#but good thing is they are very few in numbers

[trainsinanime]

Trains in Anime - KPop Demon Hunters

As always, for the purposes of this blog, something is anime if it's animated and I want to talk about it. I'm not changing this URL no matter what.

KPop Anime Hunters is the current Big Thing on Netflix, an animated movie about… well, exactly what it says on the tin. Catchy songs, fun visuals and characters, highly recommended. But most importantly, there are trains in there. Two… sort of.

1. Rumi's Comfy Pants

As worn in the first Tiger scene.

10/10, adorable, no notes. As long as they survive the movie, of course, otherwise…

Oh.

Okay, but that isn't the main one, the big point is…

The Subway Fight

In this fight scene we get a lot of shots of the top of the train, some of the interior, but very few good ones of the front… until the very end, when they leave and it pulls away.

Yep, that's a Seoul Metro train alright. Specifically, according to Wikipedia, a third-generation 7000 series train, also known as "SR000" series.

Image by "smart lance", published under CC-BY-NC-SA 2.0 KR, via namuwiki - there seems to be no way to link to the image page directly

They changed a number of details, probably to avoid copyright issues; for example the green stripes aren't quite in the same pattern, the logo is a bit bigger and simplified (you can also find the real train with a different earlier logo), the numbers are changed, but ultimately, yeah, clearly the same.

The real train was introduced to Seoul's metro line 7 between 2010 and 2012, and that's where it's stayed since. Apparently only seven trains were built due to various political issues, based on an article in a Korean Wiki. Apparently the trains actually belong to Incheon and Bucheon in different amounts; Seoul's metro is large and runs right into neighbouring cities, including line 7, so these trains are (part of) these cities's share of the line.

The interior in the show appears to be taken from a different train.

Almost all subway cars on Seoul's metro look similar on the inside, but here the detail of the triangular seat ends is notable. The best match I've been able to find is the 9000 series cars of line 9, some of which have similar triangles. (There don't appear to be any freely licensed pictures of the insides of Seoul's metro trains, even that Wiki appears to have used theirs under questionable circumstances, so you only get a link, sorry.)

Finally, let's go to the station:

The station is actually very well identified: Station 510 is written there clearly. All of Seoul's metro stations have a three or four digit code, where the first one or two digits indicate the line, and the last two the specific stop (counting from one end of the line). This is common in asian countries to help foreign visitors who may not know the local writing system. This station also has English letters identifying it as "Inland Resort". In real life, station 510 is on line 5, is called Bangwha, and is underground. That aside, though: I have not been able to identify the original station this is based on, but I would say it looks realistic.

These minor mismatches aside, the biggest unrealistic thing about the whole thing is… well, the demon fight, and isn't that such a boring answer? Sorry.

But just for completeness's sake: You should never get on top of a real-life Seoul subway train for any reason, not even to fight demons. Like a lot of newer subway systems, Seoul's subways are powered by overhead wires, energised at 1500 Volts, which means standing on top of one gives you a very good chance of getting a life-threatening electric shock. And even if the demons and the girls of Huntrix are magically immune from electric shocks (which would totally fit, that's my headcanon now), there's still just a mass of wires and in particular equipment holding the wires up that's annoyingly in the way at all times.

But overall: Very good trains, very good attention to detail, the biggest problem is that Rumi threw away her comfortable adorable Choo-choo pants.

(Yes, I did post the same thing without pictures before. Turns out the trick for Netflix screenshots is still using Chrome and disabling graphics acceleration. Firefox without graphics acceleration didn't work for me, that's why I got confused.)

[whatifsandspheres]

Wow, Don't know how this popped up on Google, but there it is. Listen, I understand how much sentimentality and emotion is involved when it comes to something like the "right" to have children. Ironically, they use figures like production capacity to rationalize it. OP is using it here in a similar way, but I don't think it discredits the merit of urging people to be more conscientious about reproducing. You're making a person. You're not buying a purse. Anyway. These are cultural features of society, not economic. Although they have a role and are blended into the economic model, they stem from a culture where it was cheaper to breed slaves that you didn't have to provide humane conditions for. It goes back further to the roots of agrarian sedentary society after the crutch it served around the melting of the ice-age glaciers and the flooding of former coastal forage and subsistence grounds. Before then, population control wasn't about this notion people now have of it as some sort of mandate or top-down oppressive control. It was more about a personal ethic of the nomadic peoples that practiced agroforestry and who invented the crops that would later lead down the bottleneck of domestic crop farming. These were necessary subsistence changes and fortunately an alternative to intense meat eating and cannibalism which were also adaptations in the colder northern and some tropical islands with very poor nutrient leached soils. We're animals, but we're less like locusts than we are like coyotes. Coyotes practice birth control by making calls to each other across their territories. It alters their fertility by triggering a hormonal switch in their brains when they communicate how many of them there are nearby and thus how many mouths there are to feed in close proximity. The fewer calls, the more pups they'll allow each other to have-- so long as they can feed them. Locusts leave it to swarming should there be plenty, and browsing in small numbers if there isn't. They aren't social animals like coyotes, they're highly individualistic. Those ethics developed by hominid ancestors were like the modern indigenous peoples who have descended from the first nations. When it comes to foraging, they don't balk "why should I limit myself to only taking one of these fruits, when I could take them all?!" "Why shouldn't I harvest these endangered mushrooms/plants/animals?! If I don't do it someone else will!" Take a look a this:

