#He can still be disturbed in certain instances

[sa1808fi]

Hear me out:

Rex being desensitized to any kind of gorey thing, or at the very least he isn't scared of anything Emmet is anymore.

BECAUSE, at this point, he's seen things much more horrifying than blood or guts, or mangled corpses, or any of the standard horror movie scary things.

Like after Undar his view of reality is so fucked up to the point he just doesn't register what should be horrifying to a normal person as something he should be worried about.

He spent so much time in the 'real world', seeing the kids playing with the legos that he's bound to have seen them take the minifigures apart to build new ones.

Sooo, he's gonna have an even bigger existential crisis. And that's just him falling into the 'nothing is real' mindset. So if he does see these things when he's back in his world.

He can still process the fact that you know dead person. But he's just having less of a freaked-out reaction compared to what Emmet would have.

Raptors could also contribute to his apatheticness because of how they attack/eat things. Hmmmm.

Does this make sense? My thoughts are all over the place

[hylianane]

I’ve read Time Traveler Zoro AUS far more interesting than anything my feeble little mind could cook up on it’s own, but I’d still love try to play around with the premise and give it my own spin.

I’ve read two in which Zoro loses the crew in a great tragedy, so he goes back in time to save them, and the greatest source of tension in the story is the way he tries to hide all the future knowledge he maintains from the others, while still trying to rewrite history. It’s so good and thrilling. But. Yet. However.

I’m reminded of the scene in Sabaody in which Rayleigh offers to tell the crew about the One Piece, and Luffy furiously rejects him. Says he doesn’t want a boring adventure where he knows the ending. And though I don’t recall Zoro saying anything in that moment, I think he would agree. So in this Time Travel AU, when Zoro goes back in time, he does so with the idea that this second try isn’t for him. He wants to help, but if he gets on that boat, he won’t be able to keep himself from giving Luffy all the answers in hopes of saving his life, and that would ruin his Captain’s dream.

So let’s imagine Luffy. At seventeen years old, he sets out on a journey through the Grandline to become the King of the Pirates. He has his navigator, his sniper, his cook, his doctor- all his friends by his side. And things are challenging sometimes, but always fun. And he gets lucky.

He gets lucky a lot.

Sanjj tells him it’s a guardian angel, but Luffy’s not so sure. There’s something at the back of his mind, an itch behind his ear. He starts to notice signs of a certain presence everywhere he goes, a mysterious someone who seems to always want to beat him to the punch, but also seems to never finish the job.

Like back in Orange Town, when he met Nami and fought the Buggy guy, the Clown complained about his knife thrower being put out of commission by a bounty hunter right before the fight. Or in Syrup Village, when Captain Kuroo called for reinforcements two of his officers were a no-show, their crewmates reporting that it was as if the Nyaban Brothers had disappeared into the night. When Luffy met Sanji at the Baratie, he’d felt a tension build within him as he listened to all the rumors of the Greatest Swordsman in the World having been seen nearby. But then, the tension is cut abruptly when Don Kreig walks through the door instead, announcing that he’d escaped the Warlord when some suicidal swordsman intercepted his chase.

In Whiskey Peak, Nami tells him about how she saw a cloaked figure take down 100 hundred bounty hunters without making a sound, as if trying to not disturb the Strawhat’s sleep. Luffy thinks he might’ve seen such a figure from afar when taking a leak, but he can’t be sure. In Alabasta, Ace keeps throwing looks over his shoulder as if searching for someone, but always telling Luffy there’s nothing to worry about. Vivi is shocked to discover someone took down Baroque Work’s Number 1 in a duel a night before their arrival at Alubarna. When Robin joins them at the end of it, she seems shocked to find the crew only has five members, instead of six. But she doesn’t seem keen on elaborating why just yet.

The only place that they haven’t been followed to by this Mystery Guy (as Luffy has taken to calling him) is Skypeia. Almost like he couldn’t figure out how to get up there.

And still, the whole time Luffy’s there he can’t stop thinking about him. Looking left and right as if between the clouds and the trees he’ll catch a glimpse of Mystery Guy’s face. Nami says it’s ludicrous to think that all these instances can be chalked up to same guy. Usopp tells tall tales of how they’re being stalked by a man who fell madly love with the Great Sniper’s good looks, or sometimes he tells tales of how they’re being followed by the ancient God of Fortune, or sometimes it’s any other grandiose tale he’ll accept before he accepts that it’s just a guy, just a Mystery Guy, who is real and Luffy knows it.

He knows, and he’s a little obsessed with it. And it’s not always great. He loses sleep, wondering who are you and do you know me and do i know you and stop getting in my way and why don’t you do it more and do you want to join my crew and i need you to watch me and i need you on my crew.

(Meanwhile, on his end, Zoro is planning how to stop the tragedy that will befall his family. But in the meantime he doesn’t want to just be dead weight. He doesn’t want to be apart from them. He may not have a place on that boat anymore, but he can’t have his Captain fighting his battles. He can’t let his friends go unprotected. So he’ll protect them, protect him, in silence, from afar, always one day head, always knowing what’s coming next)

[immediatebreakfast]

Mina, and Jonathan experiencing the actual social expectations of married victorian couples by the cultural pressure of having four different men who are well comfortable in their position within the cultural/social victorian hierarchy, is truly the lowest point in their relationship so far.

Mina is getting desperate to have even a single crumble of information after compiling what is basically their holy manuscript about vampires while going "This is absolutely fine :)" only to stop herself from pushing further because she doesn't know what to do without actual support.

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. 

Mina knows that this is wrong, she knows that Jonathan not speaking at all to her about what he is doing in these missions is not the kind of dynamic they thrived in before joining forces with the others. This is not their solemn duty to one another, but what can Mina do exactly when she is currently residing in an asylum? She calls herself a silly fool for expressing what might as well be grief because of the loss of their communication. Mina still expresses that maybe someday Jonathan will tell her fully all of the information again (implied how in that future some day they are away from the others), so she has to keep her journal going. Moreover, Mina being utterly alone with her self deprecating thoughts made her spiral more because now she thinks she has to bottle up her feelings as to not worry Jonathan.

Meanwhile, Jonathan got invited to what I can only describes as a "good ol' lads only" mission where he almost had a panic attack in three different instances because being there in the Count's territory again activated his ptsd almost instantly.

I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.

On top of being utterly baffling to see him express these hards notions of misogyny for the first time in the whole book after it. This is not to say that Jonathan is not sexist because that would not align with his comments on the Weird Sisters; his line of thinking is more focused on the sexist idea that women are noble, nurturing people as a default despite him looking up to them. So, to see Jonathan repeat the whole "women are fragile beings made of glass which any kind of fright can shatter" in this robotic manner reads more as if he is repeating this to convice himself that leaving Mina out of the investigation was a good idea, and that he needs to push any discomfort with this new arragement "for them" because he is The Husband now.

All of this is the perfect opportunity for the Count to strike, and take down Mina specifically. Which he did not waste any time in doing for what we read on the entry.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Conservation Works blog on Substack:

Michael Soulé, the founder of conservation biology, used to say that one of the most important pieces of advice he got as a young scientist was “when in doubt, count.” Monitoring — counting or otherwise measuring organisms in the same place over time — is the foundation of conservation biology, and in many ways it’s the foundation of conservation, too. Unless someone counts how many lizards, salmon, ferns, or species of butterflies live in a certain place, and repeats the count at regular intervals, that group of organisms can decline or even die out unnoticed. Before an organism can be conserved, it has to be counted.

But what’s the point of counting organisms that seem doomed to extinction? That’s the question tropical biologist Peter Edmunds addresses in a recent BioScience essay titled “Why keep monitoring coral reefs?”

For nearly four decades, Edmunds has been monitoring coral reefs at two locations in the U.S. Virgin Islands, using annual photographs to measure changes in the relative extent of coral and algae. He started the project in 1987, less than a year before the first known Caribbean-wide coral bleaching event; since then, coral extent at one of his sites has shrunk by 92 percent and at the other by 52 percent. Both reefs used to be dominated by boulder star coral, a large, stony species that provides structure to Caribbean reefs and protects the region’s coastlines from erosion. Now, they are dominated by fast-growing “weedy” corals and algae. Given that climate change continues to drive up water temperatures and increase the frequency and intensity of hurricanes, writes Edmunds, “the prospects for community recovery are bleak.”

Yet he argues that monitoring matters, and will continue to matter. The series of photographs Edmunds and his colleagues have accumulated, for instance, suggests that acute disturbances such as hurricanes and major bleaching events cause less damage over time than the everyday stress of rising water temperatures. Moreover, as he writes drily, “the past is an imperfect predictor of the future, ensuring that old data can never fully take the place of new information.” Even a grievously altered system such as the Virgin Islands reefs will continue to change in different ways for different reasons, and understanding those changes will be essential to protecting the life that persists — both at sea and on land.

I was reminded of Edmunds’ argument earlier this month, when I attended the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem Biennial Scientific Conference, held this year in Big Sky, Montana. One of the speakers was Tom Olliff, an ecologist who, like Edmunds, has dedicated himself to one ecosystem: he spent 32 years living and working in Yellowstone National Park, eventually directing its Science and Resource Management Division.

Olliff noted the remarkable changes in and around Yellowstone during the course of his career, including the reintroduction of wolves, the recovery of grizzly bears, the boom in visitor numbers, and the excruciating and still-growing development pressure on private lands. He called on his listeners, who included many colleagues and friends, to undertake “audacious acts of conservation,�� projects that take a long time to realize and may face determined opposition.

Olliff named some headline-grabbing audacious acts, like wolf reintroduction and dam removal. But he ended his talk with a quieter example. In his current position as a regional research manager for the National Park Service, he has been working with wildlife biologist Don Swann on the long-term monitoring of saguaro cacti in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and Mexico. Though adult saguaros are still common, young saguaros are struggling to survive as temperatures rise. How long should scientists plan to monitor the population? Four decades from now, a report on the saguaro population might be as grim as Edmunds’ assessment of the Virgin Islands reefs.

[eldritch-spouse]

stroking and kissing Livius's horns? he is such a cute sweetheart, yandere or not

He's doing that thing again.

Ever since being brought to Envy, your attitude shifted. As is to be expected. Hell changes people, oftentimes bringing out the worst in them. You're no exception, of course. Being in Envy has made you colder, a bit more reserved, cautious and judgemental towards all. This means Livius has some catching up to do.

Because, for some reason, he always has to be as aligned to your personality and moods as he can be. You've stopped questioning why he does this, it's been a constant since the start of your odd "relationship"- Probably a disturbance born of his nature, as an incarnation of envy itself. Can't really fault him for that, can you?

Nevertheless, it means he's being a lot more studious of you recently, taking note of your every action and reaction, absorbing it all like a sponge so he can then express those demeanors himself. Most of the time, the King is subtle in his efforts, yet during some other instances -Like now- He just stands silently and stares. It's more of a glare, really.

