#I am from the United States though which might have something to do with how I didn’t know…

[w1ng3dw01f]

my fellow Whovians and Torchwood enthusiasts

In all the years that I have been in this fandom (which is a lot, like I’ve rewatched Torchwood and different DW arcs consistently for at least a decade)…

WAS NO ONE GOING TO TELL ME THAT IANTO HAS A FUCKING SHRINE????

OR WAS I SUPPOSED TO FIND THAT OUT MYSELF?!?!?

Like damn I was tryna have a good treat-myself day trip to Cardiff and all of a sudden I spot this?!

All of the pain just came flooding back into my soul.

[featherymainffins]

Me when I have plans but my head looks like a trashcan on fire and like 3 separate "mes" are arguing with me about said plans

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[akirathedramaqueen]

No rest for the wicked

What often keeps my mind occupied and worried for the last couple of... weeks, or even months, maybe, is what might happen to Stolas's relationship with Octavia in the near future.

We know something bad is brewing. The trailer gave us enough information to freak out but learn nothing from it. I think though that I have found yet another foreshadowing, and I am sad I did. I was not sure if I should post it since predictions and speculations are not quite my style, but fuck it, I’ll roll with it. I want you to suffer with me <3 Besides, after yesterday's @tealvenetianmask's wonderful post about Stella and how society enables her behavior, and my rambly reblog, which delves more into Stolas's relationships with Octavia and how they are affected, I decided I need to let it out of my system.

So, you see... while I believe this screenshot is our last hope for us, the Stolitz nation—that these two dumbasses will have ANOTHER chance to talk properly...

It implies that something arguably worse than their breakup is going to happen. Something on the 'whole palace is in ice and Stolas is in immediate mortal danger' level of 'worse.' Something bad enough to make them forget all the shit they’ve gone through with their disastrous miscommunication and unite to face a common threat.

Andrealphus.

Something that would make Stolas to leave quickly and forcibly. Run for his life. Disappear, sweeping off his trail, without Octavia knowing...

And let her think he ran off with Blitzø.

Are you gonna run off with him and leave me behind? Go away, where I can't find you?

Make her run around the palace looking for him and not being able to find him. Because he isn’t there.

Daddy! Daddy... I had a dream! A really bad dream! I was looking all over the palace, and I couldn't find you anywhere! You weren't there!

And the worst part is that it would make her assume the worst: that he left her behind just for a weird red dickhead.

Why?

Because Stolas's relationship with Blitzø has caused a rift between the prince and his daughter.

Because he, unfortunately, has never told her what kind of mother Stella is, or what she has done to him. She is left to believe everything was okay until that imp came around, seduced her father, ruined her family, and wrecked her home.

Because Stolas grew distant and forgot about the important stellar event he promised to show her. Was he wrong for it? Of course not! Stella made everything to throw him off the rails completely that morning. But Octavia still has the right to be upset.

Not to mention that she’s nowhere to be found since that night in Los Angeles… Why isn’t she around? Is she resentful toward him? Is she being kept from him? Or is he keeping her at arm's length because of the assassination attempt and his deteriorating state of mind? What happened?

I can already see how Stella and Andrealphus could use all of it against Stolas, grooming Octavia and simmering her in hatred for him. Bluntly lying about true reasons Stolas fled.

Stolas kept silent about the abuse he survived, hoping to protect Octavia and let her live a perfect childhood. But instead, she won’t have a single soul to support her, since Stolas will be chased off and hated. By her. Surrounded by vultures who now prey on her, who have couped her father and forced him to break the solemn, earnest promise he made to her.

What?... No! No, no, never! I'd never do that. Never...

How fucking tragic is that?

[meazalykov]

Good Game, Sal

Salma Paralluelo x Barca!Reader

summary: are they enemies, or lovers?

Salma Paralluelo and I, both rising stars of Barcelona's Femeni team, shared more than just a common jersey; we shared a rivalry that burned hotter than the Catalan sun on a July afternoon.

Salma, with her quick footwork and innate goal-scoring abilities, was a product of La Masia, Barcelona's renowned youth academy. Her journey to the top seemed paved with gold, crowned by her recent triumph in the World Cup with the Spanish national team. Me, on the other hand, hailed from a humbled path, I considered my talent raw and untamed, molded through sheer determination and grit.

Growing up in the United States, I’ve played through many unknown summer leagues, clubs mainly filled with boys, school teams, and futsal in the winter months before I put the pen on paper with Washington Spirit at the age of 15. 

After four great years with building my talent, creating new friendships, and enjoying my life in the United States Capital, my contract was expiring. 

Washington Spirit offered me a renewal, but Barcelona contacted my agent with a proposal that sent my jaw dropping to the floor. The Catalan Club was my dream club while growing up. I’ve admired Alexia Putellas, Ronaldinho, Messi, and Xavi for years. So I followed my heart and denied another four years in Washington DC, so I can accomplish my dream. 

However, I had to put in hard work when I arrived in Barcelona. This challenge was needed, since the challenge to score on the pitch fuels my passion. However, I didn’t expect a rivalry to happen WITHIN the club rather than the opponents I’ve played against.

First, it was a constant competition for playing time. Overtime, I’ve thought that I harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Salma, envying her success, her effortless grace on the pitch. 

Against Madrid CFF, my debut game in September, I scored a brace that drove the club to win 4-0. Afterwards, I’ve held a record for scoring at least once in a game I’ve had minutes in. 

However, Salma seemed to have the upper hand when it came to having a start. I had to swallow my pride every time I had to be her 67th minute substitute. She always hugged me when she would come off, but my body would tense up everytime. Nobody noticed the small resentment for her, except for Salma herself. She started to piece small things together. 

“You did great today Niña, I'm impressed by your dribbling and speed in training.” Alexia, or my captain Ale, patted me on the back as we headed into the locker rooms after training. A few days ago, we won the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Thanks to a goal from Aitana, Fridolina, and I. 

Alexia was a huge advocate for me which made my heart melt. I’ve admired her as a fan but now I am her teammate, so I express my gratitude to her whenever its possible. 

“Thank you. I learn from the best people surrounding me.” I smirked and Alexia breathed out a chuckle. Something the girls noticed when I came to the club is how much I’ll compliment or support people on their skills. Aitana said that I've been a light in the dressing room when it comes to boosting morale. This is a reason why people don’t notice a small resentment I held for a-certain-someone on the team. 

“Well, Don’t get your hopes up when I say this— but Jona might consider you as a starter for the final— Don’t take that as a guarantee, but your speed will be needed against Lyon's defense” Alexia’s Spanish accent poked through as she held onto my shoulder. The Spanish are very affectionate. 

“I won’t get my hopes up— I do take that as a compliment though.” I said. 

“Good. We’ve been looking between you and Salma as the third forward in the finale. Since Frido and Caro will have the left and right wing.” Alexia spoke. I felt my stomach turn at her name. Aware that I will have to work harder in training to start in the final, I know Salma will do the same thing. 

A week later, my “animosity” towards Salma only intensified when I discovered that Salma will start in the final over me as a striker. Back at my apartment, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve worked hard in training. My tears represented the fear that nobody is seeing the skills and potential I have. 

“Hey Y/n” As I walked out the locker room after training one morning, I turned around and saw Salma approaching me. My eyes widened and I turned to walk away in a hurry. 

“Hi.” I said quickly as Salma continued to walk beside me. What did she want? 

“We should go watch The Challengers movie with Esmee on our day off Sunday. I know you both used to play tennis and such, it looks like a great movie.” Salma hesitantly spoke. My eyebrows knitted together at what she said. I did play tennis for a few years in middle school back in America, but as a hobby not a sport. Esmee told me that she could’ve gone professional at tennis in the Netherlands but chose football instead. The Dutch girl is the only person that knew about my old tennis hobby, so she had to have told Salma about it. 

“Um–” I say as we both pushed the glass doors outside into the parking lot. As much as I wanted to say no, express to Salma how much I've resented her, and drive home.. I couldn’t. I felt my heart ache as I looked at the girl who had a shy smile. Wait– huh? Why am I doing that?

“I–I can go with you guys–Just have Esmee text me the details when you guys decide the time.” I said before walking away to my black SUV, my emotions not handling what Salma might’ve said or reacted to my acceptance. 