And take a look at this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HV0m6kbRDNI

In the full talk you can hear what the limits are to literally melt the surface of the planet worse than Venus. And when you blame economics for people's behavior, where does dietary habit come into play? Attitudes toward animal life as an ingredient in diet as if we are still starving monkeys afraid of not having another thing to eat for the next two weeks?

The attitudes of unchecked human reproduction are the same ones that fuel migration pressures so that imperialist countries can have cheap labor that they then deport even if they afford a few dignified working and living conditions. They're the same ones fueling genocide in central Africa or Palestine right now. Trust me. I understand how "productivity" might on the surface seem like a good thing. But look at the numbers of humans currently enslaved. Over 50 million! Maybe just because we can, doesn't mean we should. Maybe it's not the best route to take, even if eventually we would have reached current population levels anyway.

quarterly reminder that if youre worried about overpopulation then i hate you

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER NINE - chicken scratch

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

The beep of a heart monitor is constant background noise over the course of the next week.  Constant.  Rhythmic as the ticking of the clock across the empty, sterile hospital room, and just as annoying as the fluorescent lights above your head.  If it weren't for the throbbing pain of a concussion in your skull and the debilitating ache of dark bruises, you'd be restless in the quiet silence, but right now—all you really have the energy to do is sleep and think.

Think think think.

You only remember bits and pieces of what happened after Soap found you both.  You recall, vaguely, Price's countless apologies upon getting ushered back into another helicopter, the warmest hug you’ve ever received and a quick once over for any bad injuries.  You remember Gaz looking rather worse for wear as he limps down a runway—a twisted arm positioned carefully over Soap's shoulder.  Pale, dazed, jaw tight with pain.  You remember wrestling out of Ghost’s grasp to greet him, tearful and hyperventilating.

“Happens every time,” he had managed with a tight smile and a thumbs up, once you calmed down enough to breathe properly.

"Nice eye,"  you remember blearily telling Soap from where your cheek is pressed to Ghost's back later on.  A nasty bruise blooming across his face where flesh is nearly swollen shut, you had almost forgotten you punched him.  The front of his shirt is speckled with blood but considering he and Price the only ones relatively uninjured, you figure you don't want to know its source. 

"Nice brain,"  he snaps back immediately, eyes flitting across the dried blood that soaks your hair and the side of your sweater.  "Y'lose the last half of it in the crash, Mutt?"

Gaz chuckles deliriously at the comment.  For some reason, it makes you laugh too, and soon enough all three of you are laughing—relieved and hurting.  Even Price shakes his head, somewhat of a smile twitching across his face.  The Captain’s hand doesn't leave your shoulder once Ghost carefully slides you off his back.  Even he seems reluctant to let you go.

You remember throwing up in a bucket in the back of some SUV, then getting put in a hospital bed with painkillers, stitches, and orders not to look at anything too closely.  You aren't even allowed to have the TV on, but you do so sometimes anyway, even if the sight of your father's face on the news makes you nauseous all over again.

Things are quiet.  Too quiet.  For days after the talk with Price you don't get any visitors.  Just a few vague texts from Laswell and a call from Price that pretty much only consists of him dodging your questions.

You think a lot.  

Most of the sparse times you are awake are spent on the floor where all your father's letters are laid out at your feet.  Blue and black ink smudged across delicate, wrinkled, damp paper as you wait for them to dry completely before even daring to move them.  You've reread them all what feels like fifty times—looking for clues of his plans at the time, hints of Ghost, Nikolai, Laswell…anyone, really.  Dates.  Numbers.  Maybe a code hidden in the words?  You work at it every day, only stopping when you feel like you might vomit again.  You find yourself hoping Price will come through the door with orders to move somewhere—or maybe Ghost with more answers to quell your racing mind.  You want to know if Gaz is okay.  Hell, you'd be happy with Soap's presence if it meant conversation or something.