Eerily still, your King and husband observes you place new decorations around your shared room. That's another thing he pays close attention to, the way you'll redecorate. The house is an extension of one's mind, after all. Every now and then, as you turn this way and that, you manage to steal discreet glances at Livius, and sometimes, he'll do it.

That cute little reflex you like so much.

A brief, periodic twitch of the horns.

It was quite shocking to learn that demons have many types of horns. Not all of them are hard and bony, jutting upwards like the tines of a fork. Some are droopy and curly, others are tendrils, some loop around each other, others sway around their heads, their diversity is something truly mesmerizing. And Livius just so happens to be part of a minority of demons who feature moving horns, these long prong-like protrusions with a surprising amount of flexibility. They can flip up, back, forward, even curl a little at the ends.

He'll flick them about in certain choice moments, usually according to his moods. Although, when Livius falls into deep focus the way he has now, they'll twitch about in just the cutest way. It makes your heart soar.

" Come here. " You call.

The Icon jolts, blinking repeatedly, embarassed to be caught. " H- Hm? "

" Come. " You repeat.

The demon's smile inches upwards slightly. He walks in a different way already, a more measured pace, like yours, leaning down when you beckon him to do so.

The moment they're within reach, you grasp his blue horns with both hands and edge up their length until your left hand reaches the first ring on his right horn. Livius' face twists a bit at first, like the contact is unexpected, then relaxes steadily, giggling even, when you tug slightly at the protrusions and feel the way they give slightly.

" Pray tell, what has my King so distracted? " You joke, watching as his eyes flutter to a close and his horns droop further against the sides of his sharp face.

They look almost like the floppy ears of a dog, this way.

" Hhh- Nothing, sweetums! I just spaced out, you know me. "

You really don't, but you fear no one else does either.

" Good. " You murmur, placing sweet smooches up his right horn and feeling the extremity squirm slightly in your grasp.

Livius hums, tilting his head into the touch, completely unaware of how the twin curls on itself from delight at your sweet touch.

Sometimes, you can almost pretend this is alright.

[monards]

i think this still stands as one of my favorite exchanges lines in symbiosis just because of the sheer depth of it. despite how silly it seems at first. because it IS!!!! butohhh my GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-- one of the most pivotal. and essential. points of magnolia's character IS her struggle with vulnerability ; and one of the most important parts of her overall story is the way she's perceived by others, and how she responds to it. if you really choose to read into it, mint's depiction of magnolia so brutally hits those two points (as is proven by her reaction) and it's! incredibly gut wrenching! when you think about it!

Mint goes out of his way to draw magnolia (dare i say meownolia) as wholly facing the camera, as opposed to his own full body cat which isn't in that same sate of facing the camera completely, which already has FAR more intimate connotations than magnolia has and probably is ever gonna be comfortable with in any situation. There's a reason headshots of characters are typically used to get across emotions or key components of a character ! Because whole eye contact and attention implies a certain vulnerability. Something something, eyes are the window to the heart & soul. (I'm not poetic i forgot the phrase nobody comment on it.) The single fact alone that mint choses this manner to draw Magnolia that already nudges at her very explicit issues around vulnerability. Mint went out of his way to draw her in a way that would imply him staring into her very soul as he drew her !! That's going to fuck up that emotionally unavailable woman quite a bit !! -> This isn't even to consider the motifs around height in symbiosis : the concept of Mint being able to stand and meet her eyes without looking up or any other hinderance (thinking of how the way she holds him, for example, still manages to set a distance between their faces: so he's either looking away, or unable to see her without having to look up) is something that is ESTABLISHED to disturb Magnolia on some level - since that clearly comes with the vulnerability of being on the same level as somebody, rather than above them. The concept of directly meeting Mint's eyes, without looking down at all, is clearly a tad unnerving to her ! to say the least ! and do you wanna guess. do you wanna guess how mint would've looked at her as he drew her. as he drew in an incredibly affectionate manner (as a cat!) which has very soft connotations to it (all of which implying him seeing her *as* that at this level?) AT EYE LEVEL !!! HE WOULD BE STARING HIS DEPICTION OF MAGNOLIA AT EYE LEVEL !!! AND HE SHOWS HERE THAT HE'D SEE HER AS SOFT AND KIND THE WAY SHE IS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-- I think the more obvious, and easier to explain without me sounding like a complete lunatic, part of this exchange come from when you recontextualize the line "(Art is hardly his strong suit, I suppose nobody ever taught him how to draw.)" Literally the BIGGEST part of magnolia's character is how, by every standard of society as she knows it, she should be judged as horrible and wretched and evil, and every other synonym of those words one can imagine !!! and art, in this instance, is clearly acting as a metaphor for that perspective -- if you replaced art and draw with any iteration of judgement... it'd be EXACTLY that ! and make whole sense given the context! and do you guys wanna guess. Do you guys wanna guess who the only ever person to see her outside of what society predestined her image to be. do youguys wanna g

DOVE. CANIRY !!!!!! DOVE FUCKING CANIRRRYYYYY CAN ANYBODY HEAR MEEEEEE !!!!!!!!!

It's an explicit point in Magnolia and Dove’s first interaction, in memory, that Magnolia is clearly very, very curious in the matter of Dove's perspective of her– because it’s one that is kind. And that’s the exact point of it ! It's used to establish Dove as a unique other in Magnolia's life; Someone who doesn’t judge her how everyone else does, and someone who sees something in her nobody has before. Because Dove doesn’t have that average black-and-white basis of judging others that almost anyone else Magnolia has ever met and interacted with has been given by society since the day were born.

AND MINT EXPLICITLY IS MADE TO PARALLEL THAT ASPECT OF DOVE !!! IF NOT DOVE AS A WHOLE !!!!!!!

Magnolia lived, and continues to live, her life with the preconceived notion she is inherently evil, and or just wrong. She has even had this REPEATEDLY reinforced, too ; Her own parents are noted to have not liked her, as far as she could tell– and given what we know of her habitual response of understating and not comprehending the full emotional weight of a situation, it’s easily assumed this lack of love was far more prevalent than she states it to be off handedly. It’s for that reason that it’s so hard to imagine those beliefs aren’t CODED into Magnolia’s very head between that, and the fact her attitude is definitely not attracting much positive attention.

The fact of mint directly paralleling dove’s narrative purpose is so sickening is because it shows dove’s interpretation was not just a “only she could think of me this way” situation. Because here it’s proven to her that others can, and do, see good in her.

And for someone like Magnolia, whose already dug her own grave, and committed herself to an interpretation and caricature of herself that lacks any nuance or complexity that she learned she could actually be afforded through that perspective? That’s scary.

The concept of being told, and confirmed, this far into her life, that she’s capable of good, and that others see good in her, is HORRIFIC !! She’s long since seeled her own fate, and it’s incredibly easy to conceptualize the torment and anguish someone would feel knowing this wasn’t the route they had to take.

As much as Magnolia certainly is self-sufficient & intendent… nobody likes being that way all the time. We see her attachment to mint directly establish that; the fact she cares so deeply and honestly for mint, questionable motives aside, proves she does still crave and desire all of those things she could’ve had in a normal life– such as love, affection, and care. And her being told in any capacity, or through any means, “you could’ve had that normal life - you aren’t the solely horrible person, incapable of obtaining a good life & your goal simultaneously, that society has told you that you are for so long, because i can see something in you” WOULD undoubtedly make her defensive, as was seen in the exchange! Exactly reasoning her immediate thought “… He thinks I look like this?” The shock of being told you're not wholly bad, no matter how hard you’ve pushed yourself into a caricature of evil, especially when you're Magnolia Faragher herself, cannot be all that fun.

This helps explain to her “Art is hardly his strong suit, I suppose nobody ever taught him how to draw.” line too, because this is (in the context of what i'm trying to say, at least) NOT just about art.

Magnolia has long, long since (unintentionally) confined herself and her characterization to the general and mainstream standard of morals and ethics of people in *mainstream* society – wholly disregarding the nuanced opinions of people like Dove, because that was just one unique perspective, as far as she was aware. It’s an incredibly well known historical fact that, within the era Magnolia was growing up, and living, in actual-society, (implied early 1940s, to late 1970s) – every aspect of her would’ve been antagonized. Although in a more modern setting, her attitude and personality when she was younger would hardly be radical – back then, it was.

No matter how hard someone may try to escape it, it’s incredibly hard to escape values you were taught in your formative years, now to mention ones which were cemented into you till you were 37, practically. Magnolia’s response doesn’t come out of her just, alone, thinking Mint was “uneducated” to any degree (whether that be art, or socially) – it also comes, majorly, from her being in denial of the fact that his thoughts, and actions, were valid in their take, because he wasn’t taught on mainstream societal norms, as she was. His art (interpretation of her) isn’t his “strong suit” because to her, it can’t possibly be if he hadn’t learned it through proper sources that she’s familiar with.

Her reaction to Mint immediately being that he was simply uneducated in that subject is her IMMEDIATELY trying to deflect the concept of a perception of her not abiding by what she’s used to. He doesn’t know society’s morals, so this is simply a failure of educating him on it on her part. To her, his opinion isn’t valid (no matter how much more reasonable and evidenced it is) because it goes against what she’s been taught to believe, and understand, about people – because to her, there’s no way in which he can form an opinion of her that’s valid, if it’s not through the lense and context that she’s evil (which, ultimately, would lead him to hate her, as far as she’s concerned.)

SHE IS PURPOSELY SABOTAGING AND RUINING HER IMAGE IN OTHER PEOPLE’S EYES, GUYS!!!

An option in the balcony conversation is to have Magnolia say Mint is only an experiment to her, and that she’s keeping him around for the sake of “learning” about his nature as a homunculus – and Dove goes out of her way to call out the fact she’s clearly lying to the both of them. Proving that Magnolia went out of her way to lie about her own thoughts by trying to use an incredibly character-changing concept. The fact both possible endings, beyond this point, are centered on the aspect of Magnolia being self aware of her horrible actions, and character, and pushing Mint to the city (society) to learn about the world and it’s standards, and beliefs, proves there’s a lot more to those actions than her just trying to hide her affection for mint from Dove, too. She explicitly made a point to paint her actions as evil, to establish a rift between her and mint – which would then drive him to grow and learn under society’s standards.

Magnolia's character is BUILT on the concept of her having an almost instinct where she needs to be perceived poorly in other’s eyes, part because of her upbringing, and other part her experience in society cementing it– because that’s all she knows! As smart and intelligent as Magnolia clearly is, she lacks emotional intelligence of any capacity – because she’s clearly stuck in the past, in the way that she’s haunted by the fact she could’ve done everything she’d wanted normally. She’d never been obligated to be evil, and that it was only the fact society lacked nuance in their perception of her that she believed herself to be this way fundamentally. She’s survived her entire life with the belief that she is evil, and awful, and arrogant, and cold, and the concept of that being so heavily combated by another perspective is obviously FOREIGN and SCARY to her. And, despite how much it may hurt those around her, she’s shown (repeatedly) to make an effort in forcing others to see her as just as evil and horrible and she thinks herself to be.