The last few days before Sunday came along. I’ve talked to my best friend, Isla, about everything. She doesn’t live in Spain, since she plays football for Gotham FC, but she had a clear understanding about the community.

After my rant which lasted an hour, Isla said something which made my heart stop for a quick second. 

“Are you sure that you hate Salma?” Isla asked over the facetime call. 

“Well-No! I don’t hate anybody, I just hate how big of an advantage she has over me.” 

“Oh– because it sounds like you’re in love with her–” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well the way you’ve talked about Salma reminds me of how I started off with Esther here at Gotham. However it was the other way around. She was in love with me but refused to accept it– so she found reasons to try and hate me instead before she was forced to confront the truth.” 

That part of the conversation replayed in my mind for the last few days. Throughout training, throughout the game against Granada that won us the league, it replayed non-stop. It didn’t distract me but I couldn’t look at Salma without questioning if I am in love with her. A subtle shift began to take place within my heart, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Salma started noticing the small things too. After the Granada game which granted us Liga F champions, she noticed when I wrapped my arm around her and Esmee as we jumped around in the red-colored locker rooms. I’ve noticed that as I started to slowly accept my possible feelings for her, my “resentment” faded away with it. 

“Good game, Sal.” I whispered in her ear as everyone posed for a group picture in our “Liga F Champions” shirts. She looked at me with widened eyes before smiling softly.

I found herself drawn to the challenge Salma posed as the Champions League final was coming up. Salma always craved the intensity of their encounters, the adrenaline rush of chasing victory side by side with her rival, just like I did.

By Sunday, the day where Salma Esmee and I will go to the movie theaters, I've accepted it—I finally realized the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. Due to past heartbreak, I didn’t want to fall in love again but here I am in Spain. As I stood in the mirror, looking at the nice casual outfit I've put on (imagine what outfit you want, reader <3) I knew with absolute certainty that what I’ve felt went beyond rivalry with Salma, beyond competition.

It was love.

In that moment of clarity, my resentment melted away. I knew that I couldn't keep denying her feelings any longer, but a fear started to grow inside of my heart. What if it's too late? 

Salma did notice my resentment towards her. There were times where I’ve blown her off because of that. I couldn’t blame her if she started to hate me for what I've done to her. 

Four hours later, The Challengers movie ended. I’ve sat in-between Esmee (on my left) and Salma (on my right) in the movie theater. The movie was good but I had the urge to look at Salma at times. Once, I looked down at her hand that wasn’t too far from mine. As much as I wanted to reach to hold her soft hands, I couldn’t do it. What if she pulled away? What if things would’ve been awkward between us? I didn’t risk it. 

When we hugged Esmee as she left the theater, it was Salma and I in the parking lot. I could’ve said bye and left too, but Salma wanted to say something to me. Esmee and her gave each other an unknowing glance, so I believe Esmee might know what Salma is feeling. 

“Y/n, Why do you hate me?” Salma frowned. My heart broke as I bit my lip in nervousness.

“I don’t.” I said I looked at her with a sad smile. 

“Yes you do. Every time I wanted to talk to you at practice, you always ran away to talk to someone else. I’ve noticed that you’re the only person that never congratulated me separately after a goal. I’ve seen the way you’ve brightened up people’s days with your compliments, love, and hugs. Why can I not have that Y/n? Did I do something to you for you to hate me? Just tell me because I don’t want to start off next season knowing that you might hate me for something I might’ve done.” Salma took my left hand and held it with both of her soft, moisturized hands as she looked me in the eyes.

A tear fell out of my left eye as I felt guilty. I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt Salma and she doesn’t know why— I need to tell her how I feel. 

“Salma, I don’t hate you at all. I am so sorry for what I've done to you. All you did—really—was be great on the pitch. When I came to Spain, I noticed how loved you were by everyone. You had the minutes, skills, awards, and recognition that I could dream of having. However— I’ve admired you more than everyone else at the same time. I know that's hard to accept due to what I've done to you, but I felt like you were too good for me. I look at you more than everyone else. I wanted to hug you and congratulate your success with you but the vulnerability scared me. I’ve been hurt before so in order to protect my feelings, I’ve covered it up with resentment— Salma, I am in love with you.” By the time I told her that I love her, tears poured down my cheeks and Salma held me in a hug, tightly, as she cried too. 

“Y/n, I am in love with you too. That's why it hurt me when I believed that you might’ve hated me.” Salma said through her tears.

“I am so sorry–seriously. I don't hate you. I love you. I will never hurt you like that again, I swear.”  I said. 

After that night, we started over and became lovers. Our undeniable bond blossomed between us. The team adored our relationship and were happy for us. I did keep my promise, I never hurt her again. I’ve found love in giving my love to her without the fear of getting hurt. After the debut game in the 24/25 season, we walked off the pitch hand in hand, my heart fluttered as I know this is the beginning of our longtime relationship. 

<3

[lillaydee]

Matchmade Part 4

Millionaire! Joel Miller / Reader

Having experienced traumatic, life altering events, a freshly divorced Joel worked to repay his debt to the person he owed his life to.

WARNINGS:

Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Character Death, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 3

---

Joel went home with a headache that day. He wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of his injuries, or the frustrations he felt at getting no information from the nurses at all. They wouldn’t tell him anything. They wouldn’t even tell him your first name. He asked for your number, your address, email, even asked if they could contact you for him and have you call him instead, all met with sorry sir, we cannot provide that information for you, or sorry sir, we cannot do that for you.

He really wanted to get in touch with you, needed to tell you how sorry he was, to see if there was anything he could do for you. For Allie. The girl who saved his life.

He asked his Mama to take Sarah for a bit, he needed to sleep this headache off. He woke up just as the sun was going down, his room darkened.

“Hey old man.”

He jerked in bed, turning to see Allie sitting cross-legged in the reading chair by the window. He turned to switch the lights on.

“No, please don’t. The lights hurt my eyes.”

Joel looked at her through the dim lights. She didn’t look like the same chirpy, confident, teasing Allie he had met. Her shoulders was hunched, her head down, hands playing with her shoelaces.

“Allie, I’m so sorry kiddo.”

She shrugged. She looked sad.

“When it’s your time… I tried though… but…”

She gave him a weak smile.

Joel didn’t know what to say to her.

“I heard what you said to me. That day, in my room. Thank you for visiting me. I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

“Never. You’re unforgettable kiddo.”

“You said you have a kid?”

“Yeah, Sarah… she’s three.”

“I would’ve loved to meet her.”

“I think she would’ve loved you.”

She looked at her shoelaces again. She seemed to be contemplating for a bit, as if afraid what she was about to say might offend him.

“Joel, can I ask something of you?”

“Anything.”

“Can you find my sister? I don’t know where she is. I can’t find her. I need to know she’s okay. She gave up her whole life for me. I am… I was… the only family she had. She raised me. And now…”

She looked so sad, so worried, so defeated. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

“Of course, I’ll find her. What’s her first name?”

The front door slammed closed, and Joel was jolted from his sleep. Sarah was calling out for him, telling him she’s home.

Oh, he was dreaming. For real this time. The sun was still out.

He rubbed his face, trying to figure out how to find you.

**********

You pulled the shutter to the storage unit down and locked it. You went back to your car and drove to the parking lot of the local store. They would let you park there overnight. It’s been three weeks since Allie passed. And you… just… lost the will to fight.

Mrs Anders had offered you her guestroom. You couldn’t possibly count on Mrs Anders forever and was looking into some rooms to rent. Some were available but were either too far out or wasn’t available for a few months. You needed to secure a job before you could decide where you were going to live. But Tanya had subtly implied that perhaps her mother was not in her right state of mind, having lost things more often these days, forgetting this and that. Maybe having you around was not such a good idea. It’s confusing the poor old woman, who kept calling you Allie more often than not – which, magically, you had never heard. Maybe it’s time to put her in a care home?

You had bristled at this, and offered to take care of her if that should be the case. Oh no, she’s her mother, not yours. Maybe you should leave, find a cheap motel to live in for now, or work from, if you know what she meant. You were not welcomed there. You don’t get to come in and play good daughter when the real daughter was still around. Haven’t you done enough damage? Now, shoo.

