#and really i have no reason to suspect that specifically. it's just one of the potential causes for the enzyme abnormality we found

[rolandkaros]

WTA TOP 4 AS LYRICS FROM SONGS I HAVE SAVED [5 - 8] [9 - 12] [INSP]

IGA ŚWIĄTEK [POL] -> THUNDERSTRUCK [AC/DC] ARYNA SABALENKA [BLR] -> ALL MY FAITH [THE LAST DINOSAUR] COCO GAUFF [USA] -> NEW SHAPES [BAD NERVES] JESSICA PEGULA [USA] -> RISE TO ME [THE DECEMBERISTS]

[orcelito]

Actually we r at 6 months now without any major deaths in my life, which is great! That's the longest I've gone without any major deaths since last May! The second longest was 4 months between July and November last year. Wow !

[narwhalandchill]

having terminal narwhal brainrot is kinda the worst actually bc. sometimes my brain just gets Stuck on all these tiny things and observations that are Very Funny Indeed but also like. i have no actual clue whether its Intended to be significant at all in terms of implication or if im just losing it but its rent free either way and its not going away like. take this one for a completely coincidental example i definitely havent had swirling around my head rent free for like the last 3 weeks nopers no way uhhhhh

so act I of fontaine AQ right???? first narwhal mentions we get from childe in the story???

"it" right?? which like fine yeah makes sense. mysterious massive eldritch sea creature wouldnt consider that out of place for a choice of pronoun. in no small part prolly due to ajax just taking after skirk in terms of how she refers to and views the narwhal. its not rly carrying any connotation of personhood and/or sentience purely in terms of the language used

Now. if its such an unsurprising choice. why am i fixated on this

WELL. lets say purely hypothetically. wouldnt it be like. really funny if after Multiple languages. explicitly went for a non-human moniker when it comes to childe speaking about the narwhal. that he would then like. possibly. the Second they make actual direct and personal telepathic connection with one another. pull a complete 180 on that. in like act III mayhaps

"someone" calling him??????

Like. isnt it Interesting. that he went from "it". to IMMEDIATELY assigning explicit personhood to whatever originated that whalesong call.

Its telepathic connection. Right??? like these mfs are Literally in each others heads. right??? and yet. Somehow. PURELY off of that call that single moment of fleeting impression and feeling that gravitational pull towards one another. youre Instinctively assigning sentience personhood and character to that voice. Huh

(so based and narwhalpilled ajax i knew you were a truther and an ally)

and like what makes me fixate on this so much and not just go oh its prolly nothing is just. they didnt HAVE to write it that way right??? they couldve made it "something calling me..." . or even for intentional ambiguity something like "i hear a call somewhere..." . but Nooooooo its. someone. they made ajax go from "it" to "someone". in the exact span it took for him to make direct metaphysical contact with his narwhal.

obviously like. yes ive made my case against the "lmao dumb pet that overeats" misconception Many Times Before for obvious reasons bc thats My beloved and theres Plenty enough canon material even excluding this one to very much suggest the narwhal is indeed a fully sentient immortal being capable of complex thought i just. for ajax of all people to seemingly note that so instinctively the moment they make contact as well............

yeah let me scream real quick thanks im just. HHHHHHHHHH these 2 kill me irl

and NO its not just english i triple checked. like first i checked german and that shit goes from es/etwas to jemand. non-human to explicitly person-specific

(beyond the obvious. whale as a masculine noun)

& then w chinese obviously not a speaker but i took the same lines from project ambr, got the translation and pinyin with google and as long as im not missing sth huge and/or wikipedia isnt lying about how chinese pronouns work. its explicitly non-human 3rd person to very much person-specific interrogative "who" too.

so like. that sure is a very specific and curious choice to make with the writing. multiple times. in multiple languages. when there very much were Multiple very easy ways to write it Not in such a way. for the one (1) guy with undeniably the closest and most personal bond to the narwhal. to say That. in response to its call. its just a little bit of an inch resting detail to have. just a bit

yeah ajax mister im actually going to need you to explain this one to the class as well in addition to all the OTHER shit you have the audacity to spew thanks

[andromedasummer]

every now and then i remember im somewhere on the aroace spectrum and i just kinda stop in my tracks and go 'huh!' and try not to sit on it for very long

[drchucktingle]

On your blog you've talked about dealing with chronic as a result from the stress of masking your autism.

It's a bit of a different situation, but my little sister (who we've begun to suspect has adhd) has been experiencing chronic pain in her arms and legs. I may be totally off base, but I was wondering if a similar stess might potentially be a factor in her pain.

If you're willing, would you mind talking about how your pain affected before you found a way to manage it (I tried searching your tumblr, but not much came up, so sorry if I'm asking a question that's already been answered)?

Thanks either way, I love your books. Love is real!

sure buckaroo GOOD QUESTION. i have had chronic pain in some form or another for LONG TIME in a number of STRESS RELATED WAYS. in past it has been cracking teeth from clenching dang jaws while i sleep and things like that, but a few years ago it was FULL ON BODY PAIN AND TIGHTNESS like every muscle was clenching up. went to the doctor over and over all kinds of dang specialists and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on. eventually landed on a sort of nebulous trot of STRESS but i can get more specific.

there are several things about me that you would never know just from looking or even talking to me for long times. i am a bi buckaroo, i am a non-dysphoric trans buckaroo, i am an autistic buckaroo. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE THINGS IS EITHER HIDDEN AUTOMATICALLY OR I AM SUCH AN EXPERT AT HIDING THAT IT IS SECOND NATURE

autism presents its trot in many ways, so my words do not apply to all, but my version is EXTREME ORGANIZATION AND ENDLESS WORK ETHIC. in way of freud (which is a silly way but sometimes good for symbolism talk) i have what you would call an OVERDEVELOPED SUPER EGO which is a double edged sword. i can write 100s of books at an incredible pace, but also feel like my body is constantly collapsing in on itself

this is not really something i consciously think about much, but eventually these health problems started creeping up. it was all from carrying this mystery tension in my body, because while it feels EASY for me to mask i believe all that tension goes somewhere and it stores up and stores up and stores up.

so i think the HEALTHY way that i have found to deal with this (i think of it as releasing the steam valve a bit so the boiler does not break down) is ART. this space where i am allowed to be CHUCK TINGLE and write without obsessing over the spelling or punctuation, or to loudly express my queerness, or explore gender, and to let my neurotypical mask down DIRECTLY RELIEVES my chronic pain because it literally makes my muscles relax.

when i started out this ARTISTIC TROT as chuck i used a LOT of metaphor to keep my privacy, with different words or different versions of people for different things, and buckaroos found this very funny. as a way to express myself artistically i also liked this metaphor trot a lot, but i have also found that the LESS metaphor i paint over my life as chuck, the better it is for my health. if you have noticed, i talk less about some of the parts of my life that were metaphors, or maybe you have seen that my voice has relaxed a bit in interviews, or that i carry myself a little differently over time, this is partially why. (there is another artistic reason that was a planned trot from the beginning and it has to do with my feelings as a young autistic buckaroo of not fitting in on this timeline, but we can dive into that later).

anyway, as PRACTICAL ADVICE i would say that FINDING A SPACE TO EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT FEAR OR MASKING has been the number one trot for me. that can be a pink bag over your head writing hundreds of erotic shorts, or that can be just laying on the ground howling your heart out, or doing whatever stim you need to do.

i will also say that ONCE I REALIZED IT WAS MUSCLE TENSION getting a physical therapist helped a lot. because there are two sides, you have to start releasing steam from the steam valve, but at the same time youve also gotta start HEALING THE DAMAGE. so i think stretching and techniques like that can be very helpful.

hope that helps buckaroo LOVE IS REAL

[hello-eden]

dead on main #3

destabilized Ellie and Dan are Jason and Danny's kids except Jason gives his permission to help stabilize the two when he's dead and when he's resurrected he has no memories of it.

 Danny and Jason met while he was dead and had a teenage puppy crush sort of thing. The two of them had a lot of things going on with one still being a vigilante in their town and one being recently murdered, So they never really were able to get together before Jason was resurrected. The two of them are from different dimensions and only meet due to the fact that the ghost zone is every Dimension afterlife. 

There is a bad reaction from Vlad finding out that Danny used someone else's DNA to stabilize the kids, Which leads to a very Reckless fight that leads to his parents finding out that the kids are halfas. The parents don't know that he is also halfa so they try to cure the kids. Danny flees To the ghost zone specifically to frostbite to make sure the kids are okay. While he's there Clockwork decides that was the best time to basically tell Danny that Jason's resurrected in his home dimension and that is probably best if he settles down there. Of course because Clockwork is still a menace before Danny goes through the portal he says that Jason does not have his memories of being dead and then pushes him through. Danny sets up his life there with Ellie and Dan.

Plot twist Danny ends up being neighbors to Roy in Star City. Danny is a trans single father of twins that appears to have run away from home due to bad situation. With all the Vigilante scars that Danny has it's a reasonable conclusion for him to suspect an abusive home.

Danny babysits Lian when Roy has missions and Roy babysits Ellie and Dan When Danny does work.  of course not always do their schedules so occasionally they have to call in another babysitter and when that fails we have the Red Hood himself. the unknown father of the twins( not really twins) and the Godfather of the other child( yes I made him The Godfather).

 Danny doesn't instantly recognize him due to the very obvious change. Two of them meet a couple of times through Roy. Danny usually just accidentally stopping in at a bad time before Roy introduces them together and Danny hears his name.

Danny does not tell him that he's the father of the children because one he was dead which means he's going to have to explain what he was doing while he was dead. and two because Clockwork told him he had his memories erased. Danny of course has a lot of feelings about this and Jason instantly gets a crush. Jason occasionally babysits the kids when the regular babysitter isn't working Nor can watch each other's kids because of schedules.

A situation happens with Ellie where she needs to go to the hospital and Jason brings her. this leads to an emergency blood transfusion. The transfusion goes badly and isn't working so Jason asks if his blood will work. It works perfectly. Jason questions for a little bit. Danny, whose phone was broken in  a villain attack two days ago and hasn't gotten replaced, shows up at the hospital after finally being contacted. Jason questioned him a little bit  Danny freaks out a lot which raises Jason's alarms quite High. When Danny's getting some food for Elle and talking to doctors Jason does a DNA test. Jason gets the results a week later when Ellie's finally back home which reveals he is the father. He has a lot of questions about this.

[blindbeta]

Exploring How Toph Beifong Could Be Played By A Blind Actress and Refuting Reasons Some People Believe She Couldn’t

[Image Description: Toph Beifong from Avatar: The Last Airbender. She is waving her hand in front of her face after joking that she spotted the great library, tricking the Gaang only to remind them that she is blind. She rides on Appa who is flying above a desert landscape. End I.D.]

The live-action adaptation of season 2 of Avatar: The Last Airbender is underway. This means people are discussing Toph again, much like they did during pre-production of season 1. I have seen and even participated in promoting the idea of Toph being portrayed by a blind actress. Similarly, I have come across push-back against the idea.

Instead of if Toph Should Be Portrayed by a Blind Actress, Let’s Focus on How She Could

(should and could are bolded for emphasis)

This post will address common misconceptions that serve as barriers to the idea of a blind actress portraying Toph.