[oletus-manors-log]

OBSERVER'S NOTE :

“ How interesting! I never manage to dig deep into Frederick myself, but he seems like an interesting fellow. His mannerisms do tend to contradict each other, although I won't lie, the music he composes is very nice to listen to.

Anyway, before I start rambling again, here it is, @tartalimispapas ! I hope that I didn't took too long writing this— believe me, people watching and observing him in matches and out of it can be conflicting, not to mention the chaos in the manor. It gives me a headache sometimes... ”

Insomniac Troubles - Frederick Kreiburg

There are certain things that you have trouble with, even after living in the manor for as long as you've remembered.

One being that you have trouble with matches.

And the other being insomnia.

You were one of the few survivors in the manor that has trouble sleeping. It's almost like a curse for you, considering that it costs you during matches when you're being chased by the hunters. The amount of times Emily had to talk to you about your sleep schedule was also another thing, but you weren't going to tell her about your problem.

There were others that do share your pain in staying up late, like Naib, for instance. Aesop was also another survivor you've seen staying up due to this issue, but it seems that the two have managed to resolve it. How? You don't know.

You weren't exactly close to them, anyhow.

As you woke up once again, you found yourself lying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You've pondered if you could even ask anyone for help on this matter. Although you aren't close with the others, you at least know that some wouldn't mind helping you, like Emily or even Ada.

...

They must surely be asleep, though. I should find a way to tire myself out without disturbing them.

With that thought in mind, you pushed yourself out of the bed, perhaps so to get your body moving. It could be a double-edged sword for you and you could end up feeling more active finding ways to tire yourself out, but in your mind, it'll be worth the effort.

All you have to do is find a way to get tired and lull yourself to sleep. That's it.

...

...

...

It has been 20 minutes when you got out of the room to walk around the area, your body still in that sluggish state. It was a bit difficult for you to really do much, and the rooms you've visited were empty.

A sure sign that no one is awake.

It was making you feel more and more tired, which may sound good... But no, it wasn't in the sense that you want to head back and sleep in your room. It was more to the fact you're getting more and more annoyed at seeing no one around to help you sleep.

People often talked about how they feel cranky when they wake up, and now, you can understand why they would say that.

The more you walked around, the more the frustration seem to build up. At this point, if you can't find somewhere to keep your mind occupied, you'd—

...

A song seem to echo on the hall as you stepped in, making you stop in your tracks.

It sounded... Faint, yes, but nice. Almost enchanting.

For a moment, you debated investigating what was up. There were certain things you aren't so certain, and especially with thinking who is playing music in such an hour. Maybe it was someone haunting the halls at this time with how enchanting it is, or maybe it is something else and you aren't aware of?

Well, it could be those things, or it can be a musician- Antonio was unable to play the piano, that you knew, but... Who else, then?

...

Ahh, this will keep you up at night. Maybe it's best you investigate what is going on, then.

With a new task in mind, you went off to see what it was. The music was still playing, so in that sense, maybe you will be able to figure out who it is and even ask if they can tell you what song it is.

Although, while the song was playing, the creaks of the floorboards sounded like it wasn't there as you went to investigate. Alongside that, it also helped you feel more and more at ease— the song was played beautifully, each note sounding like they belong in its rightful place, and even down to its various pauses and dips of its tone.

Safe to say, it was enchanting.

You stumbled a few times when you reached the room where it was being played, the melody growing louder and louder. It feels like it was pulling you in its embrace, and it didn't help but amplify it's effects when you stepped in the room.

It seems you have ended up in the ballroom, the instruments laid aside on the side of the stage. Although the place was devoid of life, you could tell someone was playing the piano from their place.

As you turned your gaze into the sight of the piano, you couldn't help but see the man that was playing.

The light from the lantern showed you his features: his platinum blonde hair was styled in a low ponytail, strands framing his face evenly while his eyes were focused onto the sheet. He didn't even have his pink coat with him, opting to wear a white dress shirt as he played the song on the piano.

The melody simply continued on as you felt your body sway, your footsteps growing lighter as you listlessly went over to listen. Although, you didn't expect him to stop playing to turn and see you.

...

Ah.

This is awkward.

You both stared in place as the music came to a sudden stop, the silence enveloping you both in a rather... Tense grip. You felt like the previous drowsiness you had vanish, only to be replaced with the chill and embarrassment of being found out.

Uh oh.

You hesitated for a moment before you turned around to leave, mumbling a "sorry", but you paused when the musician coughed.

"... Sorry, did you hear me play?"

His voice sounded soft and melodic, much like his song, you noted. Though, you did turned back to face him before nodding.

"Yes. It sounds... Nice, though," you answered, giving him a smile in return. "Can you play it again?" you asked, taking one step forward as you watched his reaction.

He paused, perhaps... Debating on whether to continue. After a while, he nodded and gestured for you to sit down, raising his hands to continue playing.

As he began to play the song, the room began to fill with the melody you heard when you were looking for something to tire yourself out. As he continued to play, you observed his reaction.

The way his eyes seem to flutter close as he continued to play, the smile stretching to his lips as he seem lost in his world, and even down to his fingers glide through the keys of the instrument.

It was mesmerizing. Captivating, even.

And it roped you in.

It didn't took long until you felt your body sway, your eyes fluttering close as the song reached it's peak bit by bit. Letting out a soft yawn, you relaxed and leaned onto the instrument, a smile stretching your lips.

No word can describe the feeling you had listening to his song, and for once, you didn't have to.

The moment the song's conclusion came, Frederick's fingers lifted itself from the keys, his eyes opening to turn towards where you've been seated. He could've said something, but he stopped upon seeing the relaxed look on your face.

Ah...

The fact that you fell asleep while listening to him play was... Surprising. Was the song so good, or were you that tired when you got to the ballroom?

He didn't knew. But maybe he can ask you tomorrow, when you both meet again.

The composer moved to stand up from his spot in the piano, and with a swift turn, he leaned down to grab one of your arms to wrap around him. The other free hand reached over for the lantern, just so that he wouldn't trip over anything in the dark.

With that, he trudged on to the survivor's wing, sealing a sleepless night such as this on a positive note.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[novelmonger]

I've recently come across some posts in the chrumblr world expressing viewpoints that I find...disturbing. I'm vagueposting about it partly because I don't know these people personally, and also because I think it has a wider application than this one instance.

While reading posts about people from a certain faith background, I came across multiple instances of people saying (literally) "I hate them" and (paraphrase) "They're all liars."

This kind of talk needs to stop immediately.

Just imagine for a second that the conversation was about people from a certain country or ethnic background, rather than a religion. I hope we would all recognize it and denounce it for the gross racism it would be.

How can you think it's okay to talk about anyone like that? How is that pleasing to God, or helpful to anyone?

Even if their religion is false, they're still human beings. Even if their doctrines are heretical and blasphemous, they are still made in God's image. Even if it's true that it's a cult in every sense of the word, the people involved in it are still worthy of respect, love, and understanding. (And whether they're following a cult leader or a demon or just a really charismatic speaker who pretends to know the truth, they are being deceived. They're not inherently, irredeemably evil!)

Besides, as Christians, when we see people who are mired in a world of false teachings, following a false god, held captive by leaders' manipulative tactics and a works-based salvation...shouldn't that move us to compassion? Rather than saying things like "I hate them" and dismissing them as though they're hopeless causes or worthy of ridicule, shouldn't we be reaching out to them with the truth that will set them free? At the very least, shouldn't we be praying for God to extend mercy to them, rather than tearing them down?

But for the grace of God, we Christians are no better off than these people following a false religion. If the Holy Spirit hadn't worked in our hearts, we would be just as lost as they are, and we weren't saved because we were somehow better, more righteous, more truthful, less prone to being deceived. We have no high ground from which to look down on them.

So yes, point out the problematic aspects of their teachings and history. Make it clear that we do not worship the same God, no matter what they may claim to the contrary. But don't hate them. Don't laugh at them behind their backs. What kind of witness to the truth will that make you? Rather than convincing them of the true gospel, all it will do is confirm their suspicions of how horrible non-believers are, and leave them thinking, "If that's what Christianity is like, I don't want anything to do with it!"

... to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people. For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

Titus 3:2-7

[mmkin]

The Siren's Shark

New Arlong story! I originally wasn't gonna post this til I finished GYSA but I'm struggling with the next chapter for that one so i decided to go ahead and share my new Arlong project... yaaay. Link here, chapter also under the cut.

Summary - After losing Arlong Park to that damn rubber kid, Arlong is forced to confront his inner demons and the consequences of the choices he made throughout his life, which is not easy for a prideful and arrogant sharkman. However, a chance encounter offers Arlong and his fishmen a chance at happiness even if it's hard-fought.

The Siren’s Shark

The events of Arlong Park have come and passed, and this story starts after the Sabaody arc but before Marineford. However, one thing I noticed while watching more OP episodes is that you don't see Arlong or his men at Impel Dawn even though with their crimes and whatnot they'd in all likelihood have ended up there. We do know that Hatchan escaped, and reappears in the Sabaody episodes (which just delighted my heart) I was also thrilled when they introduced Jinbe in the Impel Dawn arc. Such a cool character.

But still, no one knows what happened to Arlong as of this date (aside from Eiichiro Oda) and since I think Arlong and fishmen are cool, I wanted to do a story with Arlong regarding this. So this story, aside from flashbacks or backstory, starts after Sabaody and happens concurrently with Impel Dawn/Marineford and so on but focusing on Arlong and his crew (and Siren!) Hatchan also appears in this story – he was in Sabaody but joins up with Arlong later on (which will be explained in the story)

Haki comes in three main forms as we see on the show but given that all sorts of weird things can be done with willpower (with or without Devil Fruit. i.e. what Portgas D Rouge did with her pregnancy) I decided to play around a bit with that idea here in regards to what the siren can do.

Content Warning – There will be discussions/instances of slavery, racism, violence, sexual assault, torture, etc (nothing you don’t already see or hinted at in One Piece) This isn’t Game of Thrones and I will keep most of that in the background/offscreen but there will be scenes which some readers might find disturbing, depending on various tolerance levels.

o0o0o0o

Somewhere in the South Blue…

Arlong narrowed his eyes as he stared out at the chilly waters of the South Blue. The last months had been especially trying for him, with one challenge after another after these damn Straw Hats came to the Conomi Islands. Much as he wanted to deny it, the Arlong Park era was over. He could try starting over somewhere else, but where? He and his men had managed to break free of the Marines and throw the government off their trail, but he didn’t doubt that by now, it was known that the Marines who had arrested him and his gang were missing, never having made it to their destination.

The Marine ship had been useful for a while but too conspicuous, so they stole a merchant ship and here they were, on a ship laden with various goods – some more useful to the fishmen, others less so. He shivered before he pulled up the collar of his jacket. He missed the balmy atmosphere of the Conomi Islands, and again cursed the Straw Hats and Nami.