You couldn’t afford to rent a place on your own just yet, not without a job, and the area was expensive. You just felt more secure if you had a job before committing to a place. But to get a job, you need an address. Mrs Anders was kind enough to let you use hers – just please don’t tell Tanya. Allie’s medical bill left you with not much to live on, even after the house was sold. For now, you slept in a motel every few days, and lived in your car for the rest of it. No sense in spending money you should be saving when you didn’t need to. It would be different if Allie was still around. But it’s just you. Sleeping in your car wasn’t too bad. The rest of your stuff was in storage, all you had with you was a suitcase with some clothes, and an urn carrying the remains of your baby sister.

Your heart shattered every time you thought of her. You worked all those years trying to give her a good life, but in the end, all she got was a simple cremation, a few of your friends and neighbours present. You simply couldn’t afford a proper funeral and the cost of the upkeep after for now. Some offered to pay for a proper funeral, but you couldn’t possibly accept their offer. You didn’t want to trouble anyone. This was your responsibility. I’ll do it Allie. I will give you the farewell you deserve. I just need some time. I promise.

On one of the days that you slept in your car, someone knocked on your window. It was Cecilia, Jimmy’s girlfriend. She was shocked to see you living in your car. Tanya had told everyone that you were living at her house. She insisted that you follow her home. You politely declined. You couldn’t do that, that’s not proper. Jimmy was your ex; you couldn’t do that to the both of them. You’ll be fine, you told her. It’s just until you get a job. She wouldn’t take no for answer, and when you declined further, she asked you to come with her instead. She may have a line for a job for you. It’s not much, and she couldn’t promise you anything, but it’ll do for a while.

You hesitated, but it wasn’t as if you had many options. She was meeting up with a friend for breakfast, and the friend owned a day care facility. Join them, at the very least, you get a breakfast out of it? You agreed. You quickly made yourself presentable in the bathroom of the store and went with her.

The friend turned out to be Julianna, one of your old friends growing up, your neighbour from back when your parents were alive. They moved away before your parents passed, but she remembered your babysitting skills, how the parents clamoured to get you to babysit for them. She was shocked to hear about your situation, although not surprised that Tanya would do what she did. The job was yours for the taking, they had just received some applications for their services, and they had to decline at first, due to staff shortage, but now, it looked like they could take in some new clients! The pay was alright, enough for you to live on your own. A few months, and you would be financially secure enough to get a place of your own. Okay, this was good.

She asked if you could start soon, she could make phone calls to the parents who had applied. Of course, you said yes. You went to the office that day and filled in the necessary forms for your employment. You asked her if she would mind you parking in the lot at night. She told you that you could live at the daycare for now, there is a room at the back, for emergency overnight cases. You could stay there in the meantime, until you get a place of your own. You hugged her and wouldn’t let go, sobbing your eyes out, silently thanking her for her kindness. She pulled a face at you when you pulled back, with a pout and a shake of her head. Don’t mention it, she mouthed. You won’t be a bother, you told her. Two, three months, tops. Just until you were stable enough to come up with a deposit. She laughed and kept telling you to chill. You had a hard time saying thank you with your heart lodged in your throat.

Okay, you thought, as you brought your suitcase into the room. Things were looking up. New beginning.

**********

The next morning, you began working by helping the other staff with the meals and cleaning – you have yet to be assigned any kids, they hadn’t started, but will soon. You were worried at first, worried that all these children would make you miss Allie too much. But being surrounded by this many kids under five? You’re lucky if you could actually think about your own problems. Someone, somewhere, always needed you. Even without assigned kids of your own, you had no time to even scratch your head that day. Miss Addie, the straw won’t go in my juice box, Miss Addie, blow on my cut, Miss Addie, Lindsey looked at me funny, Miss Addie, my toy is too high, Miss Addie, the tire on my truck came off, Miss Addie, my crayon broke, Miss Addie, I pooped my pants.

You slept hard that night, exhausted just from getting down to the kids’ levels. But you were not complaining, it’s a job. A new start for you. A lonely one, where you were alone, but let’s not get bogged down with that. Allie wouldn’t want you to be all weepy, pulling at your hair mourning her. She would want you to stand up and be strong. She was a tough girl, so you needed to be tough too.

The next day, Julie asked if you could go pick up the groceries at the store – their delivery guy was in an accident, and they needed the groceries to make lunch. She would handle the new arrival, she said. So you went.

When you came back, a new child had joined the group. A little girl. A three-year-old named Sarah. She was hiding in the playhouse when you got back, sobbing, wanting her Daddy. She had never been sent to day care before, Julie told you. She usually stayed with her nanny, or grandparents and aunts or uncle. The other staff tried everything they could to coax her out, but she refused to come out, wailing even harder if someone so much as tried to peek into the playhouse.

So you went and plopped yourself where she could see you but pretended you couldn’t see her. You had her overstuffed bag with you. You asked Julie whose bag this was. It’s Sarah’s, Julie said. Who’s Sarah? You asked. Oh, she’s the new girl. Oh? You asked, where is she? I don’t know, she said, clocking your strategy. No one has seen her yet. Oh my, you said, she must be one of those special girls. Only special people can see her. Oh… how you wish you were one of those special people. You really, really want to see this special girl. Let’s see if we can find clues about her. You opened her bag and a unicorn plushie puffed out, spilling from the small bag. Ooh… she has a nice unicorn toy. What do you think this unicorn’s name is, Miss Julie? I think it’s Tom. No… Julie said. I think that’s a girl unicorn. Lucy? Hmm… too human… maybe… Willow? Hmm… I still think it's a boy, you said. I think his name is Roger.

“Apple.”

A tiny voice said.

“Huh? Did you hear that?”

“Apple.”

“Someone said Apple! Is his name Apple, special girl?”

“Her. She’s a girl.”

“Oh… she’s a girl… hi Apple. I’m Miss Addie. Nice to meet you. You seem like a lovely unicorn. Now, if only I can see your friend, Sarah. I can hear her, but I still can’t see her… But… it’s okay, she’s a special girl. And I know only special people get to see her. Maybe one day I’ll be special too and can see this Sarah. Will you tell her that, Apple?”

“Boo!!!” she jumped up in front of the window.

You pretended to be so shocked you fell backwards. Sarah looked horrified and came out.

“Miss Addie? Are you okay?”

You looked at her incredulously, who are you little girl? Where did you come from?

She giggled. I’m Sarah, she said. You smiled and offered your hand for her to shake. And after only two more hours of coaxing from you, Sarah decided that everyone was special and could see her too.

She did well that day, even made a friend or two. She decided she didn’t like Ben, the boy had a cowboy rocking horse, who she was convinced was mean to Apple. You and Sarah spent a lot of time together. That evening, a pretty lady called Tess came to pick her up, and she very excitedly introduced Miss Addie and Miss Julie to Auntie Tess.

Tess asked you how she did on her first day and laughed out loud at your verbal report. She didn’t really have other kids around her growing up, she said. Her dad was supposed to pick her up, but he had a doctor’s appointment that ran long. He’ll meet you soon. Thank you so much for making sure she came out of her shell today. You smiled and told her it was your pleasure. Sarah gave you the biggest hug before leaving, sad that you could not come with her, but looked really happy when Tess told her she would see you again tomorrow.

The rest of the week, Sarah improved so much, greeting you with hugs and kisses, so happy to see you and her friends. She was much less shy by pick up time on Friday, and actually cried when Anita, her Nana, told her that she won’t see Miss Addie until Monday. You promised her you would see her Monday, be a good girl this weekend, okay?

She nodded, eyes all teary, and gave you one more hug before taking her Nana’s hand and following her out.

**********

Joel left the daycare that Monday morning after dropping Sarah off in disappointment. Miss Addie was out getting groceries, again. He needed to meet this Miss Addie. Since Sarah came home from her first day there last Tuesday, all he heard was Miss Addie this, Miss Addie that. All of a sudden, she wanted warm milk before bedtime, and a cold glass in the mornings, despite swearing to him all her speaking life that they made her feel eww. They made her bones strong, Miss Addie said. No Daddy, I don’t want another cookie, despite only wanting cookies for dinner for the entire week before daycare. Cookies made your teeth bad Daddy, Miss Addie said so.

