#I think there *just might* be enough evidence to call myself plural. some type at least

[walugus-grudenburg]

Okay I've been questioning it for a while now... I'm pretty sure I'm some sort of plural... Not calling it for certain but... I'm starting to think so...

[togglesbloggle]

So, @argumate is up to some more prosocial atheistic trolling.  As is usual with such things, the conversation isn’t particularly elevated, but it does make me nostalgic for the old bbc days.  So I thought I’d be the Discourse I’d like to see in the world.  This is the post that kicked things off; correctly noting Platonism as a philosophical foundation underpinning most versions of Abrahamic faiths.  And it’s probably the most useful place for me to target also, since hardly anybody just identifies as a Platonist but most westerners are one.  So, without further ado, a halfhearted and full-length defense of Platonism:

Well, strike that.  A little bit of ado.

I’m not a Platonist myself, so this is a devil’s advocate type of thing.  Or maybe you could call it an intellectual Turing test?  As I discuss here, my philosophical commitments are mostly to skepticism, and for instrumental reasons, to reductionist materialism.  That combo leaves me some wiggle room, and I find it fairly easy to provisionally occupy a religious mindset, so I can generally read and enjoy religious polemics.  I also have a fairly deep roster of what are often called ‘spiritual experiences’; I’m probably in the set of people that are by nature predisposed to religion.  I am not religious, and I approve of Argumate saying things like ‘God is not real’ a lot.  This is in no way a retread of the arguments in The Republic or Plato’s other writings; you can go read those if you want, but I’m going to play around with stuff that I think is better suited to this audience.

Attention conservation notice: yikes.  This got pretty long.

Anyway, on to the argument.  Argumate’s main point is pretty clear, I think: ‘forms’ in the Greek sense are a function and product of the perceiving mind.  Birds don’t conform to bird-ness; instead brains naturally produce a sort of bird-ness category to make processing the world easier, and to turn a series of wiggly and continuous phenomena into a discrete number of well-modeled objects.  Basically, we impose ‘thing-ness’ on the wavefunction of reality.  And there are some good reasons to think that it might be true!  Our understanding of categories gets a lot sharper when reality conveniently segregates itself, and whenever that boundary gets a little blurry, our ability to use categories tends to break down.  If the recognition of animal-ness came from contact with a higher plane of reality, you wouldn’t necessarily expect people to get confused about sponges.

But.  While there’s certainly plenty of support for Argumate’s position, it doesn’t strike me as anything near self-evident, or necessarily true.  So what I’ll argue is that Platonism isn’t obviously false, and that if we ever converge on a true answer to the question of our reality, then that truth could plausibly be recognizably Platonist.  My opening salvo here is, predictably enough, mathematics.

‘Mathematical Platonism’ is a whole other thing, only distantly related to Classical Platonism, and I only really mean to talk about the latter.  But nonetheless, mathematics really actually does appear to be a situation where we can simply sit in a chair, think deeply, and then more or less directly perceive truths.  Basic arithmetic can be independently discovered, and usefully applied, by almost anybody; ‘quantity’ comes naturally to most humans, and the inviolable laws of quantity are exploited just as often.  It’s also very hard to argue that these are ‘mere’ linguistic conventions, since fundamental natural behaviors like the conservation of mass depend on a kind of consistent logical framework.  In most chemical reactions, the number of atomic nuclei does not change, and the atoms added to a new molecule are perfectly mirrored by the loss of atoms in some reactant; this remains true in times and places where no thinking mind exists to count them.

There are a lot of debates about what math is, fundamentally.  But inevitably when we study math, we’re studying the set of things that must be true, given some premise: we’re asking whether some proposition is a necessary consequence of our axioms.  The so-called ‘unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics’ suggests that the phenomena that Argumate mentions- hotdogs and birds and whatnot- are observed only within the auspices of a sort of super-phenomenon.  Loosely speaking, we can call this super-phenomenon self-consistency.  