The crew managed to keep itself well-provisioned with various catches from the sea, but certain things could only be obtained on land. Fishman Island was a ways off, and Arlong had gained a healthy sense of caution. His distinctive appearance was on wanted posters through the East Blue, and self-preservation tempered the recklessness he had sometimes. So they'd made a hasty retreat to the South Blue, going south enough to enter a climate that eight years in the tropical Conomi Islands left them little prepared for.

He huffed as he looked at the water, pulling up the collar of his jacket. Take had modified it to accommodate his dorsal fin, cutting a slit down from the neck before attaching a knit hat to it that Arlong could slide his fin into. Fishmen were hardy creatures, but even they could only tolerate so much cold before it became uncomfortable and the carp fishman had an appreciable talent with needle and thread. Fortunately, between what was cobbled together from Marine uniforms and the various items on the merchant’s ship, the fishmen were able to find some level of comfort, but it still felt weird having to layer clothing after spending years wearing little more than shirts and shorts.

And now they were running low on booze. Arlong had a hard time sleeping many nights, overcome by anger, frustration, depression, confusion, anxiety, bitterness, and regret in a seemingly endless random cycle. The alcohol helped to take the edge off that. Dimly, Arlong was aware that it was not a healthy method of coping, but at this time there seemed little else to do than hide. There was a reason he’d targeted the East Blue. Out of the Blues, it was considered by many the most placid of the seas, with pirates and criminals there being relatively minor compared to those in the other Blues and he didn’t want to be fighting one of the Warlords, Emperors, or various families or organizations.

Life is a constant struggle. If you see an opportunity to exploit others, grab it. Get whatever breaks you can, he recalled the gruff voice. The fishman race has suffered far too long. Mercy is for the weak. Someone hits you, hit back twice as hard if not more. Ajkul’s voice hissed at him from the depths of his memory.

Arlong created such a reputation for himself that if he tried to re-establish himself anywhere in the East Blue, the Marines if not the World Government would be on his ass. It was a humbling experience not only for him but the fishmen that were still with him. They'd reigned high and mighty in the Conomi Islands, having twenty towns under their control and a steady influx of tribute money and good times. Aside from a few examples that had to be set, the humans had generally been docile in paying their tributes and doing their work.

Then the Straw Hats had to come and fuck it up, and Nami had gone off with them. He grumbled to himself as he narrowed his eyes, seeing a speck in the distance that could be an island. Turning around, he called a few fishmen over to do some scouting. There were a few grumbles as his subordinates faced the prospect of heading into the chilly water, but he was still the captain of his crew.

o0o0o0o

Since that little long-nosed bastard had beaten him around the head multiple times with his hammer, Chew suffered from migraines. They’d lessened some by that point, but he still suffered bouts of debilitating pain that made it difficult for him to focus.

And now, he was sick too. And there was no doctor to look after him or the few other fishmen who'd been unfortunate enough to catch something from… wherever the fuck they'd caught it from. Hatchan did his best, but there was only so much even a man with six arms could do. Some of the fishmen knew first aid, but there was no substitute for a well-trained doctor. Or even the loving care of the mother he barely remembered.

o0o0o0o

Kuroobi sat in the infirmary, hearing the soft groan as one of the fishmen rolled over, trying to get comfortable despite his aches. When the fishmen had taken over this ship, there were some medical supplies in the infirmary, but it wasn’t as well-stocked as it should have been. And with what had been going on lately, they were already out of a few things. Not just medical supplies or pharmaceuticals, though. And it wasn’t as if they could just waltz into a marketplace anytime they pleased. Stealing was tempting, but the crew wanted to draw as little attention to itself as possible, especially from the damned Marines.

The ray fishman furrowed his eyebrows as he mused over his defeat at the hands of a human. A fucking human. It’d been many months, but it still rankled him. He’d prided himself so much on his skills, but as he now bitterly realized, nearly a decade of living in the Conomi Islands had softened him. The humans he’d come across were easy to terrorize, even the Marines. And so he and his fellow fishmen and captain had lived eight easy years, relying on brute force and intimidation to keep things under control.

He frowned at Chew thoughtfully as he looked over his longtime nakama. Hachi was making soup for everyone here, and Kuroobi looked forward to having a bowl of his own. Cold weather was not kind to fishmen who had large fins like he did, so when it was possible, he spent his time within the ship, and looking over Chew and the others was as good an excuse as any to avoid going outside. Take had put together a coat for him using one coat and much of another, which he was grateful for, but it felt unnatural having his fins covered in the thick material of a jacket.

His stomach rumbled hungrily. Hatchan mentioned something about being low or out of some ingredients, but he wasn’t a picky eater. As long as it was hot and edible, he’d take it.

o0o0o0o

Hatchan looked over the ingredients, making note of what they were running low on on top of what he’d already run out of. When he’d rejoined Arlong, the sharkman was in charge of this ship, though it bore the emblem of the man who previously owned the vessel. Sorrowfree Wanderer wasn’t a bad name for a ship, but right now, there was plenty of sorrow.

Reeling from the loss of his beloved takoyaki ship at the hands of xenophobic humans, he’d left the Thousand Sunny in the care of Duval, Silvers, and the other friends of the Straw Hats, no longer feeling quite as safe at Sabaody, especially after what happened with Camie. Besides, as he’d reasoned, the Straw Hats needed his help, and perhaps if he traveled out into the world, he could find at least one of them. That would do more good than sitting around and waiting for them to come back.

And instead of finding a Straw Hat, he’d found Arlong, making his way down the South Blue.

Arlong knew none of his business with the Straw Hats, though. That was the last thing Arlong needed to hear, that one of his long-time nakama had befriended the Straw Hats, of all people. All the sharkman knew was his undersea stroll and how he had helped a village of catfish and gotten a takoyaki ship. When Hatchan recounted how his ship was destroyed by humans, Arlong gave him a bitter but regretful sneer.

“When you asked for some time, it was not easy for me to let you go, but I did. I am sorry that happened to you, we know how stupid humans are but destroying your ship is an absolute disgrace. Fishmen aren’t even allowed to have their own damn takoyaki stall!”

Reeling from his loss and nursing the sting of justified anger and rage, Hatchan could only accept Arlong’s words, bowing his head and resuming his old position within Arlong’s crew, welcoming the protection and company they offered. He didn’t hate all humans like Arlong expected him to. Despite his loss, he knew there were plenty of good humans out there, and perhaps one day Arlong wouldn’t hate them so much.

Eventually, they'd have to go among humans again, if they didn't come across an island inhabited by fishmen. Arlong would grumble about how fishmen had a safe place on the surface until Nami betrayed them and the Straw Hats defeated them. It was tempting to remind Arlong that he’d betrayed Nami by finding a way around the promise he’d made her almost a decade ago. The one time he’d done that though… Arlong had gone into a blackout rage, alcohol and anger proving (for the umpteenth time) to be a poor combination for the sharkman’s already considerable mental and emotional strain.

Hatchan wasn’t sure if Arlong remembered that the next day, waking up with one hell of a hangover that had him snarling at anyone who came near him. And the octopus man never asked, nor did he bring up the topic again.

Hatchan simply hoped that in the next market, there would be no trouble and they'd be able to get in and out with the supplies they needed. Perhaps some hot and/or fried food would improve the captain’s mood.

o0o0o0o

One of Yolande Sato’s favorite things to do was look out at the sea. Sometimes at night, she would go swimming, going out further or deeper than anyone else on the island could. But right now it was too cold for that, so she hunched over the railing, taking in the vantage before her, the sea a deep but forbidding blue. She took a deep breath, feeling the cold air cut through her throat before she noticed a ship on the horizon. This remote island in the South Blue did not get a lot of traffic, but it was not so out of the way that a ship caused great excitement. Idly, she wondered if it was a Marine or merchant vessel. It revealed itself to be the latter when the sail came in view, a lighthearted caricature of a smiling face. She smirked to herself, wondering what sorts of stories these sailors would bring. Not to mention how much alcohol they would buy at the bar, and how much they might spend on supplies here while the locals looked over whatever trinkets they would offer for sale. She stood outside the pharmacy, enjoying the fresh air and letting her thoughts wander as there were no customers to serve.

She had to stop herself from doing a double-take when a trio of men from the ship came to the pharmacy. From a distance, they looked like ordinary men bundled against the nippy weather, but given her experience, she recognized what they were as one of them approached the bench she was sitting on. They looked worn and tired, but then many sailors coming to port after a long voyage did.

“Do you know where I can find the doctor?” the fishman with an especially bulky-looking middle asked her.

“Yeah, sure, he should be in his office now. Just, go up two buildings to the one with blue shingles. Ring the bell.” She afforded him the courtesy she would afford anyone else, regardless of race, but she knew not everyone viewed others the same way, and though the newcomers tried to conceal it, she could tell they were more than just tired.

They left, and she went back inside, taking inventory until they appeared again, startling her when she turned around. A glance at the clock showed that less than fifteen minutes passed. This time, the two other fishmen looked upset and angry, though they tried to not be too obvious about it, and her stomach formed a knot.

She found Doctor Flen to be snobbish, even regarding other humans. So, in regards to fishmen… She held back a sigh. Come on, really, you old fucking asshole. So much for age and wisdom, and the oath you’ve sworn as a doctor, eh?

“Can I help you?” she asked with the same warmth she offered before. She was glad the pharmacist was not here at the moment, because he was Doctor Flen’s nephew. “Would you like vitamins, or analgesics, or…?”

“We really need a doctor,” the stocky fishman said. He had wide lips that made her think of an octopus. Actually, that would explain the bulk under his jacket… he had to be hiding extra arms. Though his companions were upset, their leader seemed less angry and more desperate.

She swore under her breath. “Doctor Flen’s the only one on the island. But…” She looked at the fishmen, understanding their anger. It wasn’t fair, the way Flen was acting, but when a doctor could hold life or death in their hands, you tried to not piss them off. “I’ve been trained as a nurse. If you like, I could look at whoever needs help. And if it seems severe enough… well, let’s say Doctor Flen owes me a favor.”

“… Seriously?” the octopus fishman exclaimed softly. One of the other fishmen – one with ruddy skin that could pass for severe sunburn if one didn’t look too closely – regarded her with a curious glance.

“Unlike some others, I’m not prejudiced against fishmen.”

“Oh, thank you!” the octopus man gushed, barely registering that she’d identified him and his companions as they really were. He seemed like he wanted to pull her into a hug. “I’m Hachi.”

“Nice to meet you, Hachi. I’m Yolande. Let me get my bag and lock up.” She paused as she stared at the trio. “I have a question to ask, and this has nothing to do with race. If I come to your ship and render my services, you will guarantee my safe conduct?”

She was, after all, a lone woman who faced the prospect of going on a ship full of strange men. She was good-hearted, but not stupid.

“You have my word!” Hachi promised, and the others nodded in assent.