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.

There’s a knock at your door, about a week in.

Startled, you nearly jump at the disturbance in the silence, having dozed off on the floor.  Letters and neat cursive signatures swirling in your eyes before you blink the bleariness away.  You grunt as you push yourself up, stumble to the door.  Open it slowly.

You blink when your eyes meet a stubbled, tan face.  "Soap?"  

The soldier in question straightens himself.  He's not in fatigues, for once.  Instead, he's got a dark hoodie on—the hood pulled up over his head and sunglasses to hide the bruise around his eye.  

"Aye,"  The Scott replies, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze.  "You…free to talk?"

Your mouth opens and shuts again.  Suddenly everything you wanted to say, everything you thought would come flooding out the second you had a visitor flies from your mind.  Really, he was the last person you expected to come knocking.

"I’m due for surgery in an hour.”

A beat of silence passes and his brow furrows.  "Actually?" 

"No.  Joking."

"Cunt,"  he spits with a scoff,  then he straightens himself a little with a steadying breath.  "I owe ya' an apology, kid."

You blink for a second, more surprised than you ever expected yourself to be.  A part of you pegged him as too prideful to ever even toy with the idea, and you find yourself slightly shocked.  You shake it off quick, though, and lean against the doorframe.  "You owe me a little more than that."

"Can y'just…be serious?"  He insists, exasperated.  "For two seconds?"

You chew the inside of your cheek, feigning thoughtfulness as you consider his words.  Watch him purse his lips.  He looks a little worse for wear—stubble thicker than usual and mohawk not nearly as perfect as it usually is.  Instead, it sits on his forehead, sad and flat. 

You push yourself away from the side of the door.

"Alright,"  you say, gesturing for him to step inside your sterile little room.  "Come in."

He pads in after you, eyeing the paper scattered across the floor and the still-damp backpack that sits spread out on the bedside table—along with the lighter and a few multi-colored clumps of what used to be handfuls of string.  

"Watch your step.  You rip any of those letters, I'll kill you."

He huffs, shuffling over to the chair on the far side of the room.  "Aye."

You take a seat on your bed as he fidgets with his bandaged hands and the room feels suddenly awkward.  There's too much to talk about—so much that neither of you can really pinpoint where to start, what to touch on first.  In the end, it's Soap who clears his throat, fidgeting with his hands.  He’s got a tattoo, you notice.  A symbol you don’t recognize.

"So…"  he says.  "You and L.T…"

You, still, have no idea who knows that your dad was friends with Ghost.  You're sure Price does, considering everything, but you're beginning to think you overestimated how close Ghost is with anyone.  You think nobody really knows who Ghost is; what he's been through, why he's here.  You also like to think that, maybe, your dad did.

"Yeah,"  you nod.  "He's not that scary once he saves your life.”

He huffs in reluctant agreement,  "Aye.  Tell me about it."

"He's saved you before?"

Soap sits back in the seat.  Hands clasped in his lap, his leg bounces as he takes a breath.

"Kinda in the job description, Mutt…to save each other's lives,"  he explains with a shrug.  "But yeah.  I owe 'em, especially for all the times he’s saved my arse.”

You bring your legs up on the bed.  Cross them and grab your ankles.  Nod and purse your lips together before you ask sheepishly: “could you…tell me about it?”

He tilts his head, “about what?”

“One of the times.”

He huffs a breath, tilts his head and looks up like he might have more than a few examples to tell.  A moment passes before he sighs and sits back, settling on one.

“About two years ago, whenever I was first assigned 141.  Was returning to base from the scariest OP I’ve had so far whenever somethin’ came up.  Got ambushed, shot at, separated from the group,”  he says, threatening a smile like it might’ve been a good memory.  “Ghost kept my head on while I stumbled through a city floodin’ with mercs, bleedin’ out and everything.  All while shooting and running away from pursuers of his own. Never thought his stupid fuckin’ jokes would ever give him such a tactile advantage.”

You huff, “never expected him to care so much.”

That pulls a chuckle from Soap.

“Damn right,”  he agrees, crossing his arms.  “But anyone who levels that many Shadows in one night is a good man, in my eyes.”

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  The heart monitor to your right fills the silence for a few moments before you speak up again.

"How is…everything?"  You say.  "With the others."

Soap's lips purse together.  For once, he seems nervous, eyes darting out the window next to you and brow furrowing tight.  Immediately, you tense, your heart rate picking up in your chest.