We treat phenomena as having a natural cause.  Platonism, at its crunchy intellectually rewarding center, represents a willingness to bite the bullet and say that self-consistency also has a cause.  Plato himself actually provided what might be the most elegant possible answer!  Basically, posit the simplest thing that meets the criterion of being A) autocausal and B) omnicausal, and then allow the self-consistency of the cosmos to follow from its dependence on (in Platonist terms, its emanation from) that single, unitary cause.  The universe is self-consistent for the very straightforward reason that there’s only one thing.  Any plurality, to the extent that plurality is even a thing, happens because ‘the only real thing’ is only partially expressed in a particular phenomenon.  To skip ahead to Lewis’ Christian interpretation of all this, you’d say that humans and moons and hotdogs are distinguished from God not by what they have, but by what they lack.

And for present purposes, I do want to take a step back and point out that this does feel like a reasonable answer to a very important question.  Materialism fundamentally has no answer to the question of self-consistency and/or the presence of logic and order, and that is (for me) one of its least satisfying limits.  We’ve got things like ‘the origin of the universe’, sure.  But we probe the Big Bang with mathematical models!  That’s a hell of an assumption- namely, that even at the origin of our universe, self-consistency applies.  It’s not like materialism has a bad explanation.  It just remains silent, treats the problem as outside the domain.  If we’re adopting the thing for utilitarian reasons, that’s fine.  But if we’re treating materialism as a more comprehensive philosophy, a possible approach to the bigger questions, then it’s a painful absence.  In that domain, far from being self-evidently true (in comparison to Platonism), materialism doesn’t even toss its hat in the ring!

Which, uh, gets us to the stuff about Forms and shadows in Plato’s Cave and all that- the intermediate form of existence between the omnisimple core of Platonism and the often chaotic and very plural experience of day-to-day life.  And frankly, we’re not especially bound to say that the forms are exactly as Plato described them, any more than atomism is restricted to Democritus.  Whether there is some ‘bird-ness’ that is supra- to all extant birds might be contestable; however, it’s easier to wonder whether ‘binary tree’ is supra- to speciation and the real pattern of differences between organisms that we map using Linnaean taxonomy.

But, this is an attempted defense of Platonism and not Toggle’s Version of Platonism that He Invented Because it’s Easier, so I’ll give it a try.  Fair warning to the reader, what follows is not fully endorsed (even in the context of a devil’s advocate-type essay), except the broader claim that it’s not self-evidently false.  And on the givens we came up with a couple paragraphs ago, this is a reasonable way to tackle what necessarily follows.  So let me see how far I can defend a very strong claim: in a self-consistent (or: mathematical) cosmos, beauty cannot be arbitrary.

Remember that Plato never argued that his Forms were arbitrary, or even fully discrete as such; their apparent plurality, like our own, emanates from the unitary Thing What Exists.  And so, bird-ness is treated as a contingent thing, not an absolute.  It’s just not contingent on human experience.  And so for us to believe in ‘bird-ness’ is to believe that there exists some specific and necessary pattern- a Form- which any given material bird must express.

Let’s take an obvious example: any flying bird will, for fairly simple aerodynamic reasons, tend to be symmetrical.  Usually, this means two wings.  In theory, you could… have one in the middle?  Maybe?  Even that seems rather goofy to try to imagine, but you could probably get away with it if you were extremely creative biologically.  And if we see a bird with only one wing (without a prosthetic or other form of accommodation), then we will tend quite naturally to recognize that something awful is in the process of happening.

A fully materialist explanation of our reaction here would say: we think of the one-winged bird as problematic because A) we have been socialized to recognize and appreciate two-winged birds, and spurn deviations from that socialization, or maybe B) because natural selection has given us a set of instincts that recognize when a body plan has failed in the past, so things like ‘being crippled’ or ‘being sick’ are recognizable.  