A Few Notes Before We Start

These points come from posts on online forums, YouTube comments on videos related to the casting of Toph, and tumblr posts. No one will be specifically called out here, as while these points may be attributed to certain individuals online, they represent much wider views that are shared by many, even without malicious intent. These common misconceptions stem from unchecked ableism and general lack of information. Keep in mind that my intention is not to call out any individual person, as ableism is a widespread, collective problem. The reasons I refuted in this post showed up repeatedly and were not isolated opinions of one or two people.

1. No, it would not be too difficult to find an actress who is Asian, blind, and the right age

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit uses earthbending to create three pillars of rock that shoot at an angle from the ground and smash into her opponent, throwing him against the arena wall. End I.D.]

This point suggests that it is difficult to find candidates fitting Toph’s description. I suspect this is due to racism and ableism, in that a white and abled person is considered default and therefore believed to be more common, especially by Western studio standards. This is not truly the case. People of color and disabled people are auditioning, especially for the comparatively few roles that seek them out specifically, such as Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Blind Asian people exist. Some of these people are also actresses. Some have backgrounds in dance or martial arts, especially because many actors do similar activities to increase endurance and versatility. Finding a pre-teen or teenager to play Toph would not be as challenging as many people believe, especially those who already underestimate the amount of blind people in the world and their abilities.

Those who argue this point may be under the impression that a blind actress would be out of reach due to low numbers and lack of interest in auditioning. Blind people are auditioning. The reason you don’t see them on screen is because most of them are ignored in favor of abled actors. For example, in this video, Molly Burke discusses not being chosen to play a blind character whom she was told was based on her own life. The actress chosen to play the character was not blind. You can watch it here.

Additionally, Netflix has the ability to hold a widespread casting call. They are not a tiny studio doing productions in someone’s backyard. They have access to a wider pool of actresses than the average person might think, particularly if said person is not familiar with the resources big studios often have at their disposal.

In fact, Netflix is doing just that. Below is a link to their casting call, which encourages blind and low vision actresses to audition.

Link to casting call here with alt text.

2. Some people believe Toph isn’t really blind and therefore the actress who plays her needs to be able to see

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit using bending, with shots showing her hands and feet. As her bare foot slides sideways across the ground, the camera zooms out to show her sensing vibrations. The image turns greyscale, with circles of white vibrations emanating from around Toph’s body, where they expand and flow outward. End I.D.]

The rationale behind this is probably the same as it is for Daredevil, meaning some don’t consider Toph to be blind because of the way she uses her bending.

An argument could be made that Toph’s powers erase her blindness or that her powerful abilities make her less relatable to the average blind person. However, I suspect that many sighted people engaging with these discussions of Toph’s casting are not also concerned with questions of erasure or relatability. In discussions questioning her blindness, the evidence given mostly centers on Toph’s physical abilities rather than relatability to real blind people.

Her bending aside, Toph is certainly blind. She experiences ableism from her parents and general community. Blindness shaped her life in a lot of ways, even with her bending, which is also influenced by her disability.

We see Toph being guided while running on the airship, needing assistance while walking on ice, and struggling to travel in a desert. She uses her other senses, including hearing and tactile senses. She has limitations regarding how she is able to interact with an unaccommodating world, such as inaccessible reading and writing systems.

There are also lifestyle and cultural implications of blindness extending beyond the inability to see. Being blind is not only about what one can and cannot do, which is true of Toph’s experience as well. Blind people may have different values, experiences with family and friends, different senses of humor, or may place higher value on other sensory experiences compared to sighted peers.

Whether or not Toph is good blindness representation can be argued. However, she is still a blind character. Her blindness influences her whole life, even as she is more than her blindness at the same time. Her life as a blind person is about more than limitations and abilities. Reducing her, and any blind person, for that matter, to only these facets of her experience oversimplifies what it is like to be a blind person.

Claiming that she isn’t a blind character because of her ability to do x, y, and z can be incorrect for a lot of reasons.

Blind people are more than what we can do or what we produce. Our experiences are rich and varied. Our lives are inherently meaningful no matter our abilities or limitations. It is both ableist and inaccurate for sighted people to attempt to put us all into boxes.

Additionally, blindness is a spectrum. [Bolded for emphasis.] You can read about it at the following posts on my blog:

here

here

here

and here.

Here is a good list of legally blind YouTubers with various types of visual experiences.

According to various sources on the blindness spectrum, about 85% to 95% of blind people have some remaining vision:

93% according to RNIB

This Perkins School For the Blind fact sheet estimates about 90 to 95% of blind have some remaining vision

American Foundation for the Blind estimates about 15% of blind people are totally blind and discusses the spectrum of blindness here

The spectrum of blindness is important because our experiences become even more diverse when the spectrum is considered. This means that assumptions about what we can and cannot do become even harder for sighted folks to guess accurately.

This accuracy is important if sighted people are going to try to put limitations on blind people, which they have no business doing anyway. They are not the authority on what blind people can do, what we cannot do, or what is good for us. Only blind people can answer that for themselves.

Lastly, blind people are already used to navigating and interacting with their surroundings. They have had anywhere from months to a lifetime of experience, which would translate better to Toph’s ease with her blindness and confidence in her bending.

While an actor wearing contacts to obscure their vision might stumble around and have difficulty on set, someone who is actually blind could lend Toph’s character a much more relaxed, confident attitude in addition to possessing experience navigating in a way that works for her. She is used to being blind. Therefore, an actress who is also used to being blind brings a lot to the performance in terms of physicality, attitude, and the ability to focus on portraying the character, rather than simulating blindness.

Which leads me into the next point.

3. The idea that Toph doesn’t move like a blind person relies on stereotypes of blind people

[Image Description: A GIF from the episode “The Runaway”. Toph, Sokka, and Aang all con some con artists and cheer after their victory, Toph raising her arms high before snatching the prizes. They all run away. End I.D.]

There is no specific way of moving like a blind person. Like sighted people, the way blind people move may be influenced by many factors, such as level of vision, how long they have been blind, their mobility aid, navigation techniques, familiarity with their environment, level of confidence, feelings of safety, other disabilities, energy levels, cultural factors, and more.

While there are mannerisms that are recognizable to blind communities, there is no one way to move like a blind person. Just as there is no one way to look blind.

The ideas of “not moving like a blind person” or “not looking blind” come from stereotypes of blindness. In fact, these ideas can be so pervasive that blind people who don’t fit stereotypes may be accused of faking. I explore this subject here.

In this video, Sam from The Blind Life discusses the experience of performing blindness or being pressured to act more blind than he is. Link here. He explains while he has some vision, he uses his cane to indicate to others that he is blind. This is one of the main functions of a cane. Sam explains feeling pressure to adhere to certain stereotypes about blindness or risk being accused of faking.

Similarly, in this video linked here, Molly Burke discusses the stereotype that blind people’s eyes look noticeably different from sighted eyes. This includes the inaccurate belief that all blind people have cloudy eyes, blank eyes, eyes that are always closed, or eyes that simply must be covered in dark sunglasses to protect the sensibilities of sighted people. Molly explains that while blind people can certainly have these attributes, not all of us do. Molly laments that the phrase, “You don’t look blind,” is either used to invalidate her or to praise her for passing as a sighted person, which is ableist.

Just as blind people don’t look the same way, we don’t move the exact same ways either. That applies to Toph as well. For example, she prefers to keep her feet on solid ground for bending purposes, orientation, and possibly due to cultural factors valuing stability and connection to the earth.

4. The idea that accommodations would be impossible to provide is rooted in ableism

[Image description: A GIF of Toph and Zuko sitting beside each other on the floor at the Ember Island theatre episode. Toph punches Zuko’s arm. Metaphorically for the purposes of this post, she is punching ableist ideas that have nothing to do with Zuko. End I.D]

Here is a thread I shared in the early days of this blog, wherein the topics of blind actors and accommodations are discussed. The entire thread might also be helpful for this post, as I explore the same points, which shows how common these misconceptions are. While this may seem to be an isolated online disagreement, none of these arguments are new. That is why I believe this topic is important— these arguments about accommodations being too difficult or a burden on others also pop up in conversations about other workforces and other disabilities.

A blind character not being played by a blind actor is one thing. A blind person not being hired for a job they are qualified for due to resistance to providing accommodations is not so easy to ignore, not so seemingly isolated a concern. These barriers don’t only apply to blind actors looking for work. They apply to all blind people looking for work.

That means most of this isn’t really about Toph, nor the opinions of random people online. Instead, I hope to highlight common patterns in ableist thinking and dispel these ideas using a character people care about. This is, of course, in addition to my own desire to have a blind actress play Toph.

With that said, let’s explore what work accommodations might look like using examples of blind actors.

Dionne Quan is a blind actress who has an extensive filmography for voiceover work, including popular characters such as Kimi from Rugrats. In this article from when the character was first introduced, she discusses how she performs. Link.

Quote from the article: “Most of the recording was done in a studio with just a mike and a stand for the script. I had the lines in braille, and I would read them on the way over to get into character. You have to have your bag of tricks ready to go.”

Most of the work Quan discusses involves typical acting stuff. The accommodations given to her are similar to adaptations that might be made in an office setting. Additionally, with all the technology available now, it is easy to make a script accessible through large print, VoiceOver and memorization, Word document instead of a PDF, a Braille display, etc.

And as of August 2024, Quan can add adult Toph Beifong to her list of characters. Which is super exciting and, I thought, an appropriate fact to include in this post. You can read more here.

To continue the discussion of accommodations for actors, I would like to discuss Ellie Wallwork. Wallwork is a blind actress who has performed on Doctor Who.

She describes her experiences on set, such as blocking scenes and using tactile accommodations in this short video from the SeeSaw podcast. Link here.

Transcript:

Elie Wallwork speaking:

“Obviously, markers are just normally flat bits of tape on the floor. I had to have some sort of tactile ones so I knew where I was stepping onto. And it takes longer. It definitely takes a bit longer. I guess the thing that frustrates me about the industry is that sometimes casting directors will think, ‘Well, how could a blind person possibly do this, do that? How could they do stunts? How could they even navigate around set?’ But it’s perfectly possible if you— for example, with the crew that I had on all the productions I’ve been on, they’ve all been really kind, really patient with me and able to understand that, yeah, okay, it might take me five minutes longer to block a scene, but that’s fine because it means it’s authentic.”

End transcript.

You can listen to the full episode here.

Lastly, I find that many sighted people are not generally knowledgeable when it pertains to what blind people can or cannot do. Examples of this lack of knowledge include frequent questions about how blind people read, exist in online spaces, cook, etc—and these are simply from posts on my own blog.

Here is a link to a discussion thread that explores ableist assumptions people often make what blind people are or are not able to do. It particularly relevant for this topic. Link can be found here. Please remember that while I did respond to some folks who expressed opinions colored by ableist assumptions, that post is not about them. Just as this post is about addressing ableism in general rather than from a specific source.

The point is: consider why abled people are so comfortable stating what blind people can and cannot do, when one of the most common questions about blindness is still “how do you use a phone or the internet?”

People who aren’t blind often fail to grasp what our limitations actually are. Many people are still surprised to learn that technology or accommodations exist for us, despite having access to various forms of technology themselves. They struggle to understand that we can live our daily lives, possibly because they personally cannot imagine themselves without the vision they rely on, such as that time a professor asked blind content creator Stephanie Renburg [quote] “How do you live?” when the conversation was supposed to be about school accommodations [Link here].