"It's Gaz, isn't it?"  You press, sitting up straighter.  "Did he die?"

"What?"  Soap chuckles, appalled, and he shakes his head.  "No—no, Christ almighty, Gaz didn't die.  He's fine.  They're all fine.  It's just…"

He clears his throat and gestures uselessly with his hands.

"...It's need-to-know."

You blink at him like he's got four heads.  Panic fades away to confusion as you raise an eyebrow at him, shoulders dropping.

"'Need-to-know'?" You echo.  "The fuck's that mean?"

Soap sighs, looks away again.

"'Means you're getting shipped back to the states, kid."

You think he might-as-well have dumped a bucket of ice water over your head.  Your mind goes blank, swirling questions and what-ifs sucked completely from your brain.  

"Price was supposed to break the news today,"  he explains further.  "'Figured I should stop by before he picked you up to clear the air, y’know?  Leave no bad blood.”

You’re too stunned by his words to really listen, too caught up in the thought that you failed.  You don’t have the codes.  You don’t have training or experience or any of the skills required to be anything more than just another body to protect.  A liability.  A name on a mortuary, if you don’t leave, hide, and stay hidden.  You’ve run out of time and failed.

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.

When you don’t reply, Soap lets out a breath and stands to his feet.

“It was nice knowing ya’,” He places a hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing.  “And I’m sorry.”

Your hands ball into fists, staring at the floor as you clutch the fabric of your sweatpants in your hands.  Your eyes sweeps across the countless letters and birthday cards that litter the ground—soiled, ruined by freezing water and snow.  Pen ink bled out and ruined.  Too late.  Your eyes land on the one he sent just before he disappeared as Soap’s hand disappears from your shoulder; a birthday card signed with the date.  

Beep.  Beep. Beep.

Soap closes the door gently behind him without another word.

Slowly, you slide off the bed.  You reach out and take the birthday card in your hands, still damp from the lakewater.  Six digits.  Circled in red ink.  Shaky handwriting.  There’s zeros after every digit.

Holy fucking shit.

Your feet move before you can even comprehend that you're up and out the door.  The IV track is ripped from your arm before you stumble out into the sterile hallway, alarms beeping in your wake.  Bare feet slide against the hospital floors.  You barely notice how someone yells for you at the counter as you pass, or the raging footsteps behind you.  Nurses, more than likely, that you ignore completely.

"Soap!"  You yell, waving the waterlogged card in your hand as your eyes catch the dark of his hoodie in the elevator.  Your legs burn and your head is pounding so hard from the sudden movement that your vision is dark around the edges, but you press on anyway until you slide into the elevator.  Soap grunts, reaching out to steady you when your legs give and your head swims.

“Jesus, Mutt, what—”

“Take me to Price.”

He blinks, squeezing your upper arms tight, “Price?”

“The code,”  you breathe.  “I know the fucking code.”

There’s a beep.  The elevator opens to the ground floor of the hospital, and suddenly you’ve got guns trained on you from all directions.  Black gear, dark helmets, riot shields and tactical vests.  You barely have time to freeze before Soap jumps in front of you and all hell breaks loose.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben @enfppixie @lyd14k4y @tlkonthestr33t @raye2000 @shinchanboi @orkwardx0

[genericpuff]

I feel like the major issue is that you can pay for something on apps like Webtoon, but you’re not paying for life. And if those apps go down— I believe two are actually going defunct now (pocket comics(?) and one other)— all that money you spent to read them legally is gone. And there’s no digital copy of the stories you bought either that you can save. So if you want to keep reading it legally, you have to go to another site, soend even more money (esp if you don’t remember where you left off), and hope that site doesn’t go down either.

It just sucks, man

True that, as much as I understand why Webtoons is gutting programs like DailyPass (capitalism gonna capitalism) it doesn't make it any less restrictive and frustrating especially when it comes to media preservation / ownership.

In that way, Webtoons' business model is contradictory to the nature and spirit of webcomics, which have always typically been free to read / free to access and made by indie creators as a side project / hobby / etc. (and that's pretty much why WT is struggling so hard to profit off them, because the Western demographic is accustomed to getting webcomics for free).

Making comics is also a LOT of work though, and so it's not unreasonable at all for creators to try and monetize their work in some way, whether it's through Patreon or ads or selling physical books. But there's such a fine line between supporting creators and exploiting audiences, and Webtoons has definitely crossed that line on more than one occasion.