Platonism, I think, would offer a third option, that C) we recognize (as emanations of The Real Thing) that a one-winged bird body is insufficiently reflective of The Real Thing, and that accordingly it lacks the ability to keep existing.  Plato had some… basically magical ideas, about how Forms are recognized, but here I’ll point out that ‘deduction’ is a completely serviceable kind of magic for our purposes.  It is, after all, our direct experience of the self-consistency of the cosmos, which follows from the fact that we are ourselves an expression of that same self-consistency; it meets the criteria.  

Materialists, obviously, would agree that deductive reasoning could allow a person to recognize the problems inherent in a one-winged bird, but as I said a few paragraphs up, their(/our) explanation of this process is rootless.  “Yes, logic and a few high-confidence assumptions let you assume that a bird with only one wing is in trouble,” they might say.  And we might ask- “what makes you so sure?”  And then the materialist must respond, “Well, let me be more clear.  It always worked in the past, and my Bayesian priors are strongly in the direction of the method continuing to bear fruit.”  True enough, but it’s not an explanation and doesn’t pretend to be.  The universe just does this weird thing for some reason; it works ‘by magic’.  So why not call it that?  Theurgy for all!

So, consider.  We recognize (deductively, let’s say for the sake of argument) that a one-winged bird is on the road to becoming nonexistent, absent some change in circumstances.  It may keep going for a little while, but it’s not in homeostasis.  And if we reasonably admit this very basic duality to our thinking- things which can persist, and things which cannot- then we start to recognize a sort of analogy between physical phenomena and mathematical propositions.  A lemma can be right or wrong, albeit sometimes unprovably so.  Basically, it can follow- or not- from the axioms we’re working with.  And in a softer but very real sense, that one-winged body plan is wrong analogously to the lemma’s wrongness.  Not ‘wrong’ as in ‘counter to cultural norms’, but ‘wrong’ as in ‘unstable given the premises, given the Thing That Exists Most’.  Look up research on fitness landscapes, if you’re so inclined- actual biological research isn’t totally unacquainted with the notion.  There exists a surprisingly discrete ideal or set of ideals, both for flying birds as a whole and subordinately for any given flying bird species.  And we have discovered this using magic.

Insofar as beauty is something to be admired, or pursued, or is otherwise desirable, then our sense of beauty must necessarily correlate with those abstract, and dare I say supra-real, qualities which allow things to persist, and which can therefore be understood deductively.  And that set of qualities does, effectively, meet the Platonic criterion of a ‘form’.

The immediate materialist objection is: hey, wait a minute.  The supposed ‘objective’ criterion of a bird is contingent, not absolute!  It follows from the strength of gravity, the thickness of the atmosphere, the availability of food sources, and on and on.  This is one of the most important reasons why genetic drift and speciation happens in the first place, because the ‘ideal’ bird depends on an environment that’s in constant flux.

True enough.  But!  How do you think the atmosphere got there?  It’s an old trick in religious discourse, but in this case I think a valid one.  The rightness of the bird depends on the atmosphere, the rightness of the atmosphere depends on the planet, the rightness of the planet depends on the solar system, and ultimately it all depends on that necessary self-consistency which (we proclaim) implies our unitary Most Real Thing.  This does mean that we can’t really think of Platonic forms as wholly discrete objects, unconnected to one another and without internal relation among themselves- unfortunately, that’s part of the original Plato that I don’t see as defensible, even with maximum charity.  But there’s such a thing as a ‘ring species’, and if we admit Platonic Forms of that type, a kind of dense network of paths being traced through higher-dimensional spaces that correspond to the shadow of That Than Which There Is No Whicher, then it’s more than salvageable.  It’s both satisfying to imagine and, I think, quite consistent with the spirit of the original philosophy.

One thing this doesn’t mean.  Even if we were to accept all of this, we aren’t obliged to resign ourselves to the lot of that one-winged bird.  Indeed, if anything this gives us a rich language by which to justify a prosthetic wing or other form of accommodation: we can talk about ‘making the bird whole’, and can see how our compassion for that bird might lead us to create the conditions of homeostasis once again.  But it does mean that if we take a position on the merits of existence- if we’re in favor- then we don’t treat a one- and two-winged bird as coequal scenarios.