Suddenly she wanted carrots and broccoli with her dinner. He thought for sure his hearing was impaired when he heard that. This was the girl who flung carrot squares at him since she could eat solids. Veggies were yucky daddy! No veggies! He tried everything. Covering them in cheese, offering cookies as a reward, ice cream, heck, he was considering learning how to puree, whatever that was, just to get her to eat her veggies. But two days at the daycare, and suddenly a request for veggies. Veggies were delicious, because Miss Addie said so. Veggies make you strong, Miss Addie said. Veggies make you pretty, Miss Addie said. Miss Addie ate a lot of veggies. That must be why she’s so pretty. She wants to be pretty like Miss Addie.

Tess and Anita agreed with her. Miss Addie was very pretty indeed, a sly look thrown Joel’s way. He ignored them. He just got divorced from a woman who tried to kill him, for God’s sake.

She wanted the green ‘pesgeti’ like the ones Miss Addie made for her for lunch when they went out to eat on Saturday. That got almost the entire family to choke on their water. Sarah? Pesto? Really? Wow. This Miss Addie was magic.

He had to delegate the pickup this past week, he had been busy. Lots to do when you miss work recovering from an extensive injury for almost two months, so he hadn’t met this elusive Miss Addie, who was never there when he dropped Sarah off.

Honestly, this Miss Addie was making him look bad. He told her that veggies would make her strong and pretty. He told her that milk was good for her. He told her that too much sugar would rot her teeth. But oh no… they’re all only true if Miss Addie said them.

He had been hesitant to send her to daycare, worried that she would have trouble adjusting. But Mrs Adler had politely refused his offer for her to come back, her son had just had twins, and she wanted to stay home and spend as much time as she could with them. So he resorted to getting a company to come clean, but the family persuaded him to place her in daycare, so she could make friends. She had been scared, clinging to him since the night before, begging him not to let her go to school.

She only relented that morning when he agreed to let her bring Apple, the overpriced, oversized unicorn plushie with her. But she had gotten embarrassed before they could get out of the truck and made him stuff her in her small bag. The five minutes drop turned into half an hour of peeling her off of him, so many tears, so much wailing, so many no Daddy don’t gos.

But when he came back from his follow up, she greeted him so happily, so relaxed, Miss Addie’s name with every sentence. He had to meet this Miss Addie who was making him look like an amateur parent. Maybe get a few tips from her. And if she really was pretty, well, good for her.

Sarah doing well at daycare was a refreshing change from his worries lately. He had returned to work and found himself the centre of attention. He was the sole survivor from that wreck. He lost ten good men, good friends that week. He felt completely useless when everyone else got declared missing and presumed dead. He made sure their families were compensated well, but surely, money was just a means to make things easier, and not a solution? He felt so guilty that his Sarah could still hug him good night, but the children of some of his men would never be able to again. He made sure such incidents would never happen again. Accidents happen, of course, but he would be darned if he didn’t do something about it.

He laid awake at night wondering why he was given the chance to live, when his friends, good men, were not. It made him a lot more thankful for his mind allowing him to see Allie, who he hadn’t seen since that evening in his dream. But with follow ups and physiotherapy and work and Sarah, he had made little progress with his search for you.

He initially thought of hiring a private detective to look for you, but when he told his family about it, Tommy and Tess brought up a good point. If someone had hired a private detective to look for the women in his life, would he trust those people? Come on, Joel, Tommy had said. She didn’t even give you her name. Tommy’s right. You didn’t. Why on earth would you ever speak to him again, if you found out he had hired someone to track you down? That’s just creepy stalker 101.

But Joel was really failing here. Short of bribing someone at the hospital to look at Allie’s record, he had no idea where to find you. He couldn’t get the way you were screaming and crying when Allie’s heart rate went up that day out of his head. And when Allie told him you didn’t have anyone, his heart broke. He should’ve been there for you. The thought of someone being alone going through all that… he simply couldn’t imagine. He had to find a way – but Williams… that’s a common name, apparently. So many Williamses live in the area.

He'll keep looking. He won’t give up.

But right now, today, he needed to make sure he was free to pick up Sarah this evening. Just to meet this famous, supposedly pretty - not that he was thinking about that bit - magical Miss Addie.

**********

You helped Sarah pack her bag up, the drawing she made of her and her dad rolled up and tied with a ribbon for her to gift him. She couldn’t stop talking about her dad, telling her how funny he was, how strong, too. She got sad when she told you her dad had a bad ‘ouchie’, but he’s better now. She didn’t like it when her dad had the ‘ouchie’ cause he couldn’t be at home with her, he had to stay at the ‘shopital’ and she was too little to go see him there. He read a story for her before bedtime, but she missed him lying next to her until she fell asleep. She missed him when he had the ‘ouchie’.

It made you wonder. She talked about her dad, her aunts, her uncle, her Nana and Papa, but never her mom. You didn’t pry, though. It’s none of your business.

“Sarah, your dad is here,” Julie’s voice called out.

“Daddy!!!” she squealed, as you were trying to zip up her bag to give to her, Apple’s horn refusing to stay inside. She ran all the way to the door, and pulled her dad’s hand inside, wanting to introduce him to you. Miss Addie, Miss Addie, come meet Daddy, she squealed. You couldn’t help but smile at this little girl’s excitement. You got up and walked to the front door, head down, hands still trying to zip up the bag, wanting to spare Sarah the embarrassment of being seen in the five yards outdoors that it took to get to her dad’s car with a unicorn plushie in plain sight.

Just as you got the bag to zip, you collided with something warm and very, very solid. You lost your balance and fell backwards, your eyes closed, bracing for impact, but you never landed.

You opened your eyes and found yourself inches from a familiar face. His arms solid and tight around your body, a smile of recognition on his face.

“Ms Williams.”

“Joel.”

“Hi.”

---

@peelieblue @feenoire @vickie5446

Part 5

[centrally-unplanned]

Serious question: How much do you think exowombs would actually improve fertility rates? I think they would help at the margins, but I suspect that disinclination to carry (more) children to term only makes up a moderate portion of the decline in fertility and all the other factors driving that change would continue unabated.

This depends on what you mean, right? The "conservative" assumption is you invent exowomb technology and it is just IVF+, a new way for individual parents to have families (but not too conservative, in real life people would have moral issues around the tech, we are gonna ignore those here). I think this would make a more than marginal difference! It has some very direct benefits; people absolutely do not have kids because of issues like:

Unwillingness to take the full time off work because it impacts careers

Health risks for pregnancy, particularly later in life

Actual infertility issues, again particularly as one ages

"Going through it again" once you have had 1-2 kids

That exowomb tech directly addresses. Some of these are huge parts of the fertility decline! I would bet fully safe/mature exowomb technology boosting the median "ready to have kids" family unit by half a kid, and it could be more.

There are deeper issues around this, for example. So I have done direct conversations with "adult, stable & childless" people, and something I hear a ton are statements like "the medical risk to me is too high", despite ofc pregnancy being the safest it has ever been. That doesn't mean that is wrong! Just that pregnancy isn't getting safer - people's risk profiles have just changed. Other statements include things like "pregnancy literally sounds like body torture, it would alienate me from my physical sense of self" (some hip amoung you might say body dysphoria). Conceptions of self-identity have changed, people value stability and self-image more, and tbh anxiety levels are higher so we are less risk-happy. These deeper culture shifts *could* also be addressed by exowomb tech; though it is far more vague how that would all play out.

And ofc surrogacy is currently a thing! Lots of people currently pay for exowombs - it is just very expensive ($100k+) and very "invasive". When costs go down, demand goes up, simple as right? And even in the most basic case, lots of single men want kids and don't have a partner.

Now there are many things that aren't addressed by exowomb tech - the high-demand parenting styles of modernity, rising minimum *expectations* around the cost of raising a kid, focuses on careers, etc. You won't get people back to wanting 10 children family. So the shift could be notable, but it won't be huge.

With the *conservative* assumptions we just gave. So let's loosen those - most people don't want 10 kids. But some people do! That is just quite hard to do right now, most women don't wanna do that and most men can't afford a harem of mother-wives or 18 surrogates. But with radically lower costs those barriers vanish. I think you would get a far larger "tail" of fertility - you would be surprised how many people would have the dream of that kind of family if it was on the table for them.