I don't think people would hate AdPass/paying with coins so much if we knew exactly how much creators were getting on the backend - not necessarily specific numbers, just split percentages or something to that degree - but unfortunately WT has the ability to control at least half the narrative through their NDA's that prevent creators from speaking out about those details.

At the very least, it's good that it's become pretty common knowledge now - thanks to the few creators who have stepped forward and risked their jobs to share information about what they earn and/or what they put up with - that Webtoons is exploitative, it means people are more aware of these issue. But unfortunately, it's creators who get caught in the crossfire whenever readers rightfully want to boycott the platform or read pirated works because they were put behind extra barriers just because they're completed - because creators are the ones who lose out on the extra income and the viewing metrics which Webtoons uses to determine whether or not they keep their jobs.

It's a trap that Webtoons has deliberately placed within the webcomics scene, and it's probably the one thing they've succeeded at the most over the years, by creating this system that creators and readers alike struggle to escape from because it inevitably means someone has to lose a leg.

So yeah, fuck you Webtoons.

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

☆ A Clueless Child & An Even More Clueless DJD

scenario: a group of psychopaths unwittingly become parents to an abandoned newly built found under mysterious circumstance

note: i also wanted to add that this fic not only centers around reader but also the DJD as a crew, like their dynamics and stuff. mostly because there's such little content about them as a crew and the DJD are my favourite Decepticon sub-faction.

prev: part one next: -----

PARENTS MENTORS IN DENIAL 02

summary: breaking the news to their already stressed out medic, in short, how they decide to adopt you

“They'll be awake within an arc, tops.” Nickel sighs out as she exits the medbay to see the team and they're waiting right outside— Vos sits down on the floor as Kaon, Tesarus and Helex lean on the wall; Tarn stands straight, looking somewhat impatient but it's hard to tell with the mask. It looks like The Pet noticed the commotion and decided to join in from whatever demonic activities that spawn of Mortilius was busy with when everyone else was minding their own business… laying down right by Kaon as he pets it gently. Thankfully, it seems to be very docile right now, tired maybe; its optics looked heavy as if it were going into recharge from Kaon’s gentle ministrations. Maybe Kaon hadn't fuelled the thing yet… They didn't take The Pet with them to Clemency, purely because they did not want The Pet to be anywhere near corpses and that place was basically a graveyard.

Nickel has to stop herself from gagging (she didn't even know she could) at the thought of how she had to get rid of a nasty rust infection the last time that happened with The Pet. Regardless, right now there were more pressing matters than that monstrosity.

The expert medic is done with her world class repairs (rated by Tarn himself), dusting off her servos as all five now wait outside the medbay. She feels somewhat… disturbed if anything. Odd considering she's been with the DJD for a long time now, long enough for such feelings to be usual but… From her examination, she could tell the sparkling was merely a few human months or so old. The wiring within its chassis was not worn or torn in the slightest, the interior of its frame was in relatively pristine condition, especially compared to some of her teammates.

And from the damage on the poor thing’s frame, she could tell that it had been on Clemency for a couple of months. The rust flakes and dried up energon solidified in the crevices of their frame's exterior, the result of a filthy environment. They were absolutely dirty, no wonder why Tarn hesitated to hold the little one himself. She ran a system diagnostic just in case for any chances of a virus affecting its programming only to find out they never had its firewall updated, ever. That… concerned her deeply.

It meant that someone had quite literally dumped this sorry sparkling into Clemency right after it was made. All by itself. All alone. New life left without guidance or resources in a planet ridden with Decepticon corpses. It was a harrowing thought. How did it survive? Who would do that? Why would they do that? What sort of sick frag does something like that?

Maybe they should run the little one’s serial number in their systems to check. Then they'd have some sort of information regarding this mystery, she makes a mental note to ask Tarn but knowing him, there's a high chance he already did so.

The situation of the sparkling is rather mysterious and dire, Nickel couldn't help but wonder what they had to go through to end up so battered… so young and frail. She knocks the thought out of her helm as soon as it enters, she has a couple of idiots to address right now.

“Now, there’s a few good things but there's bad news with it.” Nickel cranes her helm to look up at the five behemoths before her. The minibot is used to the pain in her neck supports at this point, craning her way to see their faceplates. All of their EM fields radiate curiosity and a strange sense of worry, anxiousness almost. It's not the typical aura but again, this situation was far from typical on The Peaceful Tyranny.

“Go on with the good news first.” Tarn commanded, he convinced himself that he cares little to nothing about the sparkling, he only cared because it was one of them. The anticipation from them all builds up tension at the moment.