Anyway, this has gone on hideously long already for what’s basically an intellectual exercise, so I won’t dive into immortal souls or any of the other ancillaries.  I mostly want to reiterate that, far from being obviously false, I do think that (some forms of) Platonism are quite defensible, and can provide coherent answers to questions that I A) care about very deeply and B) can’t resolve to my own satisfaction.  Of course, it is not obviously nor trivially true, either.  But one can be Platonist without being willfully wrong.

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 11:  On the Road...With Negan, and a Raging Case of Boredom...

We’d barely left Alexandria when it became boring to sit quietly with my own thoughts. I wanted, nay, I needed entertainment. And who better to provide it than Negan?

“How long are we going to be in this truck?” I asked first. I wanted a better timeline for the amount of entertainment I would be requesting.

“Depends,” he kept his eyes on the road, a rarity for the daughter of one Rick Grimes. “If we don’t run into a shit ton of bullshit, then hours, if we do-”

He left it hanging, allowing me to fill in the blanks. And I understood. So much in the new crapshoot of our reality was based on “if we don’t run into X then Y”. It gave me what I needed, a gauge of sorts for what kind of entertainment I’d like. Let’s just ease into it.

“Tell me more about what to expect when we get there?” I loved the sound of his voice, so anything to keep him talking. Hell, if we were sitting somewhere with a phonebook, I’d toss it to him and challenge myself to keep my hands to myself for as long as he could read through it. I doubt I’d make it until he was out of the “As”, but I’d do my damndest to try.

Negan, who also loved the sound of his own voice, told me about the Sanctuary. That it was more industrial looking and feeling than Alexandria, taking me back to the time we spent in the prison early on in our journey forward. He told me that his people, those who worked in the Sanctuary and outposts, were not all called Saviors. Just as I suspected, the Savior Secret Service were the elite. And then he told me something that brought me up completely short.

“When we walk in, they’ll all kneel.” He said it like he’d say, ‘when we have to pee, we use the bathroom.’ As though it were perfectly fucking normal for people to just get on their knees around him. Fuck.

“Kneel?” I asked, looking at his profile. He smiled, clearly enjoying the uncertainty of my tone. “You mean, like kneeling, like you’re some kind of-” I stopped, remembering what Carl had told me about that night with Glenn and Abe. And he may have mentioned it about his little self imposed field trip. I swallowed my distaste. This was something I’d agreed with doing. Being with him. Warts and regale aspirations all.

I felt his gloved hand touch mine. Somehow I’d completely gone still and silent, and his face wasn’t my focus any longer. That touch brought me back. “Hey,” his voice was low, like when he’d speak to Judith to keep her calm. “You alright, princess?”

I tried to smile, but I truly couldn’t tell if it worked. “Sure,” I breathed, thinking about walking next to the King here. “Just wrapping my head around-things.”

He chuckled and I shook my head. He was so used to being this, to doing this, that he couldn’t possibly imagine how this felt from my side. Then again, being with him and his overinflated self worth was probably going to be pretty fucking hilarious, if I gave myself time to acclimate.

“Am I supposed to kneel, too?” I asked, watching him intently. I felt, rather than saw, the truck swerve slightly. It was slight, but I noticed it, along with the fact that he’d removed the hand that touched me to join its brother on the wheel. Ah, me on my knees. Hm.. I wonder. “Negan?” I asked, quietly unbuckling the seatbelt he insisted I wear. “Baby, are you going to answer me?” I was waiting, waiting for him to get the image of me on my knees in front of him out of his mind, or at least out of the forefront of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “You won’t have to kneel to me,” he answered, his voice deliciously raw. “In public.” There it was, what I was waiting for. About fucking time.

I crawled over the seat and felt him tense up for about a half second. I knew, even if his rear guard was close enough to keep the truck in their sights, there was no way they’d see me doing this. Or even know that I’d left my seat, one of the few perks of being short. Licking my lips, even without him being able to see me do it, I really fucking needed this. And if the strain in his jeans was any indication, then so did he. Unbuckling his belts, fuck that plural belted crap, and unbuttoning and unzipping them, I offered one simple plea. “Don’t fucking wreck us, would you? I’d hate to bite this off, and I definitely don’t want to die before we get to that goddamn bed you keep promising me.”