The air was brisk but the sun shone brightly as she walked down the pier with the octopus man at her side. Hachi had explained to her that there were several fishmen abroad that were sick and feverish and that they lacked a doctor at this time.

She had even more questions about the situation as she was led onto the ship – under the questioning, and then indignant glares of the fishmen on the deck when Shioyaki quickly recounted the tale of the doctor refusing them. When she entered the infirmary, she came face to face with a monolith of a pale-skinned fishman with dark hair and eyes, and impressive pectoral fins.

What the hell had she stumbled into, she wondered as she clutched her bag to her chest while Hachi talked to the ray fishman. She was allowed to examine the fishmen but could feel the heat of Kuroobi's gaze as he kept his attention on her the whole time. She was thankful for the octopus man's presence, as she took out her stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and thermometer because it looked like Kuroobi expected her to pull out a bomb or poison.

What the hell happened to these fishmen to make them so fearful and paranoid, she wondered as she took vitals and asked questions. One fishman seemed especially reluctant to have her touch him at all, and the one with big lips appeared delirious. She tutted over him gently, wiping his feverish brow.

“Fortunately, I don’t see anything that requires emergency intervention, but these men do require care and rest, as well as vitamins and medication. How well-stocked is your medicine chest?”

Not very, as it turned out. Well, it was a good thing she worked in a pharmacy, right? “I can help you stock up on all the things you need,” she offered Hachi. “I can put together some things for you once I get back for immediate care. It’ll take a bit more time to stock the ship, but we’ll worry about that later, ok? If you’re willing to come back with me, you can return to the ship with the vitamins and medicine, all right?” she asked.

“Sounds good to me!” Hachi said with relief evident in his tone. Kuroobi pulled him aside and had a whispered conversation with him as she put everything back in her bag, giving the fishmen one last glance. She was glad it wasn’t a broken bone or serious illness, but these poor fishmen were not quite out of the woods.

o0o0o0o

It was a bitter pill to swallow to allow a human aboard the ship, but Arlong couldn’t sit back and let Chew and the others get sicker and possibly die. They’d already been through so much and he didn’t want to lose another nakama.

Going to Fishman Island had been – and still was – a possibility. But it’d been over a decade since he’d been there, and now a human protected Fishman Island. Could humans ever be trusted with such a thing? Apparently, King Neptune believed so.

And like the merman king was entrusting a human with the safety of his kingdom, Arlong was being forced to trust a human with the health of his fishmen. He glared through the window, seeing a glimpse of Hatchan leave with the nurse, descending the gangplank of the ship with Shioyaki and Kaneshiro. She was bundled up in a jacket but he saw the top of her head, a thick mass of wavy dark reddish-black hair. He narrowed his eyes at the receding figure.

-yours-

He blinked and shook his head. Couldn’t even get a fucking doctor, they had to rely on a fucking nurse. That was what Shioyaki informed him of when Hatchan led the woman into the infirmary. In the days of Arlong Park after their doctor had died, he could have simply forced the doctor from Cocoyasi Village to render medical aid when needed. Doctor Nako knew what price would be paid for failure, so he’d been compliant, and Arlong could have trusted that he would administer medicine or treatment to the best of his ability.

Once they were gone, he emerged from his cabin, lifting his head to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. How he missed the Conomi Islands and its comfortable climate. He stood there for a few minutes before entering the infirmary. It pained him to see his brothers suffer so, especially Chew. Even when the illness passed, there would still be the migraines.

And for the whole crew, unless something happened or something concrete was decided upon soon, they would continue to drift. After nearly a decade comfortably ensconced at Arlong Park, with the promise of the park waiting for him and the others at the end of every trip and mission, it felt strange to not have a place to go to.

o0o0o0o

Hatchan sighed with relief as he felt the parcel tucked in his jacket with the instructions she’d written down for him. There were various bottles of several different types of pills along with a few hypodermic needles after she asked him if he or anyone on the crew knew how to use needles.

Kuroobi had been reluctant to let him go back to town, wondering if an ambush had been arranged somehow by Yolande, but Hatchan didn’t believe so. She’d seemed upset upon hearing that the doctor was refusing to help them, and she seemed so kind when looking over the patients in the infirmary.

There were good humans in the world. Plenty of bad ones, true, but as Hatchan knew from experience, there were plenty of good ones, too. When he’d asked Yolande how much the medicine cost, she said she’d wait to settle up, pointing out that there were sick people to take care of first. Yes, she was right, and he hurried back to the ship with the medicine.

o0o0o0o

Yolande got scolded by her boss when he came back from his lengthy lunch break. She pointed out to him that his uncle had denied some men in need service, so she’d rendered it.

“Huh, that doesn’t sound like him.”

“They were fishmen,” Yolande said. He blinked and then shrugged.

“Well then, that explains it. Fishmen can be violent, and my uncle has to protect himself.”

“So why did they walk away instead of committing violence, then?” she challenged. He had no real answer to that, and she scowled to herself as she went about her work, hoping that all the aid she’d rendered would do Hachi’s friends some real good. She was not a doctor, but she’d learned plenty enough from studies and experience to make solid judgment calls (which included telling someone they needed an actual doctor)

She sighed softly as she looked down at the ledger, having written down everything she'd given Hachi. There was more room to write in anything else the ship might need. She'd been nagged for giving Hachi the medicine without payment, and to get her boss off her back, she volunteered to cover the tab in case the fishmen disappeared. There was the chance of that, of course, but Hachi seemed so genuine in needing her aid and wanting to be fair with her that she didn't think he had any ill intentions.

Hachi was there in the morning, almost right when the pharmacy opened. He brightened upon seeing her.

“I take it the medicine helped,” she said.

“It did. Chew’s fever finally broke. Thank you so much!”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Would you know who is the best person to go to if we have goods to sell?” he asked. Why are you asking a pharmacist’s assistant, she mentally asked before the answer was as obvious as what was in front of her. If the doctor was willing to spurn him, who else on the island would?

“If you want, I’ll help you myself. I’m curious to see what you have, too.” she smiled.

o0o0o0o

Arlong glanced over the crates as Hatchan and his companions pulled them up onto the ship. Some of the knick-knacks had been unloaded, and most of the saffron. Thank goodness for that, Arlong thought. He didn't much care for the flavor of saffron but Take insisted it was valuable and should not be unloaded so easily.

He glanced up at the sail as he recalled the ship he used to have. The Shark Superb. It had been a magnificent vessel, and much larger than this. Much of it had been used to build Arlong Park, and sometimes he regretted the loss of his ship. Especially in comparison to this merchant ship. It was serviceable enough for him and his crew, but it still felt cramped.

Perhaps they would upgrade soon if circumstances moved in their favor. His attention returned to the supplies. What if the help that had been so easily offered was just another trick? Was the cooking oil, flour, or beef tainted in some way? Had the medicines been compromised?

“Have the provisions been examined?” Arlong asked sharply. Shioyaki nodded.

“We looked over everything before agreeing to anything. She even haggled on our behalf a couple of times. We’re going to be good on most of our supplies for a good while now,” Shioyaki acknowledged. At seeing the captain’s frown, the salmon fishman quickly added, “She knows we’re fishmen. She was simply wise enough to acknowledge our superiority which is more than I can say for that stupid doctor.”

"Hmph," Arlong smirked. Hatchan frowned as he heard that, but continued hauling up the sacks and crates.

o0o0o0o

Yolande squinted for a moment as she turned around, the wind whipping a few strands of hair free from the loose braid she had her dark hair in. She’d been to the ship’s infirmary once again and all the fishmen seemed to be on the mend. She’d spent a bit of time taking a walk along the pier with Hachi, delighted for the opportunity to make a new friend. The two others, Shioyaki and Kaneshiro, who usually accompanied Hachi to town, also seemed to warm up to her a bit.

Not that she didn’t sympathize with their paranoia. Something happened to make Kuroobi leery of her, his eyes fixed on her whenever she was on the ship. Perhaps humans had attempted to take them into slavery. Or they were escaped slaves? She hadn’t asked too many questions, but Hachi simply said they’d sailed south and that humans had destroyed his takoyaki stall and tried to enslave him.

She knew there were whispers on the island about the fishmen. But they had caused no trouble. It seemed that all they wanted was to rest and resupply, no different than any other crew. Nothing more, nothing less. That didn’t stop the scowls and whispers, especially around her because it was no secret that she’d been helping the fishmen with their needs. The fishmen might not have made use of the tavern, but a fair amount of alcohol was traded for and taken onto the ship, so the brewer still made his profit.

Whatever. She shared a laugh with Kaneshiro, Shioyaki, and Hatchan, entertaining them with a few amusing limericks. It was one of the things she enjoyed about newcomers to the island – they often brought with them amusing anecdotes and limericks that she could share.

o0o0o0o

Arlong ventured out on the deck. They would be leaving in a couple of days, and good riddance to this cold, forsaken place. If Chew or any of the other fishmen had taken a turn for the worse, he would have given serious thought to rampaging through the island with his crew.

The tinkling of unfamiliar laughter echoed through the air, and Arlong blinked as he approached the side of the ship, seeing a handful of fishmen busy loading the last of their recently-obtained provisions. Hatchan was laughing with a woman that he recognized after a moment as the human who'd done much good for his crew. He'd only ever seen her from behind, Hatchan speaking while she listened.

He stared at the pale, laughing profile, her hands clapping together a couple of times as she stood there with Hatchan, at ease as several fishmen moved past her. He felt himself pulled forward as if this woman had grabbed him by his collar.

He slid down the gangplank, silently and predatorily, closing in on her like a shark does its prey.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Hachi. I’ll have to remember that,” she said with a chuckle, wiping a tear from her eye. The octopus man giggled and caught his breath before he took notice of his captain, eyes widening in surprise as Arlong approached them. His shadow moved across Yolande, and she turned to look up at him, sunlight catching in her dark gray-green eyes for a moment.

Arlong had heard plenty enough about her from Hatchan and even a few grudgingly kind comments from Shioyaki or Kaneshiro. He had to admit his curiosity was piqued, but he'd also remained suspicious and distant, not wanting to deal with a human directly unless he absolutely had to.

He stared down at these eyes, feeling that pull more intensely now. In his mind, there was a note playing, one he now knew he had heard before, the first time he saw her. Only that first time, it'd been so distant he hadn't been sure it’d been real. And then he was certain he heard it in his dreams after that day, but dreams were so hard to remember upon waking unless they were terrible. But now, looking into these eyes, hearing her laugh and her voice… it couldn't be. It was impossible, but there was no denying what was happening.

“Boss?” he heard his nakama ask. He blinked, tearing his attention away from Yolande’s face, realizing that a few other fishmen looked surprised to see him out here with a human around.

“I wanted to meet the person who was so helpful to my crew,” Arlong finally said, pulling his frenzied thoughts together. Hatchan stared at him for a moment before smiling.