This brings me to an assertion that is often made when sighted actors obscure their vision in order to play blind characters. It is often noted that it was too hard for them emotionally, mentally, and physically. Because of this reaction, the assumption is made that a blind person cannot possibly perform the role.

For example, in the article linked here, this is stated about Jamie Foxx in his role as Ray Charles. “Some actors, including Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles in “Ray” (2004, best actor) and Blake Lively in “All I See Is You” (2017), have chosen to wear ocular prosthetics, rendering them literally blind during their performances. But this creates a new problem: Unlike real blind people, who can spend years honing their orientation and mobility skills, the blindfolded sighted person becomes lost, confused and frightened with the sudden loss of sight — Foxx told interviewers he began hyperventilating as soon as his eyes were glued shut with the custom prosthetic eyelids that the filmmakers affixed over his eyes.”

Being blind is different from a sighted person temporarily obscuring their vision. Blind people have a better handle on being blind because we’ve been doing it longer. Blindness is part of our lives. Of course blind people are going to have an easier time portraying blind characters. This means most of the concerns people bring up when discussing sighted actors struggling with being unable to see won’t actually apply to blind people who have been at this for far longer.

I also wanted to address the idea that hiring blind actors would cost more, according to the assertion made in that thread about hiring blind actors, which you can read here if you haven’t already. While I can understand why someone might believe hiring a blind actor would cost more, I believe it would actually cost less.

Blind actors can use their own canes or other assistive devices used by the character, which saves money on expensive materials

Blind actors likely already have experience with O&M training, saving money and time that would otherwise be spent training a sighted actor, such as described here

Blind actors don’t need contacts or prosthetics, which may otherwise be used help an actor simulate blindness

And blind actors would have an easier time navigating sets, dancing, or doing required physical activities while blind, which reduces the learning curve that sighted actors with obscured vision need

A few Disclaimers:

1) Blind people learn from our communities and through life experience. While we naturally have more experience being blind, our knowledge is enhanced through learning from other blind people and participating in training designed to improve our life skills. I maintain that a sighted person obscuring their vision for a few hours will not have the same level of experience.

2) Reminder that blindness is a spectrum that a blindfold cannot replicate.

and 3) This post is not to say that sighted actors cannot do well or cannot put effort into their performance. According to the article above, Charlie Cox won an award from the AFB for his commitment to portraying Daredevil. However, just because there are sighted actors willing to put in the work does not mean blind actors can’t. I wanted to include this disclaimer in case someone sees the AFB article I shared and worried I’m trying to disparage actors who have already portrayed blind characters and happened to do a good job. After all, I love the original performance we received from Michaela Murphy, who originally voiced Toph. That doesn’t mean studios should not make an effort to cast more blind actors moving forward, nor does it justify any of the silly or explicitly ableist reasons people give for why sighted actors must be chosen over blind ones.

Let us return to refuting those excuses with the last thing I wanted to address.

5. Some people are concerned that a blind person might get hurt doing martial arts, but so can literally anyone else

[Image description: GIF of Toph dressed in Fire Nation attire. She punches through a rock.]

Kids can get hurt in any kind of sport, yet society doesn’t try to keep children from these activities for their own safety. However, disabled kids—and adults for that matter—are often reminded that we are being kept out of spaces for our own protection. Which we didn’t need, nor ask for.

This need to protect disabled people can be not only infantilizing, but hypocritical as well. For example, a blind person might be discouraged from playing recreational sports in a misguided attempt to protect them. Conversely, structures that keep blind people at risk are allowed to stay firmly in place, such as discrimination around transportation, inaccessible infrastructure, and poverty.

Blind people play sports anyway. Often, these sports carry their own risks of injury, as most sports do. Blind people have the agency to understand this and consent to it. Examples include blind football [link] and goalball [link].

Here is a video of Sadi the Blind Lady discussing goalball with Eliana Mason, a Paralympic athlete who plays goalball professionally.

Transcript: “Goalball is sport for blind and visually impaired athletes. It was created after World War II for blinded veterans and is now a Paralympic sport. The coolest thing about it is that everyone wears eyeshades so no matter what your level of vision loss is—because blindness is a spectrum— it equalizes it. The ball has bells in it and the court is straight with tape over it. It’s on a volleyball sized court. It’s three on three. And basically in offense, we are throwing the ball as hard as we can with a lot of technique involved, about 30 to 45 miles an hour to have it hit the ground and roll and hit the other players on their bodies. And on defense, you are throwing your body out and diving in front of this 3 pound ball and blocking it. So essentially you want to get hit with the ball.”

End transcript.

Getting hit with a ball, especially in the face or stomach area, is going to hurt. That is okay, because as long as safety precautions are taken, pain might be part of the experience depending on the rules and anticipated possibility of injury.

Martial arts and dance, which are backgrounds sought specifically in the Netflix Toph casting call, can also lead to accepted forms of pain or discomfort. While one could argue that sports injuries could and should be preventable, this post is more concerned with the expectation of pain, injuries, and what steps are taken to prevent them, such as protective gear or an experienced coach / teacher.

A blind person auditioning for Toph knows that martial arts will be involved. She will spend time learning choreography, building trust with co-actors, and figuring out works best for her. This structure is similar for blind people playing football or goalball or tennis or fencing or whatever else they want to do.

Lastly, people who aren’t blind also experience pain or injury during sports. Same with martial arts or dance.

The actress who plays Toph might get hurt. She might not. Some pain might even be an expected part of training. That is no reason to exclude a blind person from participating. That is no reason to say Toph couldn’t be played by a blind actress. [Bolded for emphasis]

Lastly, anyone training actors on fight choreography already knows how to do so safely. That fact that this is choreography is also helpful, allowing for memorization of actions and reactions. Conversely, the sports and physical activities I listed above are not choreographed, with the exception of dance, and are therefore less predictable. Therefore, if blind people can get head injuries playing on a recreational blind football team, a blind actress can handle fight choreography.

Closing

Thank you for reading all of this. My points still stand whether or not a blind person is actually cast for Toph.

Too Long, Didn’t Read:

Unchecked ableism can lead to oppression even if it is unintentional

Blind actors exist

A blind actor would better capture Toph’s ease and confidence with her blindness

Blind people can do a lot more than sighted people usually think they can

Blind people also face discrimination and limitations that sighted people may not have considered

Blindness is a spectrum and most blind people can still see something

There is no one way to look or move like a blind person

Accommodations are not that difficult to provide

Hiring a blind person would actually cost less money

Most of the popular reasons people believe Toph cannot be played by a blind actress are rooted in ableism

This post is not only about Toph or actors, but an example of how unchecked ableism can be harmful

For example, low employment rates for blind people, inaccessible online resources, or Toph-related posts shared without image descriptions

Toph Beifong could totally be played by a blind actress

[prismalmelonman]

Touching on Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas being a bit undermined in parts of the fandom

So one thing I notice on Twitter is how some people act about the bg3 characters whose abuses were perpetuated by women.

Gale specifically for this reason (but I will touch on others)bbecause I see him dismissed super often as "can't get over his ex".

But Gale's case obviously be has the line of Mystra being like "she was my muse, my teacher, and then my lover" and sure to some that's a red flag in itself (when it comes to adults I don't really give a fuck about teacher/student) but if you view it from not only Gale's own words "ive been connected with the weave for as long as i can remember"

And that doesn't distract from his genuine love of magic of course. And it also doesn't mean that he's actually been in connection with mystra for an amount of time.

However, if you ascend Gale, and he becomes a god, you get a bunch of new little things. Tara reminiscing of course, but you get a letter from Elminster, detailing that Mystra had Elminster scope out Gale when he was eight!

And sure is that pretty cool that he's a prodigy that got the attention of the goddess of magic at that age? Yes. Mystra is, however, known in forgotten Realms lore to seek young young boys who are in tune with magic to make into her chosen. And from context clues, her chosen can be anything from Elminster and Volo, dedicated wizards who try to keep things in check, etc etc. or they're somewhat of playthings to her.

Minsc also has a conversation where me mentions that weave-touched boys in his homeland were hidden away to hone their craft, then suspecting that it was because of Mystra, given Gale's case.

Gale always seems so proud that he got to bed a goddess, and on the surface, hell yeah, that's cool.

Gale continued to have her attention even as he went to Blackstaff Academy, and Mystra eventually did take him on as an apprentice directly to her, later making him her chosen, and sleeping with him.

The reason it bothers me that people dismiss all of Gale's stuff to just "he can't get over his ex" is because that's is like almost textbook grooming? She was in his life from a young age, shaping and moulding him up as he grew up to be her perfect chosen, rewarding him by sleeping with him, and so on. And then of course casting him away when he has his folly with the netherese orb (and to be fair, it very well could have looked like to her that he was trying to seize the power himself and yes the orb does siphon off weave. That is a problem for the mistress of the weave yes).

But she also tells gale to KILL HIMSELF for her forgiveness.

Gale is much more than "unable to be over his ex" this woman was in his life since he was a kid. She's almost all he has ever known. If course it's going to be difficult for him to 1. Say no to her. 2. Get over the fact that he's lost someone that he spent his literal entire life dedicated to. Honestly if asked, I don't even think Gale would acknowledge or really see that what he went through was, in fact, abuse until it was spelled out in front of him. (Which does happen somewhat with the player character pleading to him that killing himself for mystra's forgiveness is actually horrific and that he should in fact be angry for how he was treated)

Similarly, and this one has been discussed a lot, Wyll and Mizora. Wyll was 17 and actively trying to help his people. 17, in a vulnerable state, willing to do anything to help and prove himself. Mizora very clearly took advantage of him, and regards him as a "pet", refers to him being "leashed", and so on. Personally, I do dislike the sexualization of their relationship, because it very much is also grooming (although a different type. Rather than manipulating and shaping his life from the ground up, she takes advantage of a vulnerable and desperate state to manipulate and contract Wyll into doing her bidding. I won't go too deep I to this one because it has been discussed to hell and back. But I did wanna touch on Wyll's situation as well.

Also, Halsin as well, though that has also been discussed in many retrospectives by a very good friend of mine. Halsin's trauma often get dismissed due to his polyamory, open sexual nature, and his own somewhat diminishing/dismissal of it, which honestly I love the representation of, cause for a while I did that with my own trauma. Halsin was a sex slave to a house of Lolth-Sworn drow, a matriarchal society, where the men are generally used as fodder or for breeding, though male Lolth-Sworn drow can be wizards and rise in the ranks if wizardry, but are limited everywhere else. (Minthara mentions that the third male, and every subsequent male child after third are killed for being"useless"). Halsin often referred to them as "hosts" rather than being captors, (though he does touch on that if the Player Character threatens to sell him back into slavery). Again, everything I'd have to say here for Halsin has entirely been discussed top to bottom by a friend, their link is below!!

Anyway, long story short, I dislike it a lot when Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas and abuses get diminished, even if/when the character themself doesn't see or acknowledge the abuse in the same lens that we, the players, do.

[honoura]

Shaaloani: The Land of Enchantment Part One

Hello again! It's another lore-adjacent post from me about a niche special interest of mine. This time it's Shaaloani, the American Southwest/Northern Mexico inspired zone in FFXIV's Dawntrail.