“Okay, so the newly-built is fine, physically. Their motor systems are intact. At best, their stabilizers might feel sore. They can move fine. The large dent in their chassis from the compression is fixed. Vents are all cleared.” Nickel announces, there's an odd sense of relief in the faces of the DJD. A few sighs escaping some of them. Though, Tarn remains ambiguous, solely due to the mask.

“...what about the bad news?” Helex asks, not as relieved as the rest yet. Though his faceplates do not betray him, upholding up that ideal Decepticon stoicism his position required him to display. Tarn leans down a bit to relieve Nickel, considerate to the minibot and the others were leaning on the wall quickly follow suit but it merely serves to piss Nickel off, it felt somewhat insulting. She grimaces with annoyance but pushes aside her feelings for now as she continues with the sparkling. Her neck supports do feel a little better now that she doesn't have to crane half as much to the crouched down mechs so she's somewhat grateful. Not like she's going to comment on it.

“Well, the kids got a few firewall breaches. I've updated their programming for the most part so it shouldn't have too much of an impact. But most importantly, their vocalizer is glitched out. It'll take a while for them to talk.” Nickel huffs out in layman's terms, conveniently leaving out the fact that there's a solid chance the sparkling didn't know how to talk. If her hunches about the little thing being all alone for most, maybe even all their miserable life was true then it's most likely that their speech-development process was stagnant. Isolation at such delicate stages of life can repress speech protocols, it isn't unheard of. Cybertronian systems did throw out unused code. Unless the kid was talking to corpses and if that was the case, at least they'll get along well with the DJD.

“...so we can't interrogate.” Kaon mutters, inconsiderate to whatever sufferings the sparkling may have suffered. Looks like he and Vos will have to muse themselves with nothing more than their wild theories. So many unanswered questions about their mysterious little house guest.

“Like Pit you can, I suggest you don't speak of Clemency to them, at all.” Nickel mutters, whatever they endured on Clemency had to have been nothing short of traumatic. It would be best to not mention it at all, for a while at least. Kaon nods begrudgingly in compliance, though it's Vos’ compliance that Nickel truly sought. That little aft was as cavalier as they came.

"Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅ l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅk̵̘̺̦͉͖̪̪͖͉͊̆̔́̈́̍̃̈́͒̂̑̀̚͜͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ ǎ̴̯̀͠ s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅt̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅt̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠?"

Vos asks, helm slightly tilted to the side in curiosity as he remains seated on the floor. Even then, he's taller than Nickel.

"Somewhat." She mutters. The newly built will without a doubt have some sort of issue, though it's a little too early to tell. But now, she could finally ask what she'd been thinking the whole time she had been working on the little one as none of the others seemed to have any questions.

“More importantly, what are you planning on doing with ‘em?” Nickel questions their course of action, raising an optical ridge, her tiny servos on her hipstruts as she waits for an answer.

All of them are looking right at Tarn, of course Tarn has to be the one to say this to Nickel but a part of him wishes he didn't have to. But in the end, he's their leader and he can't disappoint their hopeful faces. As their leader, he has to be the one to hear a mouthful from Nickel. With a heavy sigh, he decides to break the news to her, she won't take it too badly… Hopefully.

“We are going to keep… it.” Tarn says, his velvety voice lacking its usual confidence, as if he himself isn't sure about it. Nickel’s azure optics widen into dinner plates. The servos on her hipstruts immediately falling to her sides.

“...come at me again?” She asks, there's no fragging way. The minibot had to make sure what she heard was right, she had to make sure her audios didn't just glitch out or something. Tarn just grunts a little, somewhat annoyed at having to repeat himself.

“I said, we are going to keep the sparkling.” Tarn repeats himself, his voice with a more aggressive and stern edge though Nickel remains somewhat unfazed by it purely because of how utterly shocking that declaration was. He hadn't used ‘The Voice’, perhaps that's why it lacked the usual immediate response.

“So then… we're… going to fraggin'… co-parent? All six of us? Adopt? Or like… is it just your own?” Nickel speaks up what she felt it was like, astonishment on her faceplates and her usually aggressive tone somewhat softer. The following immediate aversion to the term ‘parent’ was almost comical and would've gotten a good laugh out of anyone watching; Vos looked down at the floor almost immediately, Helex just gave out a tired heavy ex-vent, Tesarus’ derma pursed into a thin line as one of his servos rests on the back of his neck supports, Kaon clenched his jaw hinges a bit from cringing as if he was trying not to recoil away and Tarn… Tarn just leaned back for a moment, baffled beneath his mask. Vos mutters something incoherent in Primal Vernacular.