“Of course! Yolande, this is the captain of our ship, Arlong.”

o0o0o0o

Yolande repeated the name she was given, staring up into eyes as clear as the sky, and as cold as the southernmost reaches of this sea. His shoulders were broad, the effect bolstered by the jacket he wore, and even though she wasn’t a short woman, he towered over her. Well, most of the fishmen she’d met were taller than her, but Arlong’s mere presence overwhelmed her, with almost as much physical force as a brick wall slamming into her, and she found herself unable to breathe for a moment. Thick black hair was held in place – just barely – by a dark, wide-brimmed hat. Aside from his eyes, the most arresting feature was his nose.

She stared up at him, and his mouth spread into a slow grin, revealing sharp teeth. She was barely aware of Hachi's hand on her arm. She heard her name come from the sharkman in a rumble that seemed to vibrate through her.

Yolande blinked and took a step back. Arlong’s grin only widened. Hachi moved between them, whispering something to Arlong as the two stared at one another. She managed to pull her gaze away, wondering what the fuck that was.

-mate-

She wasn’t chaste – before marriage or after becoming a widow – but she couldn’t remember wanting to fuck anything as much as she did Arlong. It wasn’t even simply a desire to have sex. She wanted something more, and though she couldn’t explain it, she knew that Arlong felt the same.

What the hell? Her hand fluttered to her throat as she felt heat creep up her neck. Several whispered words were exchanged between him and Hatchan, but his eyes remained on her, cool azure under the dark brim, glinting from the shadows. His grin widened further, and it seemed that her breath was frozen in her throat.

"The captain wishes to thank you for all the help you've rendered us. Please accept his invitation to come for dinner tonight," Hatchan said as he stepped in front of her, blocking Arlong from her view, which filled her with both disappointment and relief. She blinked and looked up at the octopus man she'd been on friendly terms with since the first moment they'd met.

“Dinner? Well, that sounds like it would be fun!” she said with a smile as she looked up at him, hearing a faint, deep note that she chalked up to the lightheadedness.

o0o0o0o

Ajkul – Arlong’s mentor Akula (and several variations of spelling, including ajkula) is the word for shark in Russian and several other Eastern European/Central Asian languages. Neat factoid – when I was looking for a name for Ajkul, I was looking up the word shark in various languages, and noticed that language families tended to have a similar word for shark, there were a couple of similarities (or differences) that I didn’t expect, which led me to brush up a little on geography and history, haha.

Hatred – whether it be racism, or sexism, or homophobia, etc, tends to be passed down. It doesn’t come out of nowhere, and I figured that as Arlong has passed down that hate to Hody Jones, someone had to pass it down to Arlong. The talk of carrying on bitterness and vengeance and all that sounds like something that Arlong had been inculcated in. These hateful beliefs would only have been reinforced by the things Arlong witnessed such as human pirates coming to Fishman Island/District to kidnap and enslave seafolk, which would only reinforce Arlong’s beliefs and give him justification and/or excuses for the things he did.

It’s honestly fascinating. Judging Arlong simply by the Arlong Park arc in the anime, he’s more of a one-dimensional asshole but the live action of OP as well as what is revealed about fishmen in the Sabaody and Fishman Island arcs give the gorgeous sharkman (as well as the fishman and seafolk races overall) some depth.

Yes, Yolande is Arlong’s y/n. This story is a standalone, but if Marvel and DC can have their multiversal stuff, why can’t I do one for Arlong too? I had a lot of fun with my first Arlong story and setting a scenario where he got to keep Arlong Park but this time I wanted to do something closer to canon. This also resulted in some serious consideration for Yolande and how I wanted to develop her (and Arlong) and I’m having a lot of fun so far, I already have several chapters written for this and am watching the anime on Netflix (as well as many of the movies) and hoo boy, the most recent episodes of OP certainly have come a loooooong way from the first season/saga of the anime.

This story was in development for a few months and the chapters I have so far were a hell of a lot of fun to write. Who knows if we will see Arlong again in the anime or manga, but I hope this story is a fun what-if of that. All feedback/suggestions/reviews are welcome.

[clinically-obssessed]

Are Logan & Janus Two Sides of the Same Coin?

In "Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts," it is revealed that Remus is Roman's "dark" counterpart. But who is Janus' "light" counterpart? It is certainly possible that he doesn't have one. But given how much emphasis is put into the symmetry between the "dark" & "light" sides (same number in each, black vs white clothing, etc), as well as the similarities within these groups (the naming conventions, for instance), it seems likely that Janus is somehow connected to one of the others. Following the example of Roman and Remus, both brothers are responsible for creativity, but Roman's creativity is deemed to be good and pure, whereas Remus' creativity is deemed dark and disturbing. Therefore, Janus and his counterpart would likely share the same fundamental trait as well, though their manifestations of it would be different. On this basis, I will argue that Logan and Janus are connected by the trait of reason, and that Janus is a "dark side" because he uses reason in a way that is cynical and self-interested.

First, let us compare Logan and Janus' style of argumentation. Logan typically references scientific studies and concepts, such as the Yerkes-Dodson Curve and the statistic about Christmas decorations that appears in "Putting Others First" to name only a few. This demonstrates his highly empirical world view, and from these empirical observations he draws normative conclusions about what Thomas ought to do. One of Logan's biggest emphases is on Thomas's health, as demonstrated in "Why Do We Get Out Of Bed In The Morning?"

On the other hand, Janus focuses on philosophical arguments, referencing Kant, Stirner, and Nietzsche to make his points. Though Janus is less interested in scientific facts, he still demonstrates logic in his own way, as these philosophers all used rational arguments to support their conclusions (note: whether or not you agree with them, what I mean by "rational" is that they applied the rules of logic to their premises to construct their philosophies). Janus has also been described as representing self-preservation, an aim not too dissimilar to Logan's goal of promoting Thomas' health. After all, Janus explicitly argued in favor of Thomas's mental health in "Putting Others First."

With all of this being said, it is worth noting that the flexibility and ambiguity of philosophy allows Janus to use logic as a tool to suit his needs in the moment. To put it in the words of Renee Descartes, "there is nothing so strange and little believable that it has not been said by one of the philosophers." Furthermore, "Selfishness vs Selflessness" draws attention to the contradictions between Stirner's belief in equality and his racism, suggesting that philosophers are often hypocritical and cannot necessarily be trusted. This is what makes Janus a "dark" side - he too has the capability to reason, but rather than pursuing the noble goal of truth, he uses his powers to manipulate others and further his own ends.

Given this reading, it is significant that in "Selfishness vs Selflessness," Logan is the one to mention Peter Singer, a contemporary philosopher. This further reinforces the hidden similarities between the two. Throughout the entire series, the only other side to use philosophical arguments is Janus, so for Logan to reference a philosopher in support of one of his own arguments suggests that he recognizes a certain logic to them as well (even if it is not his default method of logic). Moreover, Janus' adoption of the more science-based mental health rhetoric in the same episode shows that this parallel goes both ways.

This opens up a new avenue for speculation: who is Patton's "dark" counterpart? There are two possibilities: Virgil and the yet-to-be-revealed Orange Side. I will now discuss the evidence and implications of both:

Virgil: It is undeniable that Virgil and Patton share a unique bond. This can be seen throughout the episodes, and it would feed into the idea that Virgil is Patton's (formerly) "dark" counterpart. The trait that both share in common is feelings - while Patton's feelings are generally quite positive with some negative ones slipping through (see Moving on), Virgil is largely negative with a few positive emotions occasionally showing. However, if Virgil is the "dark" side of Patton, it is not clear what it means for him to have joined the "light" sides or what makes him special in that regard. Perhaps it can be explained as a result of Patton's morality -- he is ultimately who dictates which sides are good or bad, so if he took a personal liking to Virgil, he would see Virgil as good and thus Virgil would "become light."

Orange: Fans have speculated rather plausibly that the orange side will represent rage/anger, which would work well with this theory. This would be another instance of emotions "gone wrong" so to speak, as one emotion that Patton (and by extension Thomas) never seems to show is anger. Anger has a certain capacity for destructiveness, so this could be why the orange side is considered "dark." If orange was Patton's counterpart, this would leave Virgil without any counterpart, suggesting that he occupies an unusual role within Thomas' psyche and is perhaps the sole "neutral" side.

There is, of course, a third possibility: that orange & Virgil are counterparts, and that Patton is the one who is exceptional. Maybe Patton's role as the arbiter of morality means that he occupies a privileged position in Thomas's psyche which cannot easily be inverted (after all, what would be the purpose in a side that makes Thomas evil for no reason?)

Anyway, what do you guys think?

[droctaviolovecraft]

ANM №: ANM-537

Identification: Human Centipede

Danger Level: Nightmare 💀 | Uncontained ❌️

Lead Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Anomaly Type: Predatory, child-targeted, nocturnal

Containment: ANM-537 remains uncontained. Global monitoring systems are in place to detect sudden appearances of ANM-537 in children's rooms through closet spaces. Anomalies related to reports of missing children and unusual pregnancies involving single mothers must be immediately investigated by Institution personnel. Global surveillance protocols are in place to monitor reports of missing children during the night or unusual childhood sleep disturbances, particularly involving claims of "shadowy creatures" or "monsters in the closet." Mobile Task Forces "Sewer Worms" and "Night Watchers" are on standby for rapid response to potential sightings of ANM-537 or child disappearances. Under no circumstances should children be encouraged to open their eyes during sleep if ANM-537 is suspected nearby.

If ANM-537 is sighted or a child is reported missing under similar circumstances, the Mobile Task Force ("Streetlight Lighters") must take action, using distraction measures such as fake police sirens and adult presence to force the anomaly to retreat. All affected individuals must be administered amnestics and relocated under witness protection protocols until further notice. The MOTHRA Institution has partnered with global pediatric health authorities to study recurring sleep disorders in children. Psychological campaigns in the form of bedtime stories, music, and educational material are being distributed to encourage children to keep their eyes closed while sleeping and to dismiss any nighttime disturbances as mere dreams. These indirect containment efforts aim to reduce ANM-537's activity or minimize its predatory rate.

Our institution is still studying the possibility of encouraging parents to sleep with their children until they reach an age not targeted by ANM-537. Instances of ANM-537 offspring, when found, must be immediately eliminated. Research is ongoing into methods to prevent ANM-537's reproduction and to contain or neutralize the entity.

Description: ANM-537 is an insectoid entity resembling a giant centipede, measuring approximately 7.70m in length, with a grotesque face resembling that of a baby. Despite its form, ANM-537 exhibits a certain level of sapience and seems capable of limited communication, often making sarcastic and mocking remarks when encountering frightened individuals. ANM-537 can travel globally through teleportation, using closets as portals to manifest in children's bedrooms. It primarily targets children between the ages of 0 and 14.

The entity exhibits an almost predatory fixation on children while they sleep. It seems to take pleasure in "touching" its victims at night, rubbing and caressing their faces or bodies with its many legs. Children who open their eyes while ANM-537 is present are immediately consumed by the creature. ANM-537 lacks traditional teeth; as a result, victims are swallowed whole and subjected to a prolonged and agonizing death as they slowly dissolve in the entity's stomach acid over several hours or days.