And then my mouth took him inside for a playdate with my tongue. I know this might surprise a few of you, but Negan and I hadn’t actually spent all that much time on this. Foreplay? Who had the inclination? I imagine that was one of the best parts he hadn’t gotten to, but the fact was, when we’ve gotten naked it seemed like the very presence of the other one was foreplay. While that was amazing in and of itself, a girl needs a little protein now and again, if you know what I mean?

I took my time. I learned every twist and turn, every vein, every spot that made him hiss out a breath, or moan my name. I wanted to know how to please him, how to make him want more, how to make this man, this powerful being come completely undone. After all, he’d said we had hours ahead of us, what better way to entertain myself, then with him?

Too soon for my liking, I felt his thighs strain beneath my fingers. I knew he was about to go off like a firework in my mouth, but I felt like I’d only just begun. I would have pouted, but I knew I needed to focus. Pulling away at the wrong moment would suck, getting hit in the eye with the seed of Lucifer’s spawn would no doubt blind me. I continued my ministrations, taking care to hit every spot that I’d memorized being his favorites, and I was finally rewarded with a more satisfying protein shake than any single one that I’d been convinced to try before all hell broke loose. Who needs spinach and bananas? I’ll take a large Negan to go anytime. I was extremely careful to swallow every single drop, and to make sure that he was completely cleaned. Couldn’t have the fearless leader of the Sanctuary looking a mess upon arrival, could I? I tucked him back into his jeans, buttoned and zipped them up, then buckled up his multitude of belts. I considered, briefly, buckling them up opposite of the right way, but then reconsidered. Our relationship was still in the earliest of phases, I’d hate to be punished right away. Especially since I wasn’t sure what type of punishment Negan would inflict.

I moved back to the passenger seat, rebuckled my seat belt and sat back as though nothing earth shattering had just occurred. I could feel his gaze on me, but I studiously watched out the windshield. Not that the scenery was all that impressive, but I wanted to see what he’d say or what he’d do now. Entertainment, remember?

It was quiet as he drove, passing empty cars, passing cars with the living dead pressing against the windows, passing trees and more trees. I honestly thought that I’d broken his ability to put words together. And it was getting a bit worrisome, let me tell you.

I finally saw, out of the corner of my eye, his hand rubbing across his face. Ut oh. I waited for him to decide what he wanted to say or do. When he reached for the walkie that rested on the dash, I was completely confused.

“We’re going to need a break,” he barked through the walkie, and before any of his people could reply he gave this ominous warning. “Stop right the fuck wherever you are, and rest. I’ll tell you when we’re moving out again.” Then he tossed the walkie back onto the dash and faced me.

The urge to squeak, like a terrified mouse, came over me at the absolute darkness in his eyes. He truly looked like the Big Bad Fucking Wolf and I had a burning flash of realization that I was the tiny pig in this scenario.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered. And for once, no smart ass comment could be found in my brain. I simply did as I was told. I unbuckled my seat belt and tossed my shirt off, shucked my boots and shoes, and I was completely naked in the seat. “Lay back against the door.” Another order and I realized that Negan really was in charge. Shit. “Spread your legs,” that voice, for fuck’s sake, that voice. “Shit, is this for me, princess?” His gloved thumb swiped the very clear evidence that I was more than excited and prepared for whatever his plans for me were. Tasting the slight dampness he’d swiped from me, he closed his eyes and savored it. Jesus. “I can’t believe that you’d start this shit before we even get there, but then again, you tend to start shit without thinking of the consequences. Isn’t that what you warned me about?” I swallowed and nodded. “You’re about to see the consequences, baby, and I hope they’re worth it.” With that, his head lowered and trust me when I say, it was FUCKING worth it.