Parenting or well, mentoring as it is usually called is not a very open-discussion subject, sensitive if anything. It wasn't exactly something mechs like them would ever partake in or even see themselves take part in. Not to mention, most of them likely didn't have the luxury of tender parenting back on Pre-War Cybertron. It isn't very common to raise sparklings; whether it was before the war given the economic situation or now, given there is currently a fragging planet tearing, genocidal war waging on in full force.

It sort of… did sound like parenting now that Tarn thought about it but as much as he wanted to deny it… It was literally what they were doing. They were basically adopting. The leader of the DJD quickly recomposed himself, clearing his vocalizer. Embarrassingly enough, Tarn realizes the sheer improvidence of his decision. He couldn't be blamed either, this wasn't the sort of thing he's dealt with. He’s done heists with Orion Pax, lived as a fugitive in the Jhaxian Academy, worked as a warden in one of the worst prison camps on Cybertron… none of the aforementioned activities had ever brought him near something even remotely close to parenting. He would never take in a sparkling then or now, mostly because he didn't know the first thing on what to do with one but he would never admit that. He'd be damned if he had to take care of one by himself.

“No… No, no, no, no! Dear Nickel, that is not what we intend to do-” Tarn gives out a wry chuckle, a thin veil for his clear uncertainty only to be interrupted by the understandably skeptical minibot. From his tone, it's evident he intended this to be a group project which makes Vos mutter even more incoherent curses in Primal Vernacular.

“Then what the frag are we going to do with ‘em?” Nickel questions, tone as confused as ever. Tarn can feel the weight of everyone's optics locked on him and for the first time, he genuinely finds it suffocating.

“We are merely going to… guide the sparkling in its… Decepticon heritage. A future soldier.” He struggles to word it properly, to word it in a manner where it doesn't make it look like anything parenting related but fails in his desperation. In short; bullshitting his way through this. Tarn is more than well aware that's basically a part of parenting but he sincerely hopes by the name of Megatron that for once, his team is stupid enough to just leave it at that. Tarn is not a parent. His fearsome team are not parents either. Parenting is soft. He is anything but soft and The same goes for his team.

“...isn't that basically-” Helex hushes Tesarus with a glare before he could mumble the rest out, more than well aware that their leader is not exactly in a very good state of mind. Helex was quiet and so it paid him well. The signs of Tarn’s annoyance was something the crew had learnt; navigating through his outbursts and tantrums. The daggers Tarn stares at Tesarus is enough to make the walking talking shredder realise he would be making a mistake if he went on, going mum as he looks away in obvious fear of his Commanding Officer.

“I expect everyone to cooperate.” Tarn adds on to their dismay and from the painfully fake cheeriness in his tone, they could all tell he was not going to allow anyone to back off from this. The atmosphere is suddenly gloomy now.

So basically, they were going to be caretakers. Whether they liked it or not.

…yay.

The room is eerily silent now. Nickel feels it's unfair that she's roped into this. Vos is less than pleased for more than obvious reasons, Tesarus is not sure on what to feel, Kaon is conflicted, Helex continues to pretend to be nonchalant and quiet though he’s also pretty skeptical about this. Even Tarn himself is uncertain despite how he makes it seem. All of their EM fields are a fix of confusion, uncertainty, bitterness and trepidation however, they manage to keep it to themselves.

“Okay… but does any of you even know how to manage one?” Nickel asks, carefully picking her words. Anything that showcases softness might only rile Tarn up even more, avoiding the specific phrase ‘taking care of’ for her own sake.

Tarn again goes silent, looking at Nickel. Finally, a question he actually saw coming. A slight sheepishness behind his mask, concealed skilfully from his team who fails to see this as they surmise Tarn is in a terrible mood which he honestly somewhat was beginning to get there with this whole sparkling thing…

“Well, I-... We were wondering if you would have some pointers.”

They're all looking down at the minibot with hope, except maybe Vos who still partially feels like they should just throw the little thing away into a landfill or something. A lot more economically feasible during wartime in his humble opinion. Tarn has a rather smug smile behind his mask though his body language tries to make it look like he's pleading.

"You guys think just because I'm a medic, I know a slaggin' thing about sparklings!?!?!?"

There's the expected outburst Tarn also saw coming a mile away. Vos continues to merely sit there, taking slight sadistic amusement in Nickel's frustration as he lets out a quiet dry chuckle, trying to be discreet in his attempt to mock the medic; he did not want to be her subject of tirade. Vos almost immediately stops when he sees Nickel glaring at him with a stare that could burn through ununtrium, pretending to clear his vocalizer as if he wasn't secretly getting a good laugh out of this.