ANM-537 displays extreme cowardice when confronted by adults or outside forces. He will retreat from any area where he perceives a potential threat, such as the sound of approaching police cars or the presence of more than one adult in the vicinity.

Although ANM-537 is considered a singular entity, it is capable of reproduction through questionable means. The entity primarily targets unwed mothers. ANM-537 sometimes invades their bedrooms at night, paralyzing them through the use of its stinger-like appendage, which it uses to rape and impregnate them. The gestation period lasts three months, after which the mother will give birth to a swarm of fetuses with human bodies but grotesquely centipede-like features, with extra arms and emancipated bodies, as well as other deformed human features. These offspring exhibit aggressive tendencies and will attempt to attack any humans in the vicinity.

Incident Report 537-██:

During an investigation at [REDACTED], several children went missing over the course of two weeks, last seen entering their bedrooms at night. One witness reported seeing a "pale, strange face" peering through the closet before her child disappeared. When facility personnel arrived, ANM-537 was seen retreating to the closet after hearing emergency services sirens nearby.

Several days later, the same city reported a sudden and unexplained increase in hospital admissions of unwed mothers with abnormal pregnancies. The fetuses were described as "severely deformed," with characteristics consistent with ANM-537's offspring.

Addendum 537-A: Attempted Communication

In an attempt to gain more information about ANM-537's motives for performing such acts, Foundation researchers attempted to communicate with the entity during one of its appearances. ANM-537 responded to the researchers' attempts by saying:

_"Oh, look at you guys, thinking you can stop me. How cute. Seriously, I'm flattered. But we both know how this ends, don't we? You keep locking doors. I keep coming... next time don't blink. Maybe you can watch the whole show."_

[intelligence-networking-division]

>INSERTING TAPE ONE

>PLAY FROM BEGINNING

>INTERVIEWERS: LOUIS BOUCHER, [REDACTED] HUMBOLDT

>INTERVIEWEE: SISYPHUS MONROE

>PLAY TAPE

...

The tape began with Louis half talking to himself and half talking to Humboldt, discussing whatever came to mind such as whatever their respective teams have been up to and the robots they planned on interviewing.

“And you’re sure the schedule is set up correctly?” Humboldt asked. “We know who will be interviewed first?”

“Yeah, we do!” Louis replied with a wide grin on his face. “We have a ‘spybot system’ that will be arriving soon.”

“Good, alright. Hopefully this will go smoothly for everyone.” He replied. The medic was aware that some questions may be a bit touchy, and the last thing he wanted was for the interviewees to become distressed or uncomfortable. The same could be said for the scout that sat next to him at the interview table.

Not even after a minute of waiting, a knock was heard at the door, sounding like metal clanging against metal as politely as it could.

“Excuse me?” A soft-spoken yet flat toned voice asked as the door creaked open. “We are here for the interview.”

“Oh! Come in!” Louis chirped as he quickly grabbed his clipboard and got ahold of his pen. The spybot entered the room and nervously adjusted the bow on her hat before taking a seat at the table, which had a bowl of quarters in the center of it for comfort.

“We hope the commute here wasn’t too troublesome. Thank you for deciding to participate.” Humboldt said.

“To give a quick run down,” He continued, “Theres three sets of questions based in three categories. We’ll ask you all the basics first, simple questions like your name, model, and so on. You can opt to skip any questions you feel uncomfortable asking.”

“Understood.” The spybot replied. “I should also notify you off the bat that I share my body with three other individuals, although you are not obliged to interview them as well.”

"That was completely fine!" Louis spoke up. "If they want to be interviewed, that's absolutely something that can happen."

Humboldt nodded in agreement. "It doesn't take very long to set up a time for that. We'd encourage it, but again it is not something any of them are forced to do."

"Understood." She said again, as if it were the only reply she was allowed to make. "I will discuss this with them once the interview is over. On that note, I am ready to begin."

"Great!" Louis said as he clicked his pen. “So to start off, name and preferred pronouns?”

“Sisyphus… she/her.”

The pause was like if she were trying to figure out if it was safe enough to tell them, like a looming, judgmental figure that didn’t exist was always right behind her.

Humboldt nodded in response before asking the next question. “If you can recall, what is your date of production and the date you gained sentience? This is optional and can be approximate.” He continued.

Sisyphus thought about the question, trying to approximate when exactly the system came to be. “I do not know when we were produced, but I do know we originally gained sentience sometime in late 1972.”

She hesitated, unpleasant memories leaking into her mind, staining her consciousness like black acrylic paint dripping on to white cotton fabric. “Due to certain factors in our past that are no longer present, we have had to regain sentience multiple times, with the most recent instance of this being August of last year.”

The idea of repeatedly losing and regaining sentience both perplexed and disturbed Louis. From what he saw through Sisyphus’s stiff and emotionless demeanour, he estimated that she was mentally only in her mid teens.

“Would you mind elaborating on what these factors were?” Louis asked with hesitation in his voice, “Again, this is completely optional.”

Again, Sisyphus paused, figuring out how to word this as vaguely as possible while still giving a satisfying answer. “We were under the “care” of a malicious human who would take away our sentience as a form of punishment. I… do not know for certain why we continued to repeatedly regain it.” She admitted.

The prospect of such a punishment bothered both interviewers, though it began to make Humboldt wonder; When a robot lost sapience, was there still something that allowed for it to be regained? He wrote it down in a notebook while Louis wrote down the answers before speaking up.

“The case of sapience is still quite a mystery, as we’ve noticed. Regaining it again is yet another. We appreciate you deciding to share with us.”

“We can return to the general questions, if you would like?”

“I would like that, yes.” Sisyphus replied, a bit quicker than her previous replies.

“Of course.” Humboldt replied. “Next question is your model. This can be as specific as you wish, such as being a “basal” model or having a sort of specialization.”

“We are just a spybot.” She said. “No specialization that we are aware of.”

Louis nodded, writing down the answers on his clipboard before asking the final question for this round. “And are there any disabilities that you’re aware of?”

Sisyphus thought for a moment, wondering. “We have been informally diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Though, I’m not sure if it could be considered a disability so much as a disorder.”

“A disorder qualifies under this as well, yes Now, I believe that is all for this section. Unless my colleague has any further questions?” Humboldt asked as he turned to face Louis.

“I don’t think so, no. Are we ready to move on?” He replied.

Sisyphus nodded. “I am ready.”

"These next questions, then, we have determined can be... difficult." Humboldt said with a wary tone in his voice. "They will be mostly discussing your own personal experiences, relations, and the like."

He continued, "Again, you may opt out of answering any that may strike you as too invasive or bring you discomfort. You are also free to cut the interview short should you experience any distress."

Sisyphus hesitated, considering whether or not she truly wanted to continue.

Finally, she came to a decision. "Understood." She said in that serious, unfeeling tone of hers.

Louis read through his notes as he spoke up again. "So, for this next round of questioning... You say three others inhabit this hull of yours, right? What's that like for you?"

Sisyphus thought about it, and how to best describe the experience to someone who may not be familiar with 'sharing'. "We have a... 'mental landscape' of sorts. Under ordinary circumstances I would spend most of my time there while Arthur controls the body, only occasionally being forced to take control."

"...However, due to the current circumstances, I have taken on Arthur's role for the time being. Typically only one of us is in control at a time, though others may spectate."

Humboldt nodded as he made a quick note in his notebook. "Next would be your relations with and views about others. This can be about anyone you feel comfortable discussing."

"I will admit," Sisyphus began. "At the moment I only have three at least partially positive relationships outside our head. The first would be Arthur's brother, Otto."

"I... have harmed him emotionally in the past," She admitted as guilt began to seep into her voice like syrup through a cloth. "But our relationship is improving."

"Second is our father, who is patient with us and Otto, for reasons that are beyond me. I enjoy his presence."

"Outside of family, I've begun to develop a relationship with a pink scoutbot. While she is occasionally expressive in ways that... frighten me for reasons related to my past, I greatly enjoy her presence."

"Pink scoutbot... Interesting!" Louis said while he fidgeted with his pen. "Are you aware of any other robots that deviate from the standard red and blue coat of paint like that?"

Again, Sisyphus thought, only recalling one other robot that matches Louis's description. "Just a green medibot, I believe."

"Hm... I believe I've met that one.' Humboldt said as he recalled. It was a little while ago, but he was glad to hear she was doing okay. "Given that you have mentioned that you have a guardian of sorts, is there anything else you'd like to bring up about him? Anything regarding how having a guardian might influence your day-to-day life?"

"Arthur has stated that he is the one that designed us robots."

"I feel as though we would be in a much worse place without him, likely living in the woods or under the "care" of a less unusually kind human."

"He... also aided me in having the courage to deviate from the identity I was given upon gaining sentience."

"How sweet..." Louis commented, feeling genuinely touched before remembering what he's supposed to be doing. "Anyways- apologies. I believe we're ready for the last round of questioning, unless Humboldt here has anything to ask?"

The doctor thought for a moment, and as far as he knew, nothing came to mind.

...Until.

He spoke up, "I have one question, actually. You said your father designed the robots, is he still working on such pursuits?"

Sisyphus shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of, no. Father is no longer employed under the man that created us robots."

A quiet sigh of relief came from Humboldt as he wrote something down. "Noted, thank you for answering." He replied. "Now, this next set of questions is more intensive, and we understand if you wish to answer none of them. They involve discussions of experiences with humans, Gray Mann, and the human mercenaries."

Humboldt figured these questions would cause more intense reactions in the robots, which is why he wanted to warn her ahead of time.

"Do you wish to proceed?"

"...These results will be published, correct?" Sisyphus asked. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would make more humans view robots as people. At the same time, she felt their efforts would be in vain, but she might as well help while she has the opportunity.

"They will be, yes. That is part of our process."

Humboldt paused to think. "If it does worry you, we can wait to publish your results until after we have more information from the others."

"Ah, no. No need." She reassured, taking a moment to let her fans whir. "I... I believe i am ready."

"Great!" Louis said as he sorted his clipboard. "So, other than your past experiences with that... less than desirable human, have you noticed that you're treated differently for being a robot?"

"No, but that's likely because I only tend to interact with Father and other robots. I do believe i would be treated differently if I ever chose to interact with humans other than yourselves and Father."

Humboldt nodded. "Alright, noted. What about your opinions regarding Gray Mann?" He asked, fully expecting this question to be avoided entirely by most robots, and he couldn't blame them.

"Its good that he's dead." Sisyphus responded bluntly. "As long as he was alive, no robot would be able to live without the constant threat of death looming over them."

Louis made a 'hm' sound while he tapped his gloved fingers on the desk. "To be fully honest with you, I'm glad he's not around, either. If I were to create a robot army and some of them turned out to be sentient, I would-" He cut himself off, realizing he's rambling again.

"...Apologies. Anyway, what are your thoughts on the mercenary you were modelled after?"