And then institutions enter the picture - organizations promoting families, or the state actively pursuing it. Which to be clear is already happening - fertility decline is real and a serious problem, states are getting very interested in reversing it. Once you open the door to "state orphanages hitting TFR targets" than any discussion of "margins" is asinine. Your fertility is what you will it.

Which might sound dsytopian! And it could be - my stance tends to be living is good and orphans that are well provided for are actually perfectly happy (turns out parents aren't that necessary!). But I admit to the other side of the case here - my point is that you aren't going to have a choice. I am betting the answer without such tech isn't going to be pretty

[utilitycaster]

I'm glad to see you mentioning how disconnected the PCs are from Marquet! I'm a little surprised that I haven't seen more discussion of this in the fandom at large (although maybe I'm looking in the wrong places), since it was a point of discussion at the very beginning of the campaign in a couple of private PoC tabletop/LARP groups I was in. The consensus in the aforementioned groups at the time was that maybe the cast didn't feel comfortable representing characters coming from cultures that were explicitly based on real world PoC cultures (but the decision to have almost everyone be an "outsider" in a PoC-coded culture had unfortunate Orientalist overtones). This was very, very early campaign (like e10 maybe), though, before we really knew the trajectory of the plot (or that they'd spend so little time in Marquet).

It definitely came up a lot early on and I think a lot of the people who felt this either left Campaign 3 quite early and said "this isn't working for me" or else said, as I did, that it is what it is.

I think my issue here is that like...Imogen and Dorian are the only Marquet-born characters and while I have complicated feelings about how people see Imogen (see my previous comments about the bizarre bordering on creepy glorification of a very white-coded Southern culture that have spread into like...white anglophone but not United States portions of the fandom) she and Dorian are both very much coded to North American cultures (Imogen, accent aside, honestly fits any rural agrarian portion of the country and honestly reads closer to the great plains than the south, and Dorian is influenced by Native American culture). I actually do think that Taliesin did a good job making Ashton feel like they were part of Bassuras (and they aren't from there originally, but did grow up there culturally), but the fact is I've seen multiple people ignore that "Bassuras" is specifically taken from Tagalog (and that Makenzie de Armas was one of the Marquet designers) and hc it as Central American rather than Filipino despite Matt explicitly saying it's the latter.

I do think that the answer, if the cast was not comfortable playing Marquesian characters (and I am not a POC so take this with that grain of salt, but I also think, with some effort and some sensitivity work, they could have done so, particularly since Marquet is inspired by but not one to one), the answer should have been to either be clearer this wouldn't be centered in Marquet and would simply start there which would have lowered those expectations and to perhaps plan an EXU in Marquet that does primarily star actors who are from north Africa, or western, southern, or southeast Asia; or just set the campaign in Issylra or something. I get that Marquet is more central and cosmopolitan than Issylra by far, but we're now in an awkward position where we might have a campaign set mostly in Fake North America; a campaign set virtually entirely in Fake Europe/debatably central/northeast Asia; and a campaign that was ostensibly set in Fake SWANA/SEAsia but really was mostly about the moon. Like, the cast doing a thoughtful but perhaps imperfect go at Marquesian characters would have, at least in my opinion, been preferable.

If it helps I think the way Matt and the worldbuilders describe Marquet it doesn't feel (to me) overly orientalist and the fandom has definitely had way more "do you see this shit Edward Said" moments than the cast, despite the fact that only half the characters had spent significant time in Marquet. Really, the narrative issue is "the characters don't feel tied to this place or invested in the same way in this plot because the plot isn't tied to this place", and the unfortunate overtones come from the fact that it was the Ostensible Marquet Campaign that got the plot that's not really about Marquet.

(as someone running Netherdeep - I will say that helps. The bulk of that story is in a lovingly and sensitively reworked Ank'Harel. I'm hoping TLOVM also does a better job than C1 with Ank'Harel.)

[burningvelvet]

random excerpts from lord byron’s diaries that feel like tumblr posts from the 1800s

“My mind is a fragment.”

“I am too lazy to shoot myself.”

“Here I am, alone, instead of dining at Lord H.'s, where I was asked—but not inclined to go any where. Hobhouse says I am growing a ‘loup garou,’ a solitary hobgoblin. True.”

“Sleepy, and must go to bed.”

“Whether ‘Hell will be paved with’ those ‘good intentions,’ I know not.”

“Got up—redde the Morning Post containing [..] a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual.”

“I wonder what the devil is the matter with me! I can do nothing, and fortunately there is nothing to do.”

“Last night, party at Lansdowne House. Tonight, party at Lady Charlotte Greville's—deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted—nothing acquired—talking without ideas:—if any thing like thought in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho!—and in this way half London pass what is called life. Tomorrow there is Lady Heathcote's—shall I go? yes—to punish myself for not having a pursuit.”

“What a strange thing is the propagation of life! A bubble of Seed which may be spilt in a whore’s lap – or in the orgasm of a voluptuous dream – might (for aught we know) have formed a Caesar or a Buonaparte.”

“Oh that face!—by te, Diva potens Cypri, I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and burn another Troy.”

“I have found increasing upon me (without sufficient cause at times) the depression of Spirits (with few intervals), which I have some reason to believe constitutional or inherited.”

“I shall soon be six-and-twenty (January 22d., 1814). Is there any thing in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?”

“Past events have unnerved me; and all I can now do is to make life an amusement, and look on while others play. After all, even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is it?”

“Redde a little—wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. ‘Be not solitary, be not idle.’—Um!—the idleness is troublesome; but I can't see so much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now six-and-twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them,—and yet—and yet—always yet and but—‘Excellent well, you are a fishmonger—get thee to a nunnery.’—‘They fool me to the top of my bent.’” (Quotations from Hamlet)

“I wish I could settle to reading again,—my life is monotonous, and yet desultory. I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy, and burnt it because the scene ran into reality;—a novel, for the same reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought always runs through, through ... yes, yes, through. I have had a letter from Lady Melbourne—the best friend I ever had in my life, and the cleverest of women.”

“As to opinions, I don't think politics worth an opinion.”

“Tells Dallas that my rhymes are very popular in the United States. These are the first tidings that have ever sounded like Fame to my ears—to be redde on the banks of the Ohio!”

“This journal is a relief. When I am tired—as I generally am—out comes this, and down goes every thing. But I can't read it over; and God knows what contradictions it may contain. If I am sincere with myself (but I fear one lies more to one's self than to any one else), every page should confute, refute, and utterly abjure its predecessor.”

“Mr. Murray has offered me one thousand guineas for The Giaour and The Bride of Abydos. I won't—it is too much, though I am strongly tempted, merely for the say of it. No bad price for a fortnight's (a week each) what?—the gods know—it was intended to be called poetry.”

“I will not be the slave of any appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. Oh, my head—how it aches?—the horrors of digestion! I wonder how Buonaparte's dinner agrees with him?”

“If I had to live over again, I do not Know what I would change in my life, unless it were for not to have lived at all. All history and experience, and the rest, teaches us that the good and evil are pretty equally balanced in this existence, and that what is most to be desired is an easy passage out of it. What can it give us but years? and those have little of good but their ending.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I am writing a story where the mc's sister got into a car accident prior to the start of the story. She needed to have her left leg and right arm amputated at the elbow/knee, as well as some rib fractures. She was put in a medical coma for a while, and I was wondering how long would it take for her to be able to move around with a crutch, or begin prosthetic fitting? She still has a wheelchair, and her pt was pretty smooth. I know this is different for everyone, but do you have an idea for a rough timeline?

Thank you very much!

Hello,

Something you may want to consider is that the wounds you described alone probably aren't going to require a medical coma. An induced coma is almost always to protect the brain and give the brain time to heal, though it can be used for major injuries to something such as the heart or lungs if the situation is delicate and the patient being awake has a big chance of compromising their recovery. A coma is a last resort. At most, they'll probably only keep her sedated, not in a state as heavy as a coma, for a few days to let her injuries start to heal. But they aren't going to want to do that any longer than they have to.