I want to disclose a few things right at the start just to temper people's expectations: I will not be definitively ID'ing any of the indigenous-inspired structures or visuals as inspired by any specific tribe. That's not my lane! I'm going to link to things that they remind me of, for sure. But otherwise my hyperfocus is going to be on the physical environment, some animals, and the ceruleum as petroleum industry. It's what I recognize best! And what I know best, truthfully.

"Hon why are you doing this?" A variety of reasons honestly. After DT dropped I saw a lot of folks who did at least one of the following:

Commented on the Old West theme park aspect

Called it "miqo'te Texas"

Generally just called the whole map "Texas"

And if I'm honest... it bugged me! Not because I thought anyone was being malicious about it (it's mostly pop culture saturation I'd suspect), but to me it stung a bit that this zone, which I grew up on the fringe of, was... kind of flattened by a lot of people?

I don't know, the response to me just felt like people assumed they knew everything about it because they'd seen it already in movies or TV or Red Dead Redemption rather than the same open-mindedness about what was presented in places like Urqopacha.

This zone isn't just Texas -- yes there are some bits and pieces here (because it's pulling from the Chihuahuan Desert and the Sonoran Desert), but so much of it reminds me of New Mexico, Mexico, and Arizona. There's some Colorado, Utah, and Nevada there too! And the background story going on there is something that still happens in a lot of those states, by both the government and corporations alike.

That variety deserves to be celebrated! So come learn with me about the inspiration for Shaaloani!

Shaaloani Geography

Shaaloani has three major regions in the zone -- Eshceyaani Wilds, Pyariyoanaan Plain, and Yawtanane Grasslands. To get this out of the way, I'm going to tell you the one that reminds me most of Texas.

Ready?

Lake Taori of the Pyariyoanaan Plain.

It's river-fed, with canyons on both ends of the Niikwerepi. The trees crowding around it are cypress trees, as you can tell by the little nubby off-shoots called knees. To compare, here is a photo of cypress trees along the Frio River:

This is also reminiscent of places along the Rio Grande and Pecos Rivers, two significant water sources in West Texas. I also would not call them bayous! Bayous typically have brackish water, are slow-moving, and are way too far east.

However, it could be partly considered a ciénega -- which according to its wikipedia article:

"Ciénagas are usually associated with seeps or springs, found in canyon headwaters or along margins of streams. Ciénagas often occur because the geomorphology forces water to the surface, over large areas, not merely through a single pool or channel."

As a caveat, ciénegas generally don't have trees around them, but I also know that you can't really drown a cypress and they love sunshine. Regardless -- if you see trees in the desert they are typically growing along a water source. Balmorhea State Park has some cottonwood trees native to the area that are going strong.

Yawtanane Grasslands reads as a mix of the Chihuahuan Desert and the Eastern Plains of Colorado. Both are rather arid and home to a variety of grasses that can thrive in such a climate -- which has historically made both areas home to large cattle industries (whether or not this was ever a good idea is debatable, since cattle are very thirsty animals).

Meanwhile the Eshceyaani Wilds looks similar to the Sonoran Desert -- the red-hued soil and rocks, the abundance of cacti with the scrub brush and some drought-tolerant grasses. Here's a shot of the Sonoran within Saguaro National Park in Arizona:

Saguaros also only grow in Arizona in the States! As well as the organ-pipe cactus, which you see in Tender Valley. And prickly pears grow just about anywhere they can get a chance -- as well as barrel cacti, both of which we see in Tender Valley (along with what could be agave!).

You could probably make a case for it being a piñon-juniper scrubland -- everything's very short compared to those cypress trees, including the juniper trees! Piñon-juniper scrubland's found throughout the Southwest. There are also piñon-juniper savannahs and persistent woodlands intermixed in the same places. The difference lay in what plants you find with the piñon pines and junipers.

Visually, aside from the Sonoran Desert, I can also see a lot of New Mexico, like the Ghost Ranch in Rio Arriba:

It matches up with the mountains you can see, and both Yowekwa Canyon and Tender Valley. And of course, Tender Valley is likely a Grand Canyon reference, going by the sheer height of the cliffs. But you could also make a case for Canyonlands National Park in Utah.

There's a shot from Grand View Point Overlook within the park -- the closeness of the canyon walls and the warm earth tones also evoke Tender Valley!

There's also a lot of these sandstone formations in Utah that better fit Shaaloani -- like here in the Valley of the Gods:

Shaaloani Structures

I also at this point want to call attention to one of the two sites with cliff dwellings & adobe structures. We just saw Tender Valley above, which is confirmed to be old Yok Huy structures. But check out these Tonawawta buildings below.

As I stated before, I don't want to state which tribe these two styles remind me of. But I do want to say this again strikes me as another New Mexico and Arizona callback; both the Gila Cliff Dwellings and the Puye Cliff Dwellings are found in two different areas of New Mexico. And the Gíusewa Pueblo, also in New Mexico! Montezuma Castle is found in Arizona, and is pictured below! Look at that rich reddish earth color.

I also want to call attention to the place of worship for the Tonawawta in Yowekwa Canyon:

When I saw it my kneejerk response was to call it an ofrenda. But that's ultimately an incomplete response -- that was just the vibe I felt after seeing them during my life! What it also reminds me of are pictographs and petroglyphs. You find these all over the Southwest (the climate helps preserve them!), but I'm going to link some really great examples. I won't provide images to all though!

Crow Canyon Petroglyphs:

Piedras Madras Canyon at Petroglyph National Monument (New Mexico) Petroglyph Point Trail at Mesa Verde National Park (Colorado) Petroglyph Panel at Canyon Reef National Park (Utah) Nampaweap at Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument (Arizona) Horseshoe Canyon at Canyonlands National Park (Utah) and the Hueco Tanks State Park (Texas)

In contrast, I don't want to spend a ton of time on the boom town structures in this zone; they are pretty straightforward references to mining towns during the different resource booms (gold, silver, copper, oil).

Similar blocky shapes, built out of wood. One thing I noticed as a neat addition are the decorative patterns painted on it -- again, I don't want to presume if there's a specific tribe tied to this. But I do think it's a neat touch and I want to think that's a design choice to convey the underlying theme that this is a zone at odds with advancing technology and wanting to keep hold of important traditions.

I WILL talk about the ceruleum wells and pumping though. Mostly because I'm impressed that they went with structures that so closely resemble early 20th century oil derricks. Those were also predominately made of wood (including the barrels, yikes!). The pump part of what's called a pumpjack were covered in the old days -- the ones we're most used to seeing now are made of metal and are thus left uncovered.

However, as you can see from this century old rig, even the wheel's made of wood:

I don't think ceruleum gushes the same way oil did -- it seems to behave more like natural gas. However, most natural gas pipelines do burn off excess, which can be seen as a little spout of flame atop.

Oil's occupied an awkward spot in the Southwest, and still does. Aside from the heinous crimes committed in Killers of the Flower Moon (where members of the Osage tribe were murdered for their oil shares in Oklahoma) and the Teapot Dome Scandal, oil is just... well.

Bear with me, I'm about to rag on Koana a moment.

The people who make the most money and have the most power over the average roughneck's life never live in the Southwest. They work in the c-suite and have more money than sense.

I find it very fascinating that DT chose to recreate this dynamic, this uncomfortable push-pull of a region rich in a resource, and it's being harvested at the suggestion and behest of a power that is physically removed from the area. And to some NPCs it's with a certain level of disregard to traditions and practices in place before, with the focus on the nebulous quantifier of 'progress'. Progress how? It depends!

But the folks at the highest seat of power never have to grapple with those questions, because to them it's a fairly cut and dry answer. This is the way to proceed, and if they want to take this nation into the "future", then this is the clear way to do it. It speaks to Koana's fixation on foreign technology to the point he de-values his own (partly due to his childhood trauma, which kind of prepped him to be susceptible to it).

Meanwhile the locals are the ones grappling the most with this change -- how it affects their plants and animals. Sometimes pits open up in the earth and ceruleum burns (which, Santa Rita New Mexico sank multiple times into the earth thanks to copper mining). On the map there's even discolored plants -- and they only occur in the vicinity OF the bulk of the ceruleum pumps.

This is at odds with core beliefs, keeping up with traditional practices. It puts people in the place of 'do I participate in this system, which promises work and the means to take care of my family, even as it pits me against my cultural heritage?'.

Growing up in West Texas, one of the weirdest things to me (to this day) is how many people will claim they love the land. They do! They love the outdoors, they worry over how certain species of animals have become scarcer. But they also work in the single most damaging industry because it pays the most money. It lets them cover bills and give their kids what they never had.

That same push-pull is in Shaaloani narratively; when progress has been thrust upon you, how do you survive it? How do you make sure what's dearest to you comes along with you?

In Conclusion

I want to call it here for Part One -- Part Two after this will cover more observations I had regarding flora and fauna in the Shaaloani zone, and how that also shows the attention to detail given this zone! It's a good time! There will be dinosaurs!

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

[melbee]

The Ikranä Maktoyu (‘banshee rider’)

Pairing: Neteyam x TayrangiClan!Reader

Summary: There was nothing you thought you couldn’t do. So, when the eldest son of Toruk Makto challenges you to a race on your Ikran? Well, you never were one to run from an honest challenge. Especially when you had the fate of your feelings riding on the line.

Note: This is my first Fanfiction for Avatar and specifically WoW. This doesn't follow any sort of plot, so it's not technically necessary to have watched the new movie. Anyways I hope you enjoy xx

Warnings: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers (kind of?), Blood. Kissing? idk. This is a long one. I like to give my fanfics context, ok?? lol

Word count: 4,203

As far as you were concerned you couldn't be any different from the similar blue skinned Navi in front of you. While you were used to more complicated headdresses, and guarded expressions, these Forest children of the Omaticaya clan, wore little and expressed much. Several Tayrangi Clan members and you had journeyed vast from the Eastern Sea to meet with the Omaticaya people and its fairly new leader, Jake Sully.

Your mother had brought you up on the story of Jake Sully's arrival, on how the Toruk Makto had led all the clans together in harmony in order to rid your home planet of the humans who were intent on destroying it. Everything about Omaticaya had fascinated you, but as you grew so did your responsibilities, and now you reserve your emotions to plain passiveness.

This was mostly due to the fact that the people were so much different from your own. Tayrangi had long been separated and socially outcasted due to their spirited independence, and the Omaticaya people had once despised it. However, times had changed, and as your mother fondly admitted to yourself, new beginnings can bring new outlooks.

So, there you sat, trying to hold in any regard of the Omaticaya children in front of you, who had been introduced upon arrival as the Olo'ekytan's children. The youngest and giddiest, Tuktirey, smiled brightly at you as if she noticed your presence for the first time since you had been there.

"Come play with us, y/n! We were just about to go out into the forest." Tuktirey laughed, as she tugged on her elder sister's hand. Kiri looked up at you with a shy smile, and for some reason it made your heart warm.

They were very sweet children, most of them at least. Upon your clan's arrival to the forest, you were bombarded by the sounds of Ikrans all around you. While you were mostly familiar with the sound, the laughter and rambunctious noise as they swooped across the trees startled your clan. Who was behind the wonderful greeting? None other than the eldest of Jake Sully's children, who you were introduced to through a flurry of apologies as Lo'ak and Neteyam.