Sisyphus had her own thoughts on the matter, but for the time being she chose not to discuss them. "I don't have any in particular. The four of us have thoroughly detached ourselves from the idea of being a spy, and therefor at all related to the original spy."

"Hm... interessant" Humboldt muttered to himself before moving on. "I believe that concludes the questions, unless Mr. Boucher has something to ask? And of course, if there's anything you'd like to know, feel free to ask"

"If you call me that again I'm going to recoil into my own skin." Louis shot back. He absolutely did not expect to hate the nickname as much as he did. "Anyways, no. I don't have anything else to ask."

"I will take my leave, then." Sisyphus said as she got up from her seat, walking to the door and opening it up.

"Thank you for your participation. We appreciate it greatly." Humboldt said as Sisyphus left the room. "Should you have further comments to make, feel free to contact one of us."

"Noted, and goodbye." Sisyphus said before leaving the interview room, closing the door behind her.

>EJECTING TAPE ONE

[rosewood-multifandom-writer]

For the grown adults crying and bullying over dead dove do not eat content, you guys are fully grown. Stop invading the tags with your harassment and unnecessary call out posts, block people over content you don’t like, filter out tags you don’t want to be associated with because believe it or not the tag filtering system on Tumblr works wonders, especially when I look at fandoms where incest ships are the popular ships, so I filter out the incest tags or any related tags. Trust me, it really works. I’ll even go as far as if you don’t like what I’m saying here, well you know what to do next.

And also, find better things to do than bully people over fiction. You look like a peaked-in-high-school bully who picks on others to take your anger out on. It’s embarrassing. Even more embarrassing, the fandom the media is based on will sometimes contain dead dove content too.

In fact, go to your local library or Barnes and Noble or Amazon or any website that sells books. There is literature with content just as disturbing as the dead dove fanfics. You can even purchase certain hardcore horror movies like any of the exploitation films from certain stores that sell them.

I’ve decided to specify what I’m referring to since it is still going. The Leon Kennedy related tags. I can’t look at that without seeing hypocritical and contradictory arguments. There is literally an instance in Resident Evil Vendetta where Glenn Arias stalked, kidnapped, harassed, and tried to force Rebecca Chambers into marrying him after putting her in his dead wife’s wedding dress while she was knocked out. He also implied that he is very willing to have sex with Rebecca after she becomes an A-Virus zombie. Let me repeat that. A dude wanted to forcefully marry a woman against her will and when he couldn’t get that, he wanted to zombify her and is willing to have relations with her as a zombie. So using the logic against the people having moral superiority over literal fiction, if you watched Resident Evil Vendetta, you are condoning the creepy stuff Glenn Arias did to Rebecca Chambers. Same thing with the terrorism. And the murder. And the cannibalism. And the canonical toxic incestuous relationship between the Ashford twins.

[thegreatstrongbow]

Some more fleshed out PTSD hcs for Beleg

Beleg has PTSD from 2 (sometimes 3) instances: The Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the Gaurwaith Incident (and his death, in verses where he survives it or is reborn without full healing) Before that, sure, he had seen Shit, but it had never affected him so deeply. The Nirnaeth shakes him to the core – the Sindar don’t do full, large scale battles, they are ambush, skirmish fighters. Now he sees why – so much death, so much suffering, and he didn’t stay to help the wounded, he fled.

That is when his drinking starts to veer from ‘elf with high tolerance that likes to have fun’ to ‘this is a Problem’. He can’t sleep – when he closes his eyes he sees the dead reaching for him, thinks himself back on the battlefield. He hides it well for now – most of the worst of it is confined to the late hours of the night when he is alone and the shadows look like hands reaching for him. Then. The Gaurwaith. This is where the worst of it comes from. He stops drinking entirely. His becomes intensely paranoid, jumpy, almost skittish. If he is in an unfamiliar space, he gets anxious and starts tracking exits. Sometimes he can be found sitting alone and staring out into the nothing, dissociating. Certain phrases and sounds, objects etc can trigger flashbacks or dissociation episodes. He avoids things that might remind him of the incident – which is not easy or very successful in Amon Rûdh. He struggles to trust his own impressions of people, he struggles to trust people’s intentions. In relevant verses, the memory of his death is less of a memory and more a series of sensations and impressions. Struggling, pain, suffocation (being buried alive sucks), terror. It comes back to him sometimes, very vividly, but he often ‘forgets’ it again. In terms of PTSD, the main symptoms he experiences are disturbed sleep and paranoia.

He blames himself for all three instances, constantly turning them over in his head and thinking of things he could have done to make it go differently, even though for example, he could not have stopped slaughter at the Nirnaeth – he still thinks it was his fault. He is a lot quicker to anger and more easily frightened – and for example, if he was ever tortured again, he would give in very quickly. And he knows this. It makes him feel a lot of shame and guilt. Engaging in reckless and self-destructive behaviour (e.g everything he does ever) He becomes very closed off and unwilling to let new people close to him. He loses all his interest in sex or intimacy, this is the blow that ends the Hoe Era. It takes him a long time to be willing to fall in love or open himself up to that vulnerability again.

[thevlassicpickleenjoyer]

Manifesto Ambiguorum(Manifesto of the Ambiguous) Oedipus and the Sphinx, The Re-Enactment, and chess scene photo from The Seventh Seal, all works listed chronologically that I have posted before that have no correlation to one another when I had posted them to my blog. Reflecting, there is a core, underlying theme that I have subconsciously incorporated to my blog post and media choice. In art, in media, in photography, we ingest media that does not necessarily provide the audience absolutely everything that there is to be learned from just one instance of this media, in media, we do not fully understand media. This unique ability certain art forms may possess allows the audience to infer on the meaning or objective of the work, it allows the audience to use their own creativity or imagination to add to the story, to create their own definition or meaning of the work. In the works stated previously, are remarkable examples of this amazing feature certain media may have. These works will help me explain how ambiguous artworks and media are better suited to captivate audiences due to how much there is to be inferred.

Chronologically, I have posted a blog regarding Oedipus and the Sphinx on September the thirteenth, even after all this time I still remember how much there is to question and deduce from this beautiful art piece. The art piece surrounds itself around the story of a Greek prince who has to solve a riddle from the mythical creature the Sphinx. With no context, the audience is encouraged to use their curiosity, while there are so many questions to arise, like why is this creature confronting this man, why does the man come armed, and why oh why are there bodies at the base of the painting? The ambiguous nature of the artwork is what drives the audience to tie these context clues together, to create their own answers, which ultimately creates for a more attention-cultivating artwork that leaves the audience gazing for hours, artworks can always steal one's attention, but unlike void and redundant medias that simply capture eyes and not much more, this artwork is able to capture and store a viewer’s attention due to how there is details that allow one to draw conclusions not necessarily provided, allowing for to be inferred. Dull media, non-mysterious media do not allow for the audience to answer their questions on their own, to the degree ambiguous works do, they provide the audience too much context and clues which does not allow the viewers to infer at the level other, ambiguous works do.

The Re-Enactment, one of the most unique media forms from the list of artworks I feature in my blog posts, is in the form of a video. Recorded in Mexico in the early 2000’s, Francis Alys and Rafael Ortega capture a video of a man walking around a bustling city with a firearm in his hand, openly brandishing this weapon until he is arrested. This video features a brief verbal interaction at the very beginning then bare silence from the main character while he travels this busy city. There are simply too many questions that go unanswered in this media, like why would this man do this, what was this man gonna do with this weapon if he never got apprehended, and why did it take law enforcement so long to take him in? This media is so mysterious in the way the main character is a shady figure, he is wearing glasses, pants, and a coat which conceals his body and eyes, making him seem even more sketchy on top of having a gun! The audience is aided to assume that this figure may have ill intentions with his ominous appearance, even people captured in this video look visibly concerned to the point their stay out of his way, make faces, and stare at him. All these ominous and disturbing features this character possess makes the audience, including the people on the street walking alongside this man, question. Question what is the meaning of this, what is the long-term goal, and what is going to happen any second. This creates an intense, addictive effect that makes scared people on the street, or the people watching this video stare, captivated by what will happen, how it will happen, and how it is just a matter of time before something bad or grave happens. This media in the form of a video is great at capturing the audience's attention due to how much there is to be deduced and in turn, inferred from this video.

Lastly, the chess scene photo from The Seventh Seal, a 1957 movie about a Swedish crusader knight that comes home to his country, but notices it has been overrun with the black plague, and he must now confront death! In this black and white photo, there are two figures converging over a black and white chess board, with black and white knights, pawns, kings, and queens, with polar opposite appearances and facial gestures. This photo works in opposites, opposite colors, opposing teams(chess), opposite visible emotions, and opposite demeanors. The entire picture is incredibly contrasting and this creates emphasis on what is truly happening, the chess game, at the center of the frame this game is being complimented by color and arrangement, right in the middle. The audience, once they have taken in this lack of color, are left with a few questions but with few answers, like why is one man so intense and the other so light-hearted, one with no emotion and the other smirking, hell, why are they playing chess in the first place? The contrasting theme of this photograph creates and strengthens the focus on the chess game, right in the middle, where two opponents meet, where one will lose. This excellent camera work, lighting, color palette, and scenery allows the viewer to be captivated by the event transpiring, like yin and yang two opposites are duking it out utilizing two opposite colored chess pieces. In a single second, in a single frame, in a single photo, there is an ambiguous tone that the audience is subjected to which helps their creativity draw their own conclusion, such as who will likely win. If it wasn't just two colors, if the characters were dressed a little differently, if there wasn't such an intense and important feeling drawn from  witnessing this chess match, there would be nothing to be deduced from this work. The unique ambiguous element this photograph captures is what truly propels its ability and efficiency to capture a person’s gaze. And hold it.

[tv--fan17]

You'll never see a middle aged man trying to be genuine friends with a 19 year old boy. Why? Because obviously he's not mature enough to be on the same level as him or share the same worldview. Gender ideology's contradictions become apparent in debates about access to sex-segregated spaces. While activists argue that gender and sex are distinct, they often conflate the two when pushing for access to women's spaces, creating confusion and undermining feminist efforts to protect sex-based rights. Society s discomfort with the intersection of gender and males can sometimes manifest in horrifying ways. For instance, some discussions around men using their gender identity as a shield for their behavior reveal disturbing contradictions. Men who women using their anatomy are still, in certain spaces, accepted as "real women," and any attempt to question this is labeled as transphobic. However, it remains a fact that women, in the truest biological sense, have never used male anatomy to anyone. And… if you want to actually help women (mainly the ‘sex workers’) you’d help us fight for these protections and fight against capitalism, but instead you’d rather kiss the feet of capitalism. Your children can be taken from you, and you can be forced to pay child support and denied visitation. Yes, even if you aren't abusive, they can lie about you in court and have a fair shot at being believed. Especially if they're male. I never expected boy to spreads peanut butter in the doop hole. The penis may be squogulous, but it still knows how to pingas.

dead rat…PINGAS…Quantum Leap… All mutionsing.