[fantroll-purgatory]

Calvis Duvide - Troublesome Tyrant

@chaoticevilfantrolls

(Heard you were doin Trollsonas)

Planet: Alternia, AU where Cusp Bloods exist and are considered more or less average trolls, and the age of conscription is 10 sweeps.

Name:Calvis Duvide To be honest, Calvis doesn’t have much of a specific meaning, beyond being a preferred lengthening of my own name. Duvide comes from the term L'appel du Vide, which means Call of the Void in French. In psychology, L'appel du Vide is a term referring to the urge to do self-destructive things without a distinct cause, like the urge to swerve off the road while driving or to jump off of a high place. Additionally, Calvis is a void player who feels drawn to the void as a sort of comfort. 

Calvis is a good name and I definitely prefer to keep it around. Now… keep track o’ this leap of logic I’m going to do here to also justify it, but Calvis is also plural for Calvus, which can serve as a reference to Constantine Calvus, a Scottish monarch who attempted to change the rules of succession of the throne and who qualified as heir, which fits with some of Calvis’ behaviors. It can also be a reference to Altolamprologus calvus, a common aquarium fish. And, lastly, a reference to Cumulonimbus calvus, a type of cloud that can look a little, uh… eldritch, sometimes. 

Yay for retroactive justification!

Age:9.25 sweeps

Strife Specibus:This one is a little tricky. Because Calvis is a trollsona, I’m drawn to giving him either bladeKind or knifeKind, as those are actual real weapons that I own and am reasonably skilled with? But at the same time, something more thematically relevant like cardKind (tarot and playing cards) might be nice? 

I’ve also given him pipeKind before, using both a smoking pipe and also literal lead pipes ala Russia’s cane from Hetalia. That’s more relevant to a massive trollsona generator me and a friend of mine made that was based on the natal astrology chart.

I definitely think in the case of trollsonas, you should go with what you feel a draw towards. If you like blades, if you feel an affinity towards blades, I’d go with that. 

You could also do the very void player thing and not have a traditional strife specibus so to speak. You’ve got a character here who seems good at talking his way into things, and who’s good at justifying his logic and having a lot of information, so maybe he could primarily rely on talking instead of fighting? 

OR you could have him utilize the tooth he wears, since that’s a nontraditional weapon that relates to his title and because it could be utilized in a way that’s a nice callback to his/your interest in tabletop games. You could utilize it like a fear spell, an intimidation roll, or even something like vicious mockery or hideous laughter. Do that psychic damage, Calvis.

Fetch Modus:Polyhedral Modus 

Calvis’ items are stored in a set of polyhedral dice (1d4, 1d6, 1d8, 1d10, 1d%, 1d12, and 1d20). It’s sort of a relic from when he was much more into playing tabletop rpgs. It’s purely random what item he receives, which is why he puts items he retrieves more often in the lower-sided dice. Funnily enough, his modus becomes more troublesome to use the more he embraces his aspect, stepping away from fortune to accept the unknown and nebulous. 

So many spots in his sylladex are filled up with items based on former or current interests, among other things that he would rather just… hide from others in general. 

Oof, I’m imagining the frustrating ordeal of rolling a d4 and landing on 1 six times in a row.

Blood color:Violet-Fuchsia cusp. The blood color is based on a blood color test that determined a hexcode value from numerical values based on personality traits of each color group (red, green, and blue). He’s kind of in a tricky situation, being just below the cut-off for fuchsia, but definitely redder than most violets. 

In the session he’s from, he’s actually in a kismesitude with the proper fuchsia (seeing as they don’t have the biological imperative to kill each other, only really squabble like idiots), who has abdicated his position as heir and given it to Calvis.

Hmmmm… I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re talking au where the cusps are still viable instead of the more established canon, so that I won’t have to fiddle with this and ruin your good fun. 

If I were going to push it into the canon range, though, I would say that him just bein a standard violet who picks up the fuschia helm for his kismesis can work about as well. 

And if I were suiting him to your au  where dual blood traits present in trolls, I could definitely argue that with nowhere else to try to represent both sets of traits uniquely, his body just kinda fell in the middle.   

