odd hour of the morning, using his medical override when it doesn’t open fast enough. The Prime is unresponsive in his berth and the vital sign monitor on the medic’s arm is beeping urgently.

“Get me energon, now!” he barks an order at the nearest autobot. “He’s dropping into stasis lock.”

“What?!”

Bumblebee returns in record time and Ratchet immediately sends him out for more as he sets up for an emergency transfusion. He’s mumbling feverishly to himself as he scans the larger mech; it shouldn’t be possible. He had to have ruptured something internally while he was resting to have his energon levels dropping that fast! His sparkpulse was dangerously low, and his energon level was less than 5%. There was a breach somewhere in his body, there had to be.

The scans all come back clean. All of his fuel tubing is intact. His internal processing system is perfectly pristine. There’s no report of any obstructions, no weird fuel demands anywhere else. It’s like-

The vital sign monitor wails on his arm, and Ratchet swears. “Bulkhead!”

It’s no small feat getting the three of them into the medbay when they’re all unconscious and can’t walk. As soon as he finishes transfusing one another’s monitor goes off, and the scans are useless. They all come back the picture of health, there’s nothing wrong with them! Pulse normal, all internal organs functioning optimally. There’s no leaks, no breakages, no nothing. The fuel is entering exactly where it’s supposed to, it’s staying where it’s supposed to. The only explanation is that the weird decepticon fuel-weapon thing. Their metabolism has skyrocketed to unmanageable levels–no sooner has the fuel entered their tanks is it being digested. It’s like it’s just vanishing, evaporating. It’s going in, it’s not leaking anywhere, but it’s somehow not reaching the rest of their bodies.

Honestly, it’s a brilliant weapon.

“...we need more energon,” he announces hollowly after half a megacycle of adrenaline fueled rushing. “They’ll starve by sunrise if we don’t get more.”

Of course… he could cut off the supply of one to prolong the other two. Obviously Optimus would be the first he’d preserve, but how to choose between Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus? His mind scrambles between them, weighing the pros and cons, which would be more of an asset on earth and thereafter-

“More energon, got it,” Arcee is already taking charge, jabbing a finger at the door and ordering the two younglings, “Bee, Smokescreen, with me. We’ll be back, Ratchet.”

After a solemn moment, he nods. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

…

Three sleepless days later, their plight ends at last. They’d done nothing but feverishly hunt for mines and steal as much energon as they could, quickly bringing it back to base, rinse and repeat without rest. They’re all ready to drop and can barely soldier ahead when finally, finally, Optimus Prime opens his optics and sits up on the medical berth like he hadn’t just been in a starvation coma for the last three days.

“Ratchet,” he says, very quietly. “I am going to vomit.”

“Wha-”

He leans over the side and wretches, violently, half-digested energon and internal fuel-tank acids splashing onto the floor. Ratchet backpedals in surprise, but he’s not done, clamping one servo over his mouth and stumbling out of the berth to make a dash for the sinks but it’s no use–his legs are wobbly from lack of fuel and use alike, and more vomit splashes through his fingers despite his best effort, and he stumbles to his knees. One servo planted on the floor and the other still trying to hold it in, he heaves once, twice, and hacks out a sheet of clear, slimy sludge.

“Optimus-” Ratchet wrenches his servo down from his face–last thing they needed was their leader drowning himself on his own purged fuel! “Stop, stop, just let it come-”

An earth shattering clang and Bulkhead rolls right off his berth, and is still laying, dazed, on his back when he starts violently gagging too. Ultra Magnus is the last one up, and at least has the decency to apologize for throwing up all over the slab he’s just defiled.

The stench is unbearable, the metal tang of energon mixed with hydrochloric acid and there’s no containing the mess–the scanners don’t give any sort of indication as to what’s going on, why they’re suddenly so violently rejecting the fuel their bodies had been so desperate for just minutes ago. The vital sign monitor suddenly wails and Optimus chokes grandly, clawing at his chassis–and Ratchet sees that something has jammed his primary fuel tube. It’s such a large obstruction that it’s crushing his aeration tubing and causing it to collapse. In response his core temperature is rising dangerously quickly, vents gushing and labored as his body hitches and rolls, trying to get it out and gagging grandly.

He’s choking, and his system’s are in a frenzy, red light blaring in his vision and emergency messages flooding his HUD.