Muscle wasting is a very real possibility with coma patients. They don't move for long enough and their muscles start degrading due to lack of use. There's also the huge risk of pressure wounds, like bedsores. A comatose patient needs to be moved and shifted as much as medically safe because a deep enough bedsore can be life-threatening and that needs to be avoided. There's a risk of blot clots, because the patient is laying down for a long time and blood clots can happen under those circumstances. Also, a patient in a medical coma will always, no matter what, without fail, be in the intensive care unit because they require a lot of monitoring to make sure they're healing. She will probably need to be intubated, because a medical coma is meant to force the brain to relax as much as possible and that can often mean the patient will struggle to breathe on their own. That intubation will make feeding tubes difficult, too. Not impossible, but difficult. You might also want to consider how long she's kept under. The longer a patient is kept in a medical coma, the longer it takes for them to come out of it once the reversal medications are administered.

The coma is going to put a very long extension on her recovery, just so you know.

As for how long recovery from an amputation takes, generally an amputation will heal in three to four weeks, though it might not scar over completely for as long as twelve to eighteen months. She'll probably spend at least one week in the hospital until her wound is starting to scar, during which time she'll learn base skills like transferring safely. Once it's safe, she'll probably be doing a lot of physical therapy to get used to moving around in a completely different way. That part of the recovery process can take up to four years, if not longer, before the patient has completely adapted. Of course, people can adapt faster than that.

She'll start training with a prototype prosthetic, something that isn't permanent and it just to help her get used to using a prosthetic, once she's out of the hospital. They'll be waiting for her residual limb to reach a stable shape, meaning there's not really a massive risk that her healing is going to require a bunch of different fittings. That will take anywhere between two to six months. Once that happens, she'll be fitted with a long-term prosthetic and then she'll get used to that. At this point she's probably kind of figured out most of how to navigate life, so now she's just getting used to the new leg and continuing to learn how to adapt to her circumstances. I'm not an amputee, so I can't tell you exactly what that would be like or how long it would take. Probably at least three months if she's a very dedicated and fast learner, but that's probably a bare minimum, as in the kind of adaption rate that only happens during clinical trials where doctors are overseeing and helping with everything.

And look, she's probably not going to be all that attached to a prosthetic arm should she chose to get one. The few upper-limb amputees I know if real life will either not bother, only have one because they thought they needed it before they learned how to adapt without it, or they just use it for a few minor things, like keeping people from demanding their medical history on the streets. I can't promise you it would be more practical, but it would probably be more practical for her to have a body-powered prosthetic rather than the new bionic ones that respond to the activity of certain nerves. There's a reason some amputees today still have hooks rather than the fancy ones, because the hook-type prosthetic works and going higher-tech would be kind of pointless because they're going about their lives just fine.

Here is the source I used for the amputee timeline.

Mod Aaron

[dorianwolfforest]

I really want to hear all your points regarding hating Sabine I’m super curious.

I don't really hate her as a character, I hate how she is written.

I could start off with the fact that she's an incredibly aggressive, "beastly" character who is also non-white, with native american features, which is a harmful stereotype against native americans (See: the violent savage stereotype, not only something apparent in media (Twilight, for example), but real, tangible racism and propaganda in the united states that is still rampant) and even if she's not native american, she's still an aggressive, beastly non-white character, but I don't know if I am the person to make those claims.

Moving on, she's just poorly managed by the company. She's an evil murderer, a person lacking empathy, someone who seeks to destroy Jorvik and all it holds dear because she is promised power... and she's upset that she doesn't get to play with the other kids on the playground. She doesn't like how the riding clubs are mean to each other. She releases balloons because people are having fun. She's either the darkest, most twisted person on the island or she gets her feefees hurt because other people are having fun without her.

The way they write her, she becomes an extreme hypocrite. The other riders are bad and mean for not letting her participate in the games? She imprisoned someone in a world that would slowly and horrifically kill them. Think exposing someone to severe radiation damage knowingly and with malintent. Yet Loretta is a meanie because she thinks Ginny's outfits suck.

The other part of it is the community response. She is sexualized only and merely for her body, with her audience completely ignoring her character, her traits, her personality and her arc, only really acknowledging her "dark" side if they can sexualize it. "but they did it to ydris too", you might claim, ignoring that ydris knowingly, consensually flirted with the main character and took on the persona of someone who enjoyed and wanted the attention. Sabine would hate sabine stans, and the stans ignore that and push her personality aside because she's hot. It's incredibly demeaning to boil her down only to her body and then act as though she is something she's not, namely a person capable of loving anything other than herself and her quest for power, something that is well established in the lore of her character.

The social media team, in response to the fan admiration, has played up Sabine's character and her appearances on their social media sites, and the fandom has gone so far as to influencing the writers into making her more easy to enjoy. The writers (there are no writers at SSE, but that's besides the point) have gone back on what Sabine is meant to be and represent so that the fans will engage with their story more, and the socmed team has pushed her to the forefront of their existence, making several tweets and tiktoks about her and how hot she is. I personally believe that this goes against what any self-appointed feminist company should be doing, and that SSE has a wonderful cast that deserves the spotlight far more. Jill Goldspur, for example, is a queen and she deserves recognition.

All in all, I don't hate Sabine, I hate everything that surrounds her and, as such, I wish she would simply disappear from the story so I don't have to fucking deal with it anymore.

[onceuponatown]

The Loomis Radio School, Washington D.C. ca. 1921.

The school was located at 401 Ninth St. N.W. and operated with the call letters 3YA. By 1920 it was offering a six month course enabling the graduate to obtain a first grade commercial radio license and by January of 1922 was offering a four year course with a degree in Radio Engineering bestowed on graduates.

The school was founded by Mary Texanna Loomis, pictured in the last photo.

Born August 18, 1880 near Goliad, Texas. She was the second child born to Alvin Isaac and Caroline (Dryer) Loomis. Though born on homestead in Texas in 1880, by 1883 her parents had returned to Rochester NY and then on to Buffalo where Alvin became president of a large delivery and storage company. Little is known of her early years, but appears she had a fairly middle-class up bringing. She seemed well schooled, with an early interest in music and language (she mastered French, German and Italian) Her early years were spent in Buffalo, NY and she later relocated to Virginia. 

During the early years of World War I, she became interested in the new field of wireless telegraphy. There was a family precedent; her cousin, Dr. Mahlon Loomis, had conducted early wireless experiments with moderate success and may in fact have been the first person, in 1865, to send and receive wireless signals. 

Mary soon became proficient enough in wireless telegraphy to be granted a license by the United States Department of Commerce. Thoroughly fascinated with the field now called “radio”, she decided to turn her expertise into a career. Also, she wanted to do something that would honor her pioneering ancestor. Her idea was to do this by founding a radio school. 

Though radio was indeed, for many years, a profession dominated by men, Mary Loomis around age 40 took no notice and in 1920 founded the Loomis Radio School in Washington, D.C. and it quickly gained an excellent reputation. Ms. Loomis set high standards for the school and it attracted students not only from the United States but Europe and Asia as well. Loomis enjoyed teaching as much as she enjoyed radio itself. In an interview, she said, “Really, I am so infatuated with my work that I delight in spending from 12 to 15 hours a day at it. My whole heart and soul are in this radio school.” 

As president and Lecturer of the Loomis Radio School, Mary authored a definitive book on radio, named “Radio Theory and Operating.” 

By January 1922 the school was offering a four year course with a degree in Radio Engineering bestowed on graduates. Loomis also intended that her students understand more than just the inner and outer workings of radio. In addition to a radio laboratory (with equipment constructed almost entirely by Mary herself), the school maintained a complete shop capable of teaching carpentry, drafting and basic electricity. She reasoned that many of her graduates might find themselves at sea, or in other challenging situations and she wanted them adequately prepared. “No man,” Ms. Loomis said, at the time, “can graduate from my school until he learns how to make any part of the apparatus. I give him a blueprint of what I want him to do and tell him to go into the shop and keep hammering away until the job is completed.” 

The school appears to have been in existence at least through the early 1930's, but it has not been possible to find information after that.