Symbol and meaning: A combination of Eris and Pittarius from the extended zodiac. Eris is the goddess of chaos and discord from Greek mythology. Eris is also the name of the second largest dwarf planet in the orbit of the sun, just after Pluto.

Erises’ ma is Nyx, The Night, which is extra fitting. Child Of The Night is a great way to describe a void player. The planet Eris is also part of The Shattered Disk, which sounds cool as hell, and also means the planet has high eccentricity. Relatable, really. 

Trolltag: cynicalTeuthida Cynical: Concerned only with one’s own interests and typically disregarding accepted or appropriate standards in order to achieve them. I mean. He kind of manipulated his kismesis into naming him the heir, just because he could. 

Teuthida: Name of the taxonomic order containing squids. Mostly a reference to his lusus and 100% absolutely wholesome appreciation of tentacles. 

I think we all need to wholesomely appreciate tentacles more, if I’m being honest. …But now I can’t stop thinking about Calvis having those weird New England Aquarium ad campaign posters hanging up in his room totally wholesomely. 

Quirk:Because Calvis is a trollsona, he has sort of a simple quirk, based primarily around my personal manner of typing.

He types in almost exclusively lowercase, only capitalizing the first letter of words to emphasize them. He also has a tendency to misspell things by cutting off the last letter or last couple of letters. He surrounds his text in pointed brackets, but otherwise uses little punctuation besides commas. Expect a lot of typos from him in general, which he won’t really bother fixing.

CT: <the quick brown fox jumpped over the lazy dog>

Hmm. I do like it but I wonder if something more tentacly might be fun. {like using curly brackets instead}. It’s not really a big enough deal to stress over, but just a thought. }}=o Also check it out I Just made a betta fish.

Special Abilities:Like most seadwellers, Calvis is ridiculously strong. Probably even more so than average, given that I myself, as a puny human being, can lift about 400 lbs. He’s also able to withstand changing between salt and fresh water, actually preferring the briny water in the lake surrounding his hive to anything else. 

The idea of an extra strong seadweller scares me because Feferi is capable of dragging a whale. 

Lusus: L'lythro, a minor eldritch being that lives in a fish tank in the underwater portion of Calvis’ hive. L'lythro is known as the Denizen of Madness, and the source of the horrible whispers that fill the forest surrounding Calvis’ hive. Because of L'lythro’s terrible mutterings, the forest is believed to be haunted or cursed, known for driving lowbloods to madness or worse. 

It’s hard to describe L'lythro as anything besides a graphical glitch in the universe, sometimes taking the form of an amorphous puddle of eyes, teeth, and slime, and sometimes taking the form of an abstract concept of patterns. Calvis doesn’t mind. He loves them no matter what nebulous and unknowable form they take. He actually wears one of L'lythro’s teeth on a chain as a necklace, which carries enough residual psychic discordance to give him an unsettling aura. 

…A fun fact here is that while trying to google this name I discovered a “fossil fighters” character named The Gore King. That’s not relevant I just had to share or the knowledge would eat at my mind forever. Anyways I like this, continuing the tradition of eldritch lusii pals.

Personality: The best way to describe Calvis is ‘ecclectic’. He finds it hard to focus directly on one pursuit or another, flipping from interest to interest to endeavor to interest. Even now, as he nears the sweep of his conscription, his interests tend to branch out so much that it’s hard for him to even begin imagining what he could possibly make of himself…

So he doesn’t.

He spends most of his time collecting knowledge on whatever bits and bobs he can find, no matter how trivial, looking for some kind of validation of his intellect and talent. He reads and writes extensively, creating entire worlds he scraps once he’s become bored of them. He picks up games and hobbies like tabletop gaming and knitting only to drop them weeks or moments later. The only real consistency to him is the fact that he’s outright unpredictable. 

He can come off as a bit cold and callous, not really caring about the emotional aspect of things until it directly involves him, in which case he will get much, much too involved. He can come off as overbearing in some situations, forcing his good will down others throats so he’ll have something to parade as evidence of his virtue. 