Each bore a startling resemblance to their kinfolk, and by closer inspection you saw the youngest of the brothers resembled the same five fingered trait as his father. He was the most feigned of the two, which made you suspect this wasn't his first time having to apologize. Neteyam was sincere in his apologies at the least, the perfect mockup as the prodigal son, burdened since birth you could tell.

However, something about Neteyam made your heart race just a little faster. Perhaps it was the way he laughed, and his broad shoulders lifted up ever so slightly. Or maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes, and you felt the weight of the world fall endlessly at your fingertips. Either way, you made sure you kept your feelings in check. You had goals in life, and you wouldn't let some skxwang (idiot, moron) mess it up.

"I was hoping to head near the top of the mountains. It's actually really beautiful to see near sunset." Kiri voiced out, the sound startling you out of your memories, as she looked back to see Tuktirey jumping for joy.

"Mom never lets us go out there before dinner, but maybe she'll let us since you're here!" Tuktirey laughed as she began to beckon us to follow her.

"We can go, but we've got to wait for Spider. He should be here any minute." Kiri rolled her eyes, before glancing back in apology for her sister's rambunctious nature.

"You called?" You heard a male voice call out from behind you, your body jumping in fear. You were used to the rocky shores of your homeland providing you a sense of hearing, but now that you were hidden between the sounds of the forest, you couldn't quite gather your surroundings.

"Spider! There you are, where were you?" Kiri exclaimed, as you watched to see the human jump from a fallen tree limb, as he laughed underneath his mask.

When you had first taken a glimpse of a human on Pandora, it had not been under good circumstances. It was as the RDA had begun to shuffle their way out, but the memories from your older clan members had done enough to make you hold reservations against them. Even though you had been told of Spider's upbringing, you couldn't help but feel as if his alliance did not stand completely still against one side.

Spider glanced your way, a careful nod towards you, before pulling on Kiri's tail in playfulness. Kiri hissed as she smacked him away, him dodging her advances. Before you knew it, they were in their own little world arguing about something leaving Tuktirey to sigh in impatience.

"Guys can you stop! We have to get going!" Tuk complained. Kiri looked up as she glanced your way in apology. She beckoned Spider to follow us, as we began heading through the thick jungle.

You watched in hesitance as the Sully clan leaped and bounded across tree limbs and small streams. Syaksuk (lemurs) danced across the forest vines, their playful voices echoing around as they swung. Every so often Tuk would stop, playing with some sort of creature or fauna before Kiri or yourself would have to get her away from the distractions.

The trek was long, but it resembled your own passages on top of jagged rocks, trying to avoid falling. You laughed as you tried to keep up with the Omaticaya children, your passive disposition beginning to fade away. You actually felt really happy.

At this point in the day the light in the sky was beginning its descent, and you had just reached a parting in the densely bushed trees. Pushing forward, you followed Kiri and the rest stopped at what you could tell was an overlook. Pushing back a stray vine, your eyes widened before looking up.

There it was. Out of everything you had heard of the Omaticaya clan growing up, Ayram Alusing (The floating mountains) was the most magical. Your arrival to the clan had been up these very floating rocks. You could almost see the activity where the clan resided near the Tree of Souls.

"Mons Veritatis." You heard Spider whisper in awe, your gaze settling to where he looked to see one of the tallest mountains you had ever seen. Its top didn't even reach vision, the dense vog settling eerily to the distant calls of the Ikrans.

It made your heart thump in excitement at riding your Ikran across the sky.

"Iknimaya. It is our rite of passage to ride our Ikrans. You do the same right?" Kiri looked over at you, noticing your excitement with a smile.

"Yes, although I'm not sure which is more dangerous." You laughed as Kiri giggled, latching onto Tuk's hand. 

"Well, there is only one way to find out."

You were startled by how quickly they began to race across the overlook and jump onto the vines. Your heart began to thump as you scaled the rocks higher up into the sky. You looked down to the steep fall below, wondering if you had just enough time to call for your Ikran to save you if you fell.

You were surprised that with each step it got easier, and even Spider, who was not built for Pandora's harsh terrain, kept up almost effortlessly. Maybe that was why they called him monkey boy.

"We're almost there!" Tuk squealed, as the sound of the Ikrans could be heard louder. The waterfalls were louder too, and you felt a strange lightness as you along with the rest of the group slowed down as you neared an alcove.

"There they are." Kiri said, pointing over to the left side of us where the Ikrans nested. The backdrop the rest of the way was beautiful as the Sun began to hang low, and the outline of the gas giant was visible.

You felt yourself wanting to ride your Ikran Payngyì , remembering that the hangar in which she resided was not too far away, and perhaps you could reach her.

Before you could debate it further a call could be heard, the voice sounding familiar, as you began to recall back to before and your arrival to Omaticaya.

Neteyam.

His Ikran soared across the sky, the multicolored blues of its wings casting shadows in the sky. Neteyam held strong to his Ikran, a symbol of good ability and you couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight. He swooped below, somehow spotting us in the little opening that we stood.

Spider began whooping, before you looked over to see Kiri rolling her eyes.

“It’s so obvious he’s trying to show off.” Kiri snarked, the signature fourteen year old attitude dripping off of her like hot honey. You couldn’t help but chuckle, before looking back towards Neteyam.

He now perched his Ikran where we were, his hushed whispers calming the still active creature. Looking over towards us, he swung his legs off the Ikran, before lifting his Ionar (rider's mask) and grinning.

“So, how long until Mom punishes you guys for being up here now?” Neteyam laughed at his siblings, before looking over at you. He pushed his head forward, and signaled a greeting. “Oel ngati kameie”

You felt your face heat up, as you returned the gesture haphazardly. “Oel ngati kameie.” Usually it came to you like clockwork, but you were quickly starting to realize even everyday tasks came awkward and jumbled when he was around.

Neteyam shifted his head in curiosity, before looking back at his siblings. “You know this won’t be a good impression to the Tayrangi clan if we keep breaking rules.”

“No. That was you and L’oak. Y/n wanted to be here.” Kiri sassed, knocking Neteyam over the head who groaned in playfulness.

“Mom will let us be here if y/n is here. She is a fierce hunter!” Tuk replied looking up to her older siblings.

Neteyam looked back at you, and the same expression graced his face. Can he seriously stop staring at me like that? It’s like he’s looking into my soul. You thought quietly, albeit returning his stare.

“Is that so?” Humor now splashing his face as he laughed. You frowned at his obvious display of mockery. “Pray tell me, where’s your Ikran now?”

Something in you snapped and whatever ounce of female gaze you had for him went away, and a competitive nature overtook you. “Where your clan resides. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Neteyam’s eyes lit as he watched you begin to challenge him with your voice. Something about the way your eyes squinted, or the way your soft lips titled in a scowl made his heart race in excitement.

Ever since your arrival he couldn’t help but find any way of talking to you, being near you, anything. He would be lying if it wasn’t driving him mad, especially when his siblings were beginning to pick up on it.

“I’m not. I just…” Neteyam paused thinking about his words before smiling deviously. Your head tilted as you began to realize what he was about to ask you.

“Do you care for a race? Since you’re a fierce hunter, I’m sure you and your Ikran can make a fine challenge for mine.” Neteyam crossed his arms, his mouth trying to hide the obvious nature of trying to get you to blow your temper.

“Now I would pay to see that.” Spider laughed looking over to Kiri who was shaking her head.

“Alright, what are the odds then?” You replied, your hand already itching to latch onto Payngyì.

“If you win, I’ll cover for you in case we get into trouble after this.” Neteyam shook his head in humor.

“And if I don’t, what… I’ll be thrown off the mountains for all of eternity?” You laughed.

Neteyam smiled widely before shaking his head. He began to walk towards you, and the feelings that you had pushed back in place of competition started coming back all at once. He leaned down, a wonderful scent invading your nose before whispering in your ear. “You owe me a date.”

You tried to hold in the gasp that threatened to push out, your head which had been cast down tilting up toward his own, very near face. “Deal.” You whispered. You watched as the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the ghost of his touch passed your waist, before standing back. “Call to your Ikran.”

You wasted no time in standing closer to the edge, letting out your familiar call in hopes Payngyì would hear. You were right, as a few moments later her beautiful light blue figure flapped its wings and perched with a sounding screech.

You walked over to her, the beautiful golden shade of her pupils dilated as you gazed into her, petting her slowly in greeting. You looked over to Neteyam with a nod. “What are the parameters?”

Neteyam points out past the Tree of Souls to where a carefully arched connection of vines floated two mountains. “Over there, a little stretched away from where the camp is.”

You looked at him curiously, and he seemingly read your mind in the instant it crossed your face.

“Trust me it will be a challenge. The mountains move quickly, and you have to be careful to not hit anything.” Neteyam walked over to his Ikran, leaping up onto it.

You climbed up on your own, latching onto the Tsaheylu (bond/connection), feeling Payngyì screech, and her breath beginning to pump as she anticipated your next move.

“You can do it y/n!” You heard Tuk cheer, looking over you watched Kiri look at you with careful caution.

“Be careful. My brother is stupid, but he knows these mountains well. As much as it pains me to say it, he is one of the best hunters.” Kiri grimaced, Neteyam cheering out in response to her compliment.

“Are you ready, y/n?” Neteyam looked over at you with a wide smile.

You couldn’t help your own smile grace your face, nodding before him. 

“I will see you at the finish line, then.” He winked, and suddenly you had forgotten there ever was a race, before watching as he dove his Ikran down, and upwards into the sky.

“Oh sh-” You exclaimed with a huff, following after him, the legs of Payngyì tightening, her wings closing in downwards. You felt the gust of air and you were suddenly very laser focused on winning. Not because the bullshit win might not guarantee you a harsh scolding afterwards, but simply to beat Neteyam. A man that was so intently after your own heart. And winning. 

You saw him not too far in the distance, realizing there had to be a shortcut or some way to catch up to him and gain more speed. You tightened your hold on Payngyì, her voice squawking out as you nearly collided with a mountain that was moving closer to your right side. You banked left, realizing the air was a lot similar to that of the Eastern Sea.

Before in races, you would use the wind speed to gain traction by going downwards and upwards. This worked even better, once you realized that Neteyam in the distance was having to lose traction to weave through the mountains.

“Come on Payngyì.” You whispered, feeling her move exactly what you had in your mind, soaring upwards and downwards, before realizing you were nearing the tree of souls and the archway. 

Neteyam glanced behind you with a fierce look in his eyes, before banking off and passing behind a particularly large mountain. You frowned realizing the same mountain that was coming left was now barreling toward you. You gasped narrowly escaping the bottom as you dived downward.

You must have startled Payngyì, because now she strained on your hold, and you could feel the fear in the bond. She began to slow down much to your disappointment, as you tried to push her forward. 

All of the sudden you heard Neteyam fly past you from the opposite side he had come from. Payngyì, who had already been startled by the unfamiliar mountains, saw the shadow of his Ikran and screeched before diving again this time barreling towards the cliffs. You screamed, urging your Ikran to pull up but to no avail.

Neteyam must’ve seen the whole thing as you heard him call out to you. “Quickly this way!” He cascaded his own Ikran near the rocks, trying to keep Payngyì from hurting herself. In the process of pushing your own away from the cliffs, you watched as his shoulder scratched against jagged rocks, his skin tearing up. “Shit.” He swore.