In an interview given to H.O. Bishop of the Dearborn Independent in 1921, Mary was asked: “What sort of young men are taking up the radio profession?” to which she replied:

“The Kind who have grit and want to get there! Virtually all of them are ambitious and enthusiastic over the possibility of visiting every nook and corner of the world. My students are not only enrolled from various sections of the USA and Canada but from many foreign countries, such as Sweden, Ireland, England, Poland, Russia, Austria, Rumania and the Philippines. One of the brightest pupils I ever had was Prince Walimuhomed of Far-away Afghanistan. He was an extremely modest young man, keeping his real identity a secret until after graduating. He said he had no idea of earning his living by working at radio, but just wanted to know all about it. He does.You have no idea how much happiness I get out of the success of each individual graduate. My boys keep in touch with me from all parts of the world. Scarcely a day goes by that I do not get some trinket or postcard from some remote section of the world. I have made the wonderful discovery that the only way for me to get happiness for myself is to make some one else happy. I find that I am making these young men happy by teaching them every phase of the radio business so that they can earn a comfortable living for themselves and their dependents and at the same time, see the great big beautiful world.

As far as we can figure out, Mary Loomis left Washington D.C. around 1935 and moved to San Francisco where she worked as a stenographer. She died in 1960 and is interred at Woodlawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. 

Source

[mariacallous]

We need positive forms of opposition. A few days ago I wrote about one: the shadow cabinet. The proposal for a new American version of this venerable institution received overwhelming support.

In a shadow cabinet, in Britain and Canada and elsewhere, parliamentarians from the opposition party follow the actual cabinet members, develop expertise in the relevant portfolios, and comment to the press. They remind the public that other policies and other approaches are possible, and get a chance to show off their skills. (For more on the particular value of such an institution in America right now, see the earlier post.)

I have now read hundreds of comments on that post. Judging by the enthusiasm, I think this proposal should be considered by those who can bring it about.

Readers did note that Americans will need a different name for the institution. "Shadow cabinet" means nothing to most Americans, and the word "shadow" has negative connotations. So what should we call it here?

Readers made quite a few suggestions. "Loyal opposition" came up, but this is not the right term to describe an institution. An alternative cabinet would be an instance of the practice of loyal opposition: in the American setting, the loyalty involved would be to the Constitution. That would distinguish the alternative cabinet from Musk-Trump right from the start.

"Opposition cabinet" would be fine, but the resonance of that name would be negative, whereas members of an alternative cabinet would be performing a very positive service.

Quite a few people liked "people's cabinet." This is nice and short, and it carries with it the suggestion of equality. Trump's cabinet will be full of billionaires. A people’s cabinet would be a reminder that we need not be ruled by corrupt oligarchs.

One could also consider "alternative cabinet," or "alt cabinet" for short. "Democratic cabinet" or "dem cabinet" might also work. I am not insisting; and there are politicians at work with a better ear than mine for these things.

I will though make the poetic point that "shadow cabinet" has only five syllables, which is one reason why it has worked well in (non-American) English parlance for decades. Anything longer than five syllables will sink.

“People’s cabinet” sounds right.

Many of the comments were along the lines of "yes, let's do this and some other thing where great Americans monitor the government." Certainly one can imagine a number of forms of oversight. Journalists could form a team and agree to follow cabinet members. One can even imagine scholars doing something of the sort.

Opposition and resistance will take many forms. But a people’s cabinet would be a specific form of activity for politicians. It should be composed of present and past elected officials, and perhaps also past holders of high offices. Unlike journalists or academics or activists or others, such people bear not just ethical but political responsibility. They might have a political future in a restored American democracy. That is the point.

How might the Democratic Party arrange something like this? Unlike parties in parliamentary systems, the Democratic Party has no clear hierarchy, no leader who automatically heads the next government. There is no tradition of an alternative cabinet in the United States. But that does not mean that generating one is impossible! After all, a member of the House of Representatives has already suggested doing this.

The chairmanship of the Democratic National Committee is open. Candidates could make a people’s cabinet part of their platform and explain how they would form it. This would be an obvious first step.

Or the ranking members of the relevant House and Senate committees and subcommittees could serve in parallel as the people’s cabinet. Or the ranking member of one important congressional committee, such as Judiciary, could assign all of its members to serve as an alternative cabinet. Or one respected person of authority could be given the authority by some group of Democrats to form the people’s cabinet. Or a caucus within the Democratic Party, impatient with the older generation, could take this up. Or a set of Democratic governors could get together...

The essential point is to figure this out and get started!

These first six months of the Mump regime will be axial. Musk-Trump will have problems. Incompetence will tell. The mumpers who want fascism in order to get to oligarchy will clash with the mumpers who want oligarchy in order to get to fascism. Those who understand that they should just take credit for the Biden economy will clash with those who want tariffs and deportations. The mump crew will not do some of the things they promised, which is bad for them. They will do some of the things they promised, which is bad for the rest of us. But the things they mean to do are generally difficult, usually unpopular, sometimes in tension with one another, and often much worse in reality than they sound in campaign speeches.

There will be huge openings for those who want to defend the Constitution and propose alternatives. But we will need new ideas, new voices, and new forms of action: such as a people’s cabinet.

[yurtb0y]

GNAWING ON THAT OC GIVE ME INFORMATION

YESYES OKAY!!! *inhale* SO.

(this all might change later since he's still pretty new)

General info I guess (haven't fleshed out his backstory much yet.)

was a Catholic priest before the AM takeover (obvis)

he's roughly in his mid/late 30's- early 40's

he doesn't have a name yet because I'm stupid.

He lived in the United States when AM attacked. He was born in Poland and moved to the US in his mid 20's. (probably someplace like Texas or Utah... )

probably gay or in some way queer but DEEPLY in denial. (also in my mind IHNMAIMS takes place in the 60s/70s somewhere around that time so like... y'know... also makes room for the religious guilt plotline.)

Kinda stopped believing in god after long enough in AM's complex because like really who wouldn't. throwback to Ted's entire spiel about AM being god y'know the one.( Ik that wasn't meant litterally but the sentiment still works.)

As for his relationship with the other survivors and his torture.

Ellen- He'd most likely be less harsh on her and not really like.... *ahem*. use her. He'd always been a pretty compassionate man he was never like the freaky creep kind of priest/pastor. He can most likely sympathize with her past a bit as well- or atleast as much of it as she's willing to share which I imagine isn't much.

Nimdok- This mf is Polish. He does not like Nimdok. (If we're talking game Nimdok which is what I'm basing this... AU, I guess? off of.) I don't think they'd actively beef but they'd prolly just try to avoid eachother within the group. In terms of book Nimdok I think there's a slight possibility they could've gotten along. Honestly for Nimdok like... (Idr if where I saw this I think it was from a fic somewhere) but I like the idea that he wasn't actually a n*zi but since it's mentioned his memory is fucked AM just convinced him and the others he was so pin them against him and fuck with him some more. idk man allied mastercomputer behaviour. It also makes me dread thinking about him a little less.

Gorrister- Surprisingly, I think they'd get along. Even if they don't share a religion I think they'd find solace in confiding their guilts in eachother, esp with Gorrister's guilt over what happened with Glynis-- also since it's mentioned in the book Gorrister used to be an activist (which I think is more interesting than his trucker backstory from the game so I'm sticking with the activist storyline.) I feel like he's the least likely to be quite as homophobic as the others (cause let's be real here.) so maybe. MAYBE. He'd eventually try talking about some of those buried up feelings with Gorrister. Unlikely though. Overall I think they could be the closest thing to friends I can imagine with their situation.

Benny- I think they could've gotten along pre-monkey'd, (For Benny I like to combine his book and game backstory in my mind so tldr he was a professor and was later fired when it was discovered he was gay and then the enlisted in the military and killed 3 people. boom.) I think Priest oc would've respected them but after the monkey moment I feel like he'd kinda treat him like the family dog just as the other survivors do.

Ted- Ohhh boy. I have some words I'm not sure I'm allowed to use on Tumblr. They'd either get along or beef or some secret third evil and more sinister thing. Toxic without the yaoi. They make eachother worse. I need to map my thoughts out better before I write anything about them out. giggles but not in a good way.

wow I really used this as an excuse to dump about my ideas for the other survivors too huh.

Whilst I haven't sat down to ponder how AM would fuck with him I do know I wanna play off the theme of guilt somehow. I can imagine him being ripped apart by wolves for some reason that's just been like stuck in my head the whole time I've been typing all this out. Also maybe almost something with sacrificial themes? I'm kinda thinking about how Benny's part in the game ends for inspo on that it's hitting the right vibe. Please don't cancel me I'm Polish and all my family is Catholic.