Despite all of this absolute poncery, though, Calvis has quite a few good and sympathetic traits, no matter how much he lets them get overshadowed. He’s insightful and careful. He’s legitimately kind and gentle with the few trolls he can be bothered to care for (even including his kismesis at times). He’s just going through a bit of a rough time, nudging him gently toward his Crisis in one way or another.

I like how a lot of his traits come through as validation-seeking- which is a trait you mentioned up top but which really manages to carry through. I think if you want to carry the light/void theme and push his inversion, definitely increase his desire for Attention more. For Acknowledgement. 

Interests: Calvis has many, many interests, but not so many that he’s actually stuck to. 

He legitimately loves betta fish, especially for their bright colors and feisty attitudes. He has multiple fish tanks throughout the above-water portion of his hive, each tank filled with a small ecosystem dedicated to each of his fish. Most of them are named after snack foods. Don’t worry, he doesn’t eat them… just the fish flakes he feeds them. Don’t judge.

Calvis also enjoys collecting and decorating his hive with items of significant eldritch imagery. Teeth and eyes and tentacles are the motifs he chooses to decorate the walls of his hive with. Some of it comes off as quite lewd, not that he cares or notices much.

The rest of his interests, like collecting bladed weapons, knitting or crocheting, playing tabletop games, or writing, tend to be on-and-off. He picks them up again whenever he’s bored of what he was working on before. 

Oof, cycling through interests is also relatable. He’s a fantroll, so I can’t exactly recommend More Interests. ……..Maybe roleplay- 

Also sorry I’m just going to share one more of these ad posters because I can’t stop fucking looking at them.

Title: Bard of Void

Calvis acts more like a Maid of Light initially, relying on his kismesis for any real chance of power, yet finding luck and fortune a natural and powerful tool to his whims. He will leap at any opportunity to provide information about any topic he’s even remotely versed in, and he has a peculiar penchant for getting the right card or number when he needs to in games of chance, smirking sadistically all the while.

As he progresses in a session, or even matures as a person, he begins to accept the role of the unknown and mysterious, letting himself let go of his aggressive need to know everything, learning to go with the flow. He embraces the potential of the void, learning more about the origins of his lusus in the process. He loses out on some of his luck in the process, but like, yaknow, who cares about the outcome, man? It’s all the same in the end.

I know you’re not so keen about suggesting alternative god tiers for Trollsonas, but I did want to provide my reasoning. 

I think even if we did tend towards suggesting alternatives for trollsonas, I definitely wouldn’t. Learning to embrace the void and kind of accepting the solace of the blank sheet and getting out of the need for the limelight, the need to take the reigns and try to guide others, the despair at not Knowing what the future holds or what he wants the future to hold… It’s definitely a good route for this trollsona, narratively. 

Land: Land of Butterscotch and Tentacles

A massive desert of sugary tan sand populated by light purple Illithids, full of incomplete temples to the denizen Cthulhu. Calvis actually has two possible routes for his quest: completing the temples and receiving Cthulhu’s blessing, or dismantling them to free the Illithids from his control.

Ooh, always interesting. I do have to wonder why butterscoth tho, LOL. Sounds tasty.

Dream Planet: Derse? I prefer Derse just for the void connection and such.

Oh yeah, he’s super derse. Derse is in his blood.

Design:

Hhhonestly there’s not really a lot I would edit about his design? Violets/fuschias are high enough up that they can get away with wearing just about anything, really. If I had any recommendations, it might be to adjust the color of the undershirt or try out horns more similar to the traditional Heir Horns (hehe), but then I don’t know what Horn Rules you’re going by in your au. 

Here you see me playing with changing his shirt color to a true tyrian. I think it makes more sense- it’s a way to acknowledge his kismesitude with the fuschia- and, since he’s trying to overtake the heir position, it makes most sense for him to try to visually associate himself with the fuschia role. 

He’s a really well balanced trollsona! Thank you for sharing!

-CD