“Neteyam!” You yelled, sighing in relief as he managed to pull his own Ikran away from the cliffs and fly smoothly next to mine. “Are you alright?”

“Yes…” He groaned, his injured arm locking up as his face squinted into a scowl. “I think-hold on…”

“Neteyam… do we need to stop?” You replied in concern, worried for the fact that his injury had begun to slowly bleed. 

“Uh yeah…maybe…” His words now stuttering, looking at you in embarrassment. “Look, let's not go back to camp, I won’t be able to make my promise to you if we do.”

“If I was that worried about that Neteyam, I wouldn’t have agreed to this race.” I huffed. “Where do you want to go? You need care, you’re going to bleed out.”

“No, I know a place.” Neteyam grimaced, beckoning you to follow him. “Follow me.”

You grappled at the possibility of finishing the race or saving Neteyam, as you realized the way he was taking you was straight past the archway. He’s going to win, and I’ll owe him a date. You shook your thoughts from your mind, realizing any race or date was far from the task at hand, and making sure Neteyam is safe was more of a priority.

You sailed through the sky, the sun now setting, and the realization that your own mother and clan will be very disappointed if you embarrassed them by arriving past curfew. “Shouldn’t we just go back? I just don’t understand how any place we’re going will help you or anyone’s case.”

Neteyam, who had gone quiet, shook his head. “There is a place on the ground near the tree of souls not far from camp. Our ancestors used to go there because it possessed great healing powers. That’s where we get most of our medicine.” 

You stared at him, his braided hair flying in the wind and his eyes focused intently on the mission ahead. It made you realize just how deeply he knew about his clan, and the role he knew he would have to serve one day. It made you look at him differently, and not just as a headstrong boy. He was a leader, he would be their savior one day.

As you neared the forest floor you saw a few spirit trees up ahead and a small rocky alcove. Resting both of your Ikrans on the floor, you realized the forest was beginning to come alive with its beautiful glow. 

Neteyam grumbled, holding onto his arm loosely before looking up at me. “Uh.. if you grab some of those nearby plants-” You held up a hand, taking over realizing this routine was much similar to that of your clan near the Eastern Sea. Many times, you had to seek out ways to produce medicine for your injured clan, and the forest was no different.

“Sit down.” You ordered, pushing him down his mouth beginning to move in protest. “It’s the least I could do. You saved my life.” You looked down at him before turning back and grabbing some plants to make some sort of salve.

“Thank you.” You heard Neteyam quietly speak, feeling his eyes staring intently at your back. Your face heated up, grabbing a nearby rock and beginning to mash a few plants together.

You turned around, meeting his eyes who looked almost fascinated at you. You scrunched your face, and for the first time voiced your opinion. “Why do you always stare at me like that?”

“Like what?” Neteyam whispered, the nearness of your body to his and possibly the loss of blood making his voice go hoarse.

“Like…you’ve known me all your life or something.” You began applying the makeshift salve to his cuts, making him hiss in alarm. “Stop moving.”

“Well sometimes I think I do. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” Neteyam reached out his free hand, stopping you in your tracks. Your ears flicked in curiosity, before you shrugged his hand off of yours so you could continue. “Why do you ignore me?”

“I don’t.” You frowned, now suddenly very intent on helping bandage his arm, and stop from blurting out every ounce of feeling you have all at once. “You just-” You paused before continuing. “All the other boys in my clan have never once been so intent on getting my attention. Not that I want it but- you seemingly always do. And I-”

“Secretly like it?” You scoffed watching Neteyam’s mouth form into a wide smile.

“You’re a skxawng you know that?” You hissed, wrapping the bandage a little tighter against his arm much to his chagrin. At this point in his bandaging process, you had knelt next to him, and not realizing your nearness to him until you looked up to see his face so close to yours.

You inhaled that wonderful scent again and this time there was nothing to pull either of you away from each other. Neteyam closed in first, wrapping his uninjured hand onto your cheek softly, pulling you in for a kiss.

Wow. You thought to yourself. His lips were just as delicate as you had imagined them to be, yet strong and firm. You felt yourself move your own lips against his until both of you were passionately locked in one another. You felt his arm slide against your waist as you gasped, pulling you into his lap. Your mouth moved fervently against his, feeling the way he groaned beneath you. Something about the moment was complete bliss, and suddenly you were far away from your worries and goals in life, and all you wanted to do was to be wrapped in his arms for all eternity.

It all came to a halt when you felt his bandage arm try and glide against your body to pull you further down before the pain tore through. “Damn it!” Neteyam cursed, as you both pushed away in alarm. Your eyes widened as you  fell away from his arms looking frightened at hurting him, but also at what had just transpired.

Looking around you realized it was now nightfall and most definitely one skip away from being permanently grounded forever. The spirit trees moved as the wind passed them by, a few sacred seeds falling around both of you, most definitely aware of what had just transpired from you.

“I’m sorry.” Neteyam apologized, his breath still uneven, and his mouths a bit swollen from your own lips. If it had been any other situation you would have climbed back into his arms, but you realized you definitely should be heading back. Getting up from your position, your hand reached to grab his uninjured one. 

“We should get going.”

Neteyam stuttered before grabbing onto your hand and standing next to you. “I- Don’t you want to talk about what just happened?” His hand swept across his face. “So does this mean…?”

“I-” You were at a loss for words. “I don’t know.”

Neteyam laughed before shaking his head. “You are unlike any female I’ve met.”

You bit your lip as you shook your head, laughing with him. “Look, I’m not sure if I’m-”

“Before you say anything.” Neteyam said, grabbing your arm to keep you from walking away. “Can I take you out on that date anyways? Since I figured it was a tie, and I was going to try and cover for you anyways.”

“I don’t think anything will save either of us from punishment, Neteyam.” You chuckled, shaking your head, before turning around and making your way back to your Ikran to fly back to camp. 

“So?” Neteyam called back to you, as you heard his steps race toward your own. You turn around watching as he got closer and everything that had just transpired came rushing in.

“Yes.” You smiled. You realized there was nothing stopping you from him. You spent so much of your life running from love because you thought it would stop you from achieving your goals in life. That was until you met Neteyam, and suddenly you couldn’t imagine your life without him. You were hopelessly in love. “As long as you promise you can kiss me just like before.”

Neteyam grinned, before nodding, grabbing your waist and pulling you in close. “Deal.” 

And just like that, you had fallen for the Ikranä Maktoyu, with no chance of catching yourself either.

[kasarasun]

what if I made a thing or it already was that while Airplane wrote the world, Peerless Cucumber illustrated it (only the animals. And Binghe, fighting the animals.) And then then then

He'd totally do it on an alt account, right?? Peerless Cucumber can't be seen making fanart!! (And he's good at it. Like, wiki is using his art in the monsters and beasts pages (that Peerless Cucumber volleyed for. He also separated it from the plant section.) Because 1 its good 2 the artstyle is consistent 3 there isn't a lot of monster official art, other than that one with the black moon rhinoceros python and those other ones and 4 it's really that good)

Haha incomprehensible parenthesis nesting aside, Airplane is watching the forums, right? Not sure about other stuff in canon but he looks at the forums and the fanart and the fiction and most of it is probably corn and binghe and just a little bit of mobei-jun and also the wives tm but!! There's also that guy!!! The monsters guy!! (People would probably suspect 'Drawing the Beast's Ire'- or some other sex euphemism I'm not good at making those- of being Peerless Cucumber because 1 the writing style is the same 2 Peerless Cucumber is the number 1 contributor to the PIDW wiki and a lot of it is the monsters and beasts section and it makes sense, yes??) Anyway, Airplane shooting towards the sky suspects but not too seriously suspects Mr ire of being cucumber's fanart alt but uh uh that ends pre-transmigration section

So, Shen Yuan starts running about, right? Things seem really... familiar, maybe thats the word?- for some reason. This is because every animal and plant he's ever drawn, sketched- maybe even thought about but that's a stretch?- is his design. The firefly parallels hold their forelimbs like butterflies. That is how far down it goes. Maybe it doesn't come up until later, but beasts and monsters from fanfiction get involved, oc species, too... anyway,

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky transmigrates 30 years (iirc) before Peerless Cucumber. He was an avid enough follower of Drawing the Beast's Ire to recognize that these are their designs! Here's where it gets really crazy. Xiao-Mobei comes along, and while he's still pretty young, Airplane can tell that this is Drawing Ire's design! Some aspect, maybe his ears or teeth, (this isn't a well built theoretical tangent) of Mobei isnt canon. Its Drawing Ire's. From that one Northern Kingdom collection. Whatever stretched his world building into coherence, completion, didn't just pull from fanwork, official art, whatever it could find, it went for Drawing the Beast's Ire's designs specifically. Damn that's crazy Airplane ahahaha moving on,

This is getting really long so I'll be a bit more concise, (want to know more? Talk to me. Please talk to me. I want to interact with the fandom. Ask me questions. Poke your fingers into my cage.) This all comes to head at the Immortal alliance conference. The monsters and beasts really start pouring in! And Shen Qingqiu/Yuan remembers his creations. However, he assumes that this is because like 1 other person maybe was Drawing ghost head spiders.

Hey, Peerless Cucumber really liked the monsters, right? The deadlier, crazier, more intricate, the design the better! So maybe, when he was drawing, he... added some things, really believable, logical additions, really just small creative decisions...

Anyway, the monsters that Drawing the Beast's Ire made were where it came to a head.

Lets have another Canon divergence. Maybe, during or after Binghe gets pushed in, out of the rifts comes a species that Drawing Ire created. It's beautiful, poisonous, beloved, and really quite deadly. Shen Yuan/Qingqiu, Peerless Cucumber, Drawing the Beast's Ire... realizes, quite like airplane before him, that he's illustrated, practically sculpted with his own hands, monsters from the Endless Abyss with claws and teeth and poisons as deadly as Peerless Cucumber thought that the really cool monsters could deserve. It feels like he's the one cutting, biting, poisoning his sweet little sheep. It feels like he's digging out the marrow from his little white lotus disciple's bones.

Ok it is shut up time 👍

[caffeineandsociety]

The more I think about it the more I suspect that a lot of the reason people are resistant to the concept of transandrophobia is that to accept it would make it harder to avoid reckoning with the way we treat men of color, and hell, POC in general.

I know part of it is just...a long-running misunderstanding of intersectionality as "the intersection of various axes of oppression, in which Privileged Identities are irrelevant or even take away from it" rather than "the intersection of all aspects of a person's identity to form a whole that may look very different from someone else who shares a singular trait, or unexpectedly similar to someone who doesn't", and thus reading the concept as "ACKSHUALLY it's WOMEN who oppress MEN and so WE'RE the ones with TWO Oppression Points, not those stupid and shallow and overprivileged trans women!"

But I cannot help but suspect that a lot of people really fucking don't WANT to break away from that misinterpretation because it would mean having to reckon SPECIFICALLY with how that misinterpretation has hurt POC. How it reinforces all the ideas that lead to the brutalization of MOC. How some "anti-racist" people on this site would absolutely have sided against Emmett Till had they lived in that time with the same mindset - that it's not a coincidence that the decline of Black tumblr became so sharp around the George Floyd protests. How they only care about how Black and brown women are masculinized and transvestigated so far as they can hold them up as "collateral damage" evidence of why we should leave white trans people alone.