Annon I hoped you liked reading this cause I had fun writing it. Also here he is again for anyone who's seeing this but didn't see the og post.

also I'm SO open to name suggestions for this freak cause I've got NOTHING.

[ink-sunflower]

A token of servitude (Sukuna x Reader)

No spoilers Words: 1095 Warning: yeah, it’s a sukuna ff after all, so there might be present some violents, dark content (though not something too much)

Summary: Reader travels to Heian age and meets Sukuna

✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧

Time is a thread with innumerable beads that are brimmed with life occurrences. It’s like a jewellery, and the treasure of it can never be purchased by a mortal. But in the world of jujutsu sorcerers, curse users and curses, one doesn't seem so unattainable.

My curse technique allows me to perceive the priceless jewellery of time. I’m called the Time Walker, but the comprehension of my ability is vague. Even I can’t be sure about how my powers work.

But one thing I know for sure: the beads of the past are unalterable and do not yield to forging. Therefore, we cannot change it. The outcome we encounter in the present is a sequence of actions taken from the past. Meaning, even my ability of travelling within the thread of time can do nothing to the formed beads. The future though is flexible. Obtained knowledge help reach the desirable result.

My master has burdened me with a glorious purpose. I have to go to Heian era to find the sword of the Damned. The blade of the weapon is so sharp that it cut everything. Even in Heian period it was lost somewhere. And my task is to find that place.

One being was seeking it. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Just his name brings fear. The powerful and the cruel being whose name alone is enough to make people tremble with fear.

One thousand is a significant number to pass. Yet it’s the least obstacle.

So my life brought me here. One moment, in the midst of busy streets. But after my eyes has falls shut and curse energy has started flowing through my vanes, the world started shifting. It takes no time in a basic understanding of the phenomenon. For me, though, it’s different. I can’t count time spending walking on the thread, calculating the right among of beads to bypass. Time as a measurable unit looses its senses here.

And after nothing but everything, a warmth of sun rays combined with placating breeze welcome me in an old era.

Feeling a bit drowsy, I spend some time sitting on the ground, unmindful of the outside world.

My state of was interrupted by a rustle of glass. I decipher a pair of human beings coming to this area.

Deciding not to reveal myself to them, I take a place to hide.

Now that they’ve become closer, I am able to discern the essence of their conversation.

“Do you think the rumours are truthful?” One of them babbles.

“Of course they are. He’s tall and monstrous. Thought some women would die to spend a night with him. Perhaps, If we are lucky, we’ll find one willing one,” the other replies. “Lord Sukuna rewards handsomely for nice offerings, brother.”

“And maybe we can have fun before handing her.”

Disgusting. Those pigs are not better ones from Zenin clan. But they can be of use. I think it’s time for a show.

“Help me! Somebody, please!” I yell, falling down to the ground. This got they attention immediately as they run to me. “Something was haunting me!”

They took a look around the forest but obviously find nothing suspicious. That makes two brothers glee thereof, they share a malicious grimace. One brother takes a rope to bound the prize and present it to the King of Curses like a toy enclosed with a ribbon.

“The luck is on our side today, brother.” And they have never been more wrong.

That’s what I need – to make them think of a prey that they have caught. A nameless face to give away as a some trinket. I give them something more to gloat: purity, so they think of me as even more worthy price.

I do not need my eyes to know that we’ve arrived to Sukuna’s shrine (or temple, whatever it is). An overwhelmingly magnificent and ominous energy emits from the walls, the power of which makes you suffocate on its presence.

Inside the shrine, I can behold the King himself.

There he is, sitting on his throne, his posture is confident and chin is high. Sukuna’s pink spiked hair slightly pushed upfront and black lines adorn his face and mighty body. The drawing in old books capture nothing of the real image.

For a second, a small second, my gaze is caged within his eyes. A bolt of emotions strikes though me, causing goosebumps to form on my skin. Was it dread or rather… excitement? I feel something that draws me in, something more subtle and complex.

A monstrous entity with four arms says nothing, but a predatory smirk appears, unrevealing his fangs.

Perhaps my boldness amuses him. I’m grateful to still have my head.

Two men pushes me to the ground, kneeling before the King. They’re forcing me to bend so low, that my forehead meets the ground.

My cue to act.

Breaking the robes with the help of mu cursed energy, I do not give them time to comprehend a single thought and seize their flabbergasted state to take care of brothers. With a swift motion, I punch them into their snouts of faces, making them land hard on their backs.

The smallest of them is knocked out within the first attempt, the other is tougher, it seems. He tries to stand up and blow a hit, but with a kick in the stomach, he ends up on the floor once again.

It is not enough for my satisfaction. The person does not deserve mercy.

Even though he knew he couldn’t have something in intimate senses in order not to stain his prize, it did not deter his hands from inappropriate touches. But I had to play a part, so I held back. I could tell, it was nothing new to the brothers, to treat women like this, and their misogynistic conversations made it difficult not to throw up.

I can pay back now.

With strong determination, I lift my leg and deliver a straight hit on his “valuable” part between his legs. A loud screech thunders though the walls. (🐣 An omelette is ready to be cooked)

The curtains close and I kneel before Sukuna. He exudes a powerful and sinister aura, just looking at him gives me a mixed feeling of awe and terror.

“My Lord, may I present you my offerings, these two fine pigs.”

Sukuna cackles wickedly, his deep voice rumbles, leaving a ringing in my ears. It flows effortlessly and enchants to listen to it.

“Well, that’s quite intriguing. Let’s see what else you have in you.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。

How was it? Should I continue writing the story?

[agentoli]

I love the flip-flop AU! I have some notes and questions, if you don't mind:

Interesting move putting Tex in red team

Maybe Maine could have Lopez's role of being misunderstood in conversation and one person (probably Wyoming, the bastard) keeps badly translating? Just a thought

Do Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie teams have armor abilities? I might have some ideas if you're interested

Where are other state name people? Florida, Georgia, Utah, the triplets, Illinois.

How much does Tucker complain about being Cyan when his armor is Aqua?

Why are Team Bravo all birds except Lopez? Maybe his could be a bird in spanish. Aquila is already taken though with Sarge being eagle

Again, love this AU! The only time I've seen something like this is a fanfic (Quantity Over Quality) where the Reds and Blues (just Sarge, Simmons, Grif, Donut, Tucker, and Caboose) were AI assigned to different agents (Florida, York, North, South, Wash, and Carolina respectively)

Ahh! Tysm for the ask!! I'll try my best to adress all of your notes/questions!!!

Tex being a Red

->Tex being a Red was pretty much the first thing I made concrete. Mostly because I knew having her on a separate team from Carolina would create an interesting telephone dynamic. Carolina keeps asking York about the woman who looks scarily like her late mother, and York is just confused because Tex is one of the most competent soldiers he's ever been in charge of.

Maine Translation hijinks

->Oh definitely. Wyoming would absolutely give shitty translations both ways, though never maliciously. Mostly just to mess with the big guy. I mean, what else is there to do in a box canyon in the middle of nowhere? Though Carolina often corrects him when she can.

Suit Units?

->I actually haven't thought about armor abilities/units because I'm playing musical chairs with some AIs and the og sim troopers (mostly red team because honestly they would have fun dynamics regardless of pairings). Suggestions for that stuff are always welcome!

The other state names

->As for the other state name people, Florida already has a spot in the story. Everyone else is kind of floating around. Though I have been playing with the idea of replacing the Flag Zealots with the rest of the state names.

Tucker hates the name Cyan

->All. The. Time. The way codenames/callsigns are given out is up to the team leader, and Church, being the insufferable little bastard he is, took the opportunity to mess with Tucker. However, he often shortans Cyan to just Cy, which sounds cooler and leads to less rage fueled distraction in the field. (Cobalt is shortaned to Coby, and Royal gets Roy. Poor Caboose can't keep up with all of these funny nicknames :[ )

Agent Lopez / Uno

On a related note, Lopez was built after codenames were assigned. Unfortunately, after one of the Freelancer game nights held every week, Lopez was unceremoniously branded with the name of the gang's favorite card game. And it just stuck. Yes, he hates it. Lopez 2.0 was given Dos to continue the trend.

QoQ

->This AU was largely inspired by QoQ! I haven't gotten around to actually finishing it, but I am already in love with the writing and dynamics.

Thanks for the ask!!!