“On your back!” Ratchet orders, shoving him down and turning him over. If it doesn’t dislodge itself in the next 10 nanokliks he’ll have to open him up to remove it surgically. “Arms down, down! I need-”

The monitor blares again and Ultra Magnus starts choking too. Bulkhead is right behind him. Slag, slag, slag-!

“ARCEE!” he yells aloud and into his comms, praying she’s still on base. He’s going to need someone else’s hands if he’s going to help them all-

Optimus makes a strangled, wheezing noise, and his back bows off the ground, servos scrabbling at his throat. His pedes dig at the ground as if struggling for traction, and without warning a tiny, flailing arm reaches out of the Prime’s throat. Ratchet recoils in horror with a strangled, “By the Allspark…!”

Tiny claws dig into his bottom denta, and a second servo reaches to join them. Optimus rolls onto his side and purges again, and out of his mouth falls an honest to Primus sparkling, dripping energon sludge and shaking itself off, rolling over in the puddle of sick and rubbing it’s face into the ground, whining loudly.

It’s a wiry, gaunt little thing, with a sunken, too-thin face and what are definitely wing nubs beginning to furl out and harden on it’s back. Optimus stares at it, open-mouthed and speechless, for a solid five seconds before wretching again.

There’s more than one!

The sparkling bumbles clumsily out of the puddle and glances around, before promptly throwing it’s helm back, unhinging it’s jaw, and letting out the loudest, most unholy sound Ratchet has ever heard. The walls shake, he can feel the floor vibrating beneath his pedes with the force of the soundwaves the newborn is making. It’s high pitched, and shrill, and horrible, echoing and wailing like the worst kind of alarm. It runs away from him when he makes to pick it up, hoping to… he doesn’t even know what, and skitters under the nearest berth. It starts up screaming again, louder this time, and at last Arcee stumbles in through the door, clutching her helm.

“What is that?!”

“No time!” he can barely hear himself over the noise. “We need-”

“RATCHE-E-ET!” Bulkhead bellows like the world is ending, and the sheer terror in his voice draws the medic over. There’s a sparkling hanging half out of his mouth and he’s struggling to yank it out at the same time there’s a horrible grinding sound from his midsection, and something punches outward and straight through his plating. It’s a tiny pede this time, a tiny thruster, and within seconds the hole is torn open larger, bent inward and stretched further, and the upper half of another horrifying little abomination pops through. It wriggles, twists, and promptly tumbles down his midsection and onto the floor. It runs off too, a sibling in hot pursuit, joining the screaming one under the berth. Bulkhead is bleeding profusely from the wound on his midsection as the hellspawn join their sibling in the ungodly shrieking, and somewhere in the room, glass shatters. The soundwaves are so powerful they make the medic’s servos shake as he’s scrambling to stop the bleeding. It goes all the way to his primary fuel pump, and he realizes with horror.

The little parasites must have been in those spherical energon pods, and had anchored themselves within their bodies to steal energon and continue development. The first few had crawled out the way they entered, but the others-!

Bulkhead wheezes and collapses backwards, unconscious as his fuel tank is punctured again and another sparkling punches through, a bit further north than the previous two. Ratchet tries to grab it but it’s slippery, and no sooner has he wrapped one servo around it has it sunk it’s razor sharp, serrated denta into his finger and torn off a chunk of his mesh. Swearing in pain, he drops it, and the little hellion bounces off his knee and onto the floor, rolling thrice and having the audacity to hiss at him before scampering away. This one doesn’t go under the berth, though: it makes a beeline for the console and is immediately starting to scale the perfectly vertical surface to get halfway up the wall. It shimmies up the wall like a god damn gecko and disappears into the rafters. To make matters worse, it starts screaming too.

Smokescreen had brought in 11 of those energon pods–eggs, they were eggs Ratchet had by now realized–and that meant 11 tiny, Unicron spawned parasites trying to violently escape their unconventional hosts’ bodies.

He had just barely stopped Bulkhead from bleeding out when Magnus threw up two at once, a pair of twins, and his midsection suddenly bowed outwards and an unholy screeching trio burst out of him as one. Five in Magnus, three in Bulkhead, that left four for Optimus. He was the only lucky one, as all four of the sparklings had decided to exit the way they entered. There was severe damage to fuel systems all around, cracked and shredded tubing and wounds in the mouth from the babies’ sharp claws, but they were going to live, thankfully.