And honestly, I HOPE that as this exclusionism wave dies down, it doesn't just come with the recognition of the risks that white transmascs face, or white transmascs claiming the increased risks of police brutality as their own struggle first and foremost; I want it to be a fucking leg-up to acknowledging the way gender intersects with MULTIPLE other factors INCLUDING RACE.

I know that "popping the bubble" - grappling with the fact that the way you've misunderstood something has hurt people - is painful. I get it. But you have to fucking do it because the alternative is "keep hurting other people."

[castillon02]

“Make them clean their own guns,” Nguyen said, leaning her considerable bulk over Q’s desk. She was just starting her shift. “Or at least wear gloves.” 

Q kept plunging a bore brush soaked with cleaning fluid into the barrel of 007’s Walther PPK. His eyes burned with fatigue. “I’ll take it under advisement.” 

When he finished, he left with gun oil on his fingers, fingers that had traced over the gun’s every crevice, every curve and angle, every metal and electric anatomical fold. 

—

“Why not tell us to clean our own guns?” 006 asked. 

“I'm a control freak,” Q said. “Which is also why I know that yours is in the middle of the Atlantic and not in need of cleaning at all.” 

This was a lie. 006 had reported the gun lost at sea but had actually smuggled it back into his own flat, where it was currently residing in what Q suspected was his bedroom and knew for certain was the room that also had a backup earwig that Q had personally assembled, a Ka-Bar that Q had archaically sharpened on a whetstone, and one of the decoy keychains and keys (Alaska) that Q kept on his desk so that agents had something harmless to swipe. Probably there were other things that 006 also had in his nest, but they would be things that Q hadn’t touched and could only theorize about. 

Q was bad at lying. 

006 visibly recognized this, realized that Q was lying in his favor, and couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “Right,” he said. 

Q smiled. Fixed him with a specific knowing look. You don’t ask, I don’t ask. “If it hadn’t sunk into the fathoms below, I would recommend a new hammer spring. Sometimes these things get a bit fussy when you use a gun as a bludgeon. That’s part of why I do in-person maintenance.” 

Part of the reason; not the whole reason. 

006 muttered a Russian curse. “Thank you, Q.” 

“Happy to help.” 

---

001 brought his guns back clean, but with a new part in them each time; a replacement firing pin, hammer, ejector rod, bullets. 

Q always asked about the replacement. He did it before disassembling the gun, like a magic trick.

001 always grinned like a mischievous schoolboy. “I’ll get you next time,” he would say, wagging a finger at him. Perhaps you’re more fallible than you believe. 

“It’s good that you’re optimistic,” Q would reply loftily. No mistakes. I see your gun. I see your tricks. I see you. 

—

004 never cleaned her gun and always brought it back. Hers was a semi-automatic of Theseus, parts replaced naturally when there was wear and tear. 

“Same as always?” she asked when she picked up her kit. 

“Same as always,” Q confirmed. 

—

When Q was a child, he asked, “Mum, why do you always shout about your car keys in the morning? And why does Peter never know where his pencils are?” 

She frowned into the mirror and finished applying her lipstick. “Sometimes people lose things, dear.” 

“How?” Q asked, boggled. 

She looked at him with squinched eyes; that meant she was thinking hard. “Well,” she said slowly, “we forget where we put them, or someone puts them somewhere we don’t expect.” 

Q squinched his own eyes too. What could she be thinking so hard about?  

Mum smiled. “Tell you what, we’ll see if I can give you a demonstration after school, all right?”  

Mum didn’t turn on the telly right away after dinner like she usually did. Instead, she sat down next to him on the sofa. “Sweetheart, you know how you asked about when I lose my keys? Does that ever happen to you?” She was trying to be casual about it, but if it were really unimportant then she would have asked during a commercial. 

“One time I pretended it did,” he told her, “because I was curious to see what it was like. So one day while you were doing the shopping I put one of my books on top of the telly and stomped around in the other room going ‘Where the hell is my story book?’ in a loud voice like you do with your keys. It was a little fun, but not much.” 

“It’s not fun to lose things. Do you know,” she asked, “where your story book is now?” 

“Yes, of course,” he said. His story book was immense and well-thumbed, so heavy that it made him grunt whenever he had to lift it, but he had already read through all of it at least four times. It had hard edges and corners that were beginning to bend; chocolate fingerprints littered the pages at the beginning because his hands had still been sticky from birthday cake when he first opened it—he can put his fingers on them now and see how much he’s grown. There’s a stain of pomegranate juice at the beginning of the Persephone story from the pomegranate that his mother had bought before they read it together; a special treat, expensive, but “you have to know what a pomegranate is before you read it,” she’d said, “otherwise you’ll wonder why they’re eating the seeds.”    

“And where is it?” his mum asked. She had to know that Q knew, because why wouldn’t he know? 

He answered anyway. She ‘humored’ Q a lot, she sometimes told him, so he could humor her this time. “In the vegetable drawer,” he said. “You came home for lunch and moved it there. But that’s a silly place for things that aren’t vegetables, isn’t it?” 

His mum closed her eyes and sighed, long and deep the way she did every so often when Q asked too many questions that she couldn’t answer. “You’re right,” she said after a moment. “I’m lucky to have a son who knows that. But most people can’t keep track of their things as well as you can, so let’s not talk about it too much and make them envious, all right?” 

That was something he knew how to do. He had already had a few talks about not stirring the other kids up with how smart he was. Plus he could tell from the tightness in her voice, like when she talked to her boss’s boss or Q’s headmaster, that she was nervous. “Sure, Mum,” he said. “I won’t.”   

So he never mentioned it again. 

He also never lost his keys, or his rucksack, or his socks, or anything else he touched and touched often. He might as well try to lose his own foot.     

—

“You know, we can clean our own guns,” 002 said, dropping her pistol onto Q’s desk. “In fact, you’ll find I did.” 

Q smiled. “That will make it much quicker when I do it, then.” 

002 pursed her lips and blew a pink bubble with her gum, which Q Branch had also issued her. ���And where do you want this?” She took the sticky wad out of her mouth and held it out to him. “Gonna chew it for me?” 

Q held out a petri dish. “We have better chemical analyzers than my tongue, I’m happy to say. We do want to see about the wear and tear on the product.” He met her eyes. “Reliability is important in our field.”  

002’s performatively petulant glare softened. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and next time you’ll make it into plastique instead of a tracker.” One corner of her mouth quirked up.

The sticks of gum were actually one of Q’s least favorite gadgets; like most gum, it was sensitive to heat, so he couldn’t hold it for long without destroying its structural integrity. Couldn’t sense what he usually sensed. But if it put a smile on 002’s face as well as being useful to her, he’d keep issuing it.   

—

“A gun and a radio,” Q said. He waved his hand at the corner of his desk where he’d perched the usual equipment case. “Earwig will be distributed at your landing site. Unless things go terribly wrong, the local team should be able to support you for this one.” 

Bond took the case. “Anything else?”     

Q looked up; he’d been double-checking Bond’s mission brief and wondering how much structural damage the Managua team could make excuses for. “Cufflinks.” He pulled a small box out of his desk drawer and opened it. Inside lay a pair of cufflinks, copies of ones that Bond already owned and wore frequently. “They have little folding knives in them.” He demonstrated how the outside half could be pulled apart to reach the blade in the middle. 

The corners of Bond’s eyes were all happy wrinkles. “Am I expected to need tiny knives?” 

“No,” Q admitted. “But you brought the Walther back last time and I thought you could use some positive reinforcement. May I?” He removed the old cufflinks and put the new ones on, his fingertips brushing against the warm skin of 007’s wrists as he did. “Good luck in the field, 007,” he said after he closed the last French cuff. “As always, try to bring the equipment back in one piece.”   

“As always,” Bond echoed, his eyes meeting Q’s before he left. 

The cufflinks weren’t just positive reinforcement, of course. They were a connection; this meant that it was even odds that Bond would destroy them. (Paradoxically, Bond had the best equipment survival rate when that equipment self-destructed; he wore the latest exploding watch for three months and four missions before he had to use it.) 

Q didn’t touch the other 00s, who stayed near their equipment, more or less, and who deserved their privacy, deserved not to have their footsteps tracked through the crevices of Q’s brain. In fact, he didn't touch anyone. Not if he could help it.

With Bond, Q made excuses for the tiniest bit of extra assurance, the mental tip-toe of 00 feet sneaking across the globe. 

—

“Make Hutchinson do it,” Nguyen said, back again. “He loves guns; he’d be thrilled to do maintenance on company time.” 

Q met her eyes. “I take personal responsibility for the equipment of our most senior agents. They deserve that level of consistency.” He changed out the cleaning swatch he was using. 

“How consistent will you be if you burn out because you never leave this place? Guns, radios, earpieces--you can delegate. Our work is important, but...” 

“I’m almost done,” Q said, implacable. 

Nguyen sighed. “Sleep well, Quartermaster.” She showed herself out.             

Q dried, oiled, and reassembled the gun. He would make sure to catch up with Doctor Who and a few blockbusters so he could convince Nguyen that he sometimes made an effort to think about things that weren’t work or work-related. They could collaborate on blueprints for a sonic screwdriver. It would be fine. 

He would even give the same advice if he were in her position. She couldn’t know that Hutchinson doing as simple a thing as cleaning a Double-Oh’s gun until it shone would be detrimental to the delicate safety net that Q had been building since he had arrived at Six.  

Q touched everything his agents went out with, enough that he could still sense 007's old Walther in Macau, 001's discarded ejector rod in Tunis, 004's stack of worn-out gun parts secreted in a tea tin hidden behind a book on his shelf because he liked the thrum of them all together like that, and there was always the risk, at work, that they'd be disposed of.

He never lost things that were truly his. Guns, radios, earwigs, cufflinks.

He hadn’t lost an agent yet either.

[piningforstan]

Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Not really any? Let me know if I missed one

A/N: All Most of my oneshots are inspired by songs I guess😂 I’m thinking there might be 2 or 3 parts to this one

Stan lied.

To everyone.

Perhaps it was delusional to think that it didn’t apply to you. You, your reasoning was, were special. At the end of the day he crawled into bed next to you and pressed his cold toes to your calf, laughing as you squirmed away. You made grocery lists together and raided the aisles for food and supplies. It was you that he whispered his fears and hopes to.

So you thought nothing when he lied to the tourists, lied to the banks, lied to the man who “dropped” his wallet (Stan had pickpocketed it and you forced him to return it). You thought nothing when the lies bled into your daily life, domestic bliss disrupted with the occasional white lie. You told yourself: everyone does it.

It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

The room in the Shack that you stumbled upon on accident one day while looking for warmer blankets. “My brother’s room,” he told you. The brother, that you knew, was dead. You let it be, didn’t ask questions. But if it was his brother’s, why did all of the books say his name? Stanford Pines. Scrawled in margins and on the wall like a hasty addition. You didn’t have time to inspect it too closely, but the handwriting looked too neat to be Stan’s — tidy and cramped, unlike the sprawling letters you had seen him print on your paychecks.

STNLYMBLE his license plate read. It wasn’t his brother’s car, he affectionately retold stories of his time in the vehicle before. Maybe it was a tribute of some kind?

A million instances that accumulated in your mind like clutter in an attic, each one a box that you labeled and tucked away for later.

The first snow had just coated itself over Gravity Falls when the sleep talking started. You were roused awake by Stan twitching and muttering, the alarm clock blinking the time at you from the nightstand.

Too early. You rolled over, trying to grasp at the last remnants of your dream. It wasn’t much longer before he was muttering again, louder this time, hands clutching at the sheets and his face scrunching in unmistakable pain.

“Portal…help…” whatever disturbed his dreams made no sense to you here in the real world. You listened quietly. “I promise, Ma…I promise.”

Segments of promises and reassurances, bits of stories that you hadn’t heard before and couldn’t parse out yourself. It didn’t concern you at first, chalking it up to stress — about the Shack during the cold winter months, or maybe whatever work he did in the basement.

And then they became more specific. Unsettling.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. An accident.” Sweat glistened on his forehead and wet the dark curls at his temples. The weirdest part is when he would whimper: “I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry. The portal…”

The portal, the portal, the portal — the one reoccurring connection to all of the sleep talking.

The dreams were worse during the holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. It was sometime after the beginning of the new year and you were nestled into one another on the couch when you asked him, “What’s the portal?”

Stan kept his gaze on the TV but his body stiffened beneath you. “What?”

“The portal.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

You don’t know why, but you sensed that you’ve crossed a line, somehow, said something wrong. In an effort to lighten the mood, you injected a hint of humor in your voice, “You’ve been sleep talking lately and you keep mentioning a portal. Is it a bad dream or something?”

“Or something,” Stan coolly replied.

A beat passed between you, tension palpable. The TV flickered off. Stan untangled himself from you without a word and started up the stairs. You stumbled after him.

“Stan, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, whirling on you, one hand braced on the rail. “I’m tired is all.”

You steeled yourself for an argument, aware of it approaching like a storm on the horizon. “For weeks — months — you’ve been having these awful dreams and talking about someone named Ford. And a portal.”

Sometimes you wake up in tears. Sometimes the pain in your voice is enough to make me nauseous. Sometimes you cry for forgiveness.

“S’probably nothin’.”

“Nothing? Stanford, I know something is wrong.”

You had both made it to the landing now, an old fashioned draw. Shadows thrown across his face, Stan possessed an unpredictable air, sharp and glinting like the blade of a knife in the dark. It slipped away just as quickly as the image had impressed upon you. Did you imagine it?

His features arranged into a semblance of shame, sheepish in nature. “I jus’ don’t wanna talk about it, alright? I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You ain’t gotta worry about me, doll.”

You wanted to press the matter. Wanted to know why he was being elusive and why his explanation rubbed you the wrong way.

But you didn’t.

A month or two passed. Spring lingered in the woods, melting snow and glimpses of greenery. You hadn’t mentioned the portal or the dreams again. Stan would go some nights without sleeping at all. You knew this only because you would wake up at night and roll over, expecting his warmth and finding the bed cold and empty.

“What are you doing in the basement?” You asked one day when you were feeling particularly brave. Stan was your kind-of boyfriend, after all, and you asserted to yourself that you had the right to know where he spent most of his time.

Stan, shoveling food in his mouth, shrugged and replied in a muffled tone, “Science stuff.”

He was off doing science stuff when you poked around the entirety of the Shack, searching for this alleged basement. How could there be no doors? You patrolled the perimeter of the building and spotted a cellar but it refused to budge. It unsettled you that couldn’t find an entry to the basement and hadn’t thought to even look before now.

“You wouldn’t want to see it, it’s boring,” he would tell you and you would believe him, his large hands roaming over your skin. “I can think of much more fun things to do up ‘ere.”

It worried at the back of your mind constantly, this idea that you were just another victim in Stan’s lies. Were you being dramatic?

The answer came to you in the dark of the night, moonlight spilling over the floor in silvery bars. Stan woke you as he staggered out of bed, muttering and bumping into the dresser that now hosted a mixture of your clothing. You sat up.

“Stan, honey? Where are you going?”

He never ceased his muttering to answer, persisting down the stairs in his sluggish manner. You grabbed a robe and threw it over yourself, following after him. After several more attempts to get his attention, you came to the conclusion that his sleep talking had now progressed into sleep walking. You knew you should’ve woken him but you curiously trailed behind, through the living room, the kitchen, and into the gift shop.

A blue glow from the vending machine washed over Stan as he ambled towards it, thick fingers pushing the buttons. Was he just hungry, sleepily venturing for a midnight snack? You wouldn’t put it past him. You reached out a hand, ready to rouse him from his trance, when a strange whirring emitted from the vending machine.

Shock rooted you in place as the machine didn’t release any food but rather swung open miraculously on its hinges, disclosing a corridor instead. Stan never even hesitated as he just continued on, broad shoulders and bedhead disappearing around the corner.

Rendered motionless for several moments, you finally decided to go after him. Where was he going? He could hurt himself.

You shuffled into the corridor. An uneasy feeling descended upon you like the legs of a spider, brushing against every inch of your skin. The chill cutting through your robe told you that you were being led further under ground, finally emptying into an enormous room.

And it wasn’t even the size of the room that surprised you, but rather the gigantic metal contraption crouched to one side. From what you could tell it wasn’t working. A huge, darkened eye stared at you from the middle of the rafters.

A window?

A portal.

Stan had ceased his dreamlike ambling to stand before this machine, gazing up at it like it might offer him some kind of absolution.

Your voice, small and afraid: “Stan?”

The trance broke, a taut rubber-band snapped in the way that his shoulders rounded and he glanced around in confusion. You could only imagine the look on your face as he turned to you.

Your name left his mouth, panicked. “What are you doing here?”

“Stan, what is that? Where are we?” Hysteria gripped you. “What’s going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stan replied.

“Did you…did you make this? What is this?”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go upstairs. I can explain all this. A’right?”

“No, Stan, I’m tired of all of the lies and the sneaking around. I’m staying here. And you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

A defeated expression crossed his face. He went over to a panel of controls and leaned against it, hip and elbow. “Ya know I would never hurt ya on purpose, doll. I-I care about you.”

You wanted to soften. But you held yourself strong, heart fracturing. “Stan?”

“I guess I don’t know where to start.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then slowly began to unravel the story that you had pieced together over the time. Except, this time, details were changed— the truth, you realized, not the altered version he had given you.

Everything you thought you knew about this man, this man that you loved, disappeared and took on a new form. The childhood in New Jersey accompanied by a twin brother. His years as a drifter a result of his father kicking him out, not a pursuit of freedom and independence. Even the Mystery Shack, his name, wasn’t his.

Stanley Pines, he said.

Stanley. Not Stanford.

And his brother wasn’t dead but lost in time, and he was trying valiantly to find him again.

“All of this, all of the lies…are for him. It’s my fault that he’s gone and I need to fix my mistake.” Stan’s voice had taken on a strained edge, on the verge of tears. “I’ve made so many but this one…this one I’m close to fixing.”

“You come down here to work on a…portal,” you said, not sure what else to say.

“It’s the only way.” Stan took a step towards you, then thought better of it. “I-I didn’t wanna lie. But I had no idea how much you would mean to me. It was one lie an’ then another and I couldn’t take any of ‘em back. Not without you lookin’ at me like how you are now.”

“I trusted you,” you breathed.

“I’m still me.” He flinched. “Well, kinda. Besides the name and everything. That hasn’t changed. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“What do you mean? Everything has changed,” you snapped, “Everything I know about you is a lie! I don’t even know what to think right now.” You shook your head as if to dislodge the torrent of thoughts. “You led me to believe that you were someone else. That your brother — who is actually you? — died. I grieved him with you, Stan. And you just lied to me again and again like it was nothing. How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’m tellin’ you, I didn’t want —”

“To lie? But lying is what you do best. It’s all clear to me now. I-I can’t do this. I need air.”

Your feet carried you without permission, away from the strange basement and the portal and Stan. Stanley. Not Stanford. You heard his heavy footsteps as he chased after you, one hand on your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“Don’t go. Please. I can make this right.”

“No, you can’t.” You fought back tears as you looked at him, so heartbreakingly handsome and wounded and earnest. “I can’t be with someone who I don’t even know. Everything about us has been built on lies.”

He didn’t try and stop you as you stepped out of his grip and back into the gift shop, nor did he follow you. You shoved out onto the porch and into the greying, mushy snow, gathered in piles in the corners of the forest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t be here.

[nothorses]

I came across this paper:

https://www.academia.edu/71372307/Trans_masculinities_embodiments_performances_and_the_materiality_of_gender_in_times_of_change

I'm not well-versed in academic language so I can't really understand all of it, but it seems kind of gross and condescending, especially when it's using testimonials of transmasc's desire to be seen as men to, idk, prove that masculinity isn't really queer or something? I'm curious how other (smarter) people would interpret it.

I mean, your understanding of it is just as important as mine! I'm happy to add my thoughts, though.

My understanding is that their thesis is essentially "masculinity is related to maleness and the male body specifically, and we know that because transmascs want to have male bodies". They allow for some nuance here in references to other literature, and I agree with that angle of their argument overall, but their premise is fundamentally flawed in the exclusion of trans theory and trans narratives.

Like, yes, masculinity is in some way related to appearance and the "male body", and there are a lot of reasons for that! But is the dysphoria of trans people really ironclad "proof" of what maleness and masculinity are? And why don't they spend any time talking about what dysphoria actually is, what trans people think it is, why trans people think they feel the way they do, or what trans academics have to say about any of this?

I have a lot of other issues with this paper as well, and I could probably write a paper just as long as theirs going into all of the reasons for that. But I think that answers your biggest question; what they're trying to prove, how they're trying to prove it, and why that comes across so weird.

To your other question ("is it condescending?"): I think this is kind of subjective overlay, but the way they go about analyzing their data is pretty condescending, in my opinion. They tend to frame their participants' responses as kind of misguided or ill-informed, particularly Diniz- who they definitely discuss as "trying to justify his choices" to identify as nonbinary while also seeking medical transition, like this is inherently contradictory and must therefore rely on some kind of delusion or desperation. It's weird!

I do also want to point out, briefly, that they also really cherrypick which claims they bother sourcing, and how they try to back them up.

They argue that trans men have male privilege based on the opinions of, like, three of their 30 total participants- and then carry this as "fact" through the entire paper, uncontested. That's extremely fucking weird and super suspect in a paper like this! I just wrote my own qualitative research paper based on interviews (which is what this is), and it's pretty standard to acknowledge the limitations of your research, and to position your results as non-definitive. Like, that's been a major part of every discussion with everyone I've talked to about my research. I would not have been greenlit to receive my degree if I hadn't been careful to avoid framing my research the way these people frame theirs.

The other weird thing they do is cherrypick statistics- or rather, one single statistic- to "prove" that transmascs do not suffer as much as other trans people, or possess some kind of privilege. They only cite murder statistics from one source; apparently that's the only relevant metric for quantifying all oppression? They also fail to acknowledge any possible shortcomings of this statistic, like the issues of under-reporting and misgendering of transmasc victims.

I could go on; I have a lot of gripes. But I think your criticism is totally valid, this was a weird and frustrating read.

Also curious if @genderkoolaid has thoughts- you tend to talk about gender studies from an academic position more, and you probably have a lot more field-specific expertise than I do. I'll boost other additions too, I love a good academic discussion!