There were 12 in total, and after getting a good look at them their parentage was unmistakable–even if they hadn’t known Smokescreen had stolen them from Starscream, they were all in his spitting image. The same sickly thin frames, too-small arms and legs and papery wings, sunken faces and optics far too big for their helms. Mouths full of several rows of curved, knife-like denta with jaw strength great enough to bite through an adult mech’s armor plating. And if that wasn’t enough to confirm it, the screaming set it in stone: the windows had long since shattered in the wake of all 12 voices hollering as loud as they could. They didn’t even seem to be all that distressed: there were no tears, no sobbing, just insistent, never ending wailing like those earthen emergency sirens. Only Starscream’s spawn could ever be this loud.

It took them over two megacycles to round them all up and get them out of the medbay so Ratchet could fix the non-lethal injuries in relative peace. They couldn’t make a decision on what to do with them all until the three unwitting incubators had a clean bill of health. Ratchet knew Optimus would want to do the right thing: return them to their mother. No wonder Starscream had been going crazy for the last month, it all made sense now, and he surely wouldn’t rest until he found his wayward offspring.

Keeping the twelve of them in the main room wasn’t too difficult, so long as the doors all stayed closed. Resisting the urge to strangle them, however, was much more difficult. Within 2 kliks Arcee was ready to power up the ground bridge and go dump them in the wilderness somewhere. The little hellspawn were borderline indestructible, as all sparklings were by earth standards. More than once one had fallen more than fifty feet from the rafters to the floor and had done little more than wheeze a few times before shaking themselves off and scurrying to climb back up.

She’d never seen a baby seeker before. No one had. The snobs never came down from Vos before the war, and no one was having sparklings in an active warzone.

Or, well. No one smart was.

Regardless. She’d never seen a seekerling before, and she honestly wasn’t sure if they were all this crazy or if they were so messed up on account of being Starscream’s spawn. It wasn’t just the screaming, no: it was the way their jaws unhinged to stick things in their mouths. It was the way their helms spun 180 degrees to look at things, it was the three-to-four rows of denta they all had. It was the way they flickered in and out of existence, some kind of unstable camouflage/invisibility, it was the way they climbed the walls and were hanging upside down from the ceiling while never letting up the ungodly wailing. They were only about human size but so loud they could be heard more than a mile away.

A fact evidenced by Agent Fowler’s sudden arrival. He couldn’t hear them, but they could hear him, barely. Informing them that the sparklings were causing a serious, dangerous disturbance in radio communication, and were to be moved offsite, underground, immediately. Arcee didn’t have it in her to argue.

[thisismenow3]

I don’t get how people can conflate Hamas with all Palestinians

Unless they’re the same kind of dumb that writes off every citizen of the USA or Canada or UK etc for the often ultra conservative usually imperialist acts of those countries’ governments. There’s a weird skip of the record I usually see for the ones that’re usually deeper thinkers. Suddenly “Hamas brought this on Gaza, the blockade was also in retaliation to the last time they did something.” And I want to point out that they’re conflating a terrorist grouping with an entire people. But they’re also advocating for genocidal group punishment (blockade of Gaza). The next response is usually the false premise of “there are arab communities in Israel! Wouldn’t they be gone if Israel genocidal?” “Fam, do you think Native Americans don’t exist anymore? Do you think aboriginal Australians don’t exist anymore? Genocide doesn’t mean “we killed ‘em all, wasn’t a genocide til we finished the job.” (Nevermind that arab in this context is ignoring that to be Palestinian is to arab what English is to Germanic peoples). Genocide also is never persued in a way that will actually succeed in killing 100%. Cause that’s never the top goal of genocide. Genocide is the tool a group that is in power or favored by the powerful use to steal land and resources from another group. Land and homes and resources have been stolen from Palestinians nonstop since the founding of Israel. All genocides are for settler populations as part of a movement and/or imperialism. The definition of genocide even mentions that mass killings don’t even have to be happening if stealing land, killing culture, forcing people into camps or out of a country, etc are happening. Then it’s a genocide.

But if someone really thinks an American armed elite military curb stomping civilians “in order to get at some terrorists” is a “justified turn of events” then they either agree that American cops can racially profiled and kill on a whim by the same logic or fail to see the direct line. Modern subjugation is the same as it has been for hundreds of years. It’s always been “why are you hitting yourself?!?!?” type bullshit except nowadays there’s war crimes done with bladed person seeking rockets instead of muskets. The famines due to blockades are the exact same though