"...Yes." So simple, straightforward, direct and eloquent; Tarn did hesitate but truly, what else could he have said? Nickel's helm immediately snaps back to Tarn's direction, she looks like how an Autobot would look like if Megatron got the Matrix of Leadership. As if she were about to explode from frustration and shock. The entire team prepares themselves to hear an explosive rant from Nickel, coloured with crass vocabulary and insecurity inducing takes. But to their pleasant surprise, she just... let's out a very deep ex-vent, a genuinely frustrated sigh. Of course she has to be the one to handle this mess… she always has to clean their messes… why do they burden her like this??? Inconsiderate slagging pieces of- She just looks down for a moment to calm herself and back at the DJD.

“...unbelievable. All of you.”

[byeolyeons]

the lovesick series | l.hc

pairing: lee haechan (nct) x gn! reader genre: domestic fluff, wc: ~2k summary: congrats! you and haechan have finally moved in together. unfortunately for him, he's got i-miss-you disease.

loving haechan is light. floorboards creaking in my home  deathly silence when alone  oh, i wish that you were here right now 

it had only been some hours since the early morning when you had left donghyuck's apartment, and yet when he pulls himself out of bed to brew a cup of coffee he finds the quiet thrum of traffic outside to be more unsettling than he expected. no sounds of that new anime you were keeping up with, no beeping of the kettle used to boil hot water for your tea, and no screaming at the game he had bought you just last week. 

he had finally given you a key and allowed you full access to his home, but the fuzzy feelings of sharing a living space for the first time were currently being overshadowed by your class and work schedules having you out most of the day. especially when his own schedule just wouldn't align, further complicating the matter. donghyuck moves to sit down on the couch, leaning forward to place his mug on the table in front of him. it's one you painted for him on an earlier date, covered in a soft yellow and adorned with a cute little bear. 

the wood of the floor groans under the weight of his left leg, the sound seeming louder than usual in the silence. he frowns. his place was by no means new, what with the student-on-a-budget deal, but it wasn't particularly worn down either. just another thing to add to the already long list of problems, donghyuck thinks. he'd definitely have to call it into the landlord later. 

pulling his phone from his pocket, donghyuck opts to scroll through his instagram feed. some stories in, one from you pops up. it's a video of him from last night, taken from behind on the very couch he's currently parked in. in it he can hear his own laughter, yelling at you due to the difficulty setting of the game being purposely cranked up so as to thwart him. there was an attempt, the caption reads, to which donghyuck chuckles. 

the coffee has long gone cold when he reaches for it again, the taste now unbearably bitter. donghyuck's expression furrows, and to some extent he can understand why you don't enjoy the pressed beans as much as he does. he sighs and his arm falls to his side. would anything not remind him of you right now? 

despite how much his heart yearns, begs him to dial the string of numbers now ingrained into the cells of his very fingertips, donghyuck is well aware that you probably wouldn't appreciate being called up in the middle of a lecture. so he resigns himself to tidying up around the room, taking care of the menial housekeeping tasks so you would at least have a clean space to return to. less mess, less stress. 

-

donghyuck curses himself when he wakes up from his post-cleaning nap to a few texts and a missed call from his beloved. 

4:37pm:

yo

what do u want from this place for dinner 

5:15pm:

hurry renjuns treating 

5:19pm

u suck

he shoots a quick message back, adding in a selfie of him still tucked into his sheets for good measure. if there's one thing you can't resist, it's when he softens himself for you. 

5:21pm

sorry my beloved i was napping 

donghyuck sighs and tosses the phone aside, getting up to start setting the table for your meal tonight. as he lays out the utensils, he finally hears the sound he's been waiting for all day. the pinlocks in the front door click, signalling your presence. the plates clatter from the abruptness of the silverware being dropped unceremoniously on top, the person having held them just seconds prior forgetting all about them. 

"i'm h—" you aren't even able to eke out the entire sentence before a large fuzzy bundle comes up and entirely envelopes you. the food nearly becomes the second victim of donghyuck's sudden assault. "careful of the bag!!" the bundle finally relents, head poking out of the blankets and looking at you with sparkling puppy dog eyes. 

"i missed you." it's a simple statement, and based on how it lacks his usual shit-eating grin you can tell he must've had a relatively uneventful day. so much for being off, i guess. unsure of how to respond right away you set the plastic bag to the side, the spot you can just barely reach on account of his tight grip, and quietly squeeze him back. the scent of his, no, your detergent now, is gentle on your nose. he smells like indubitably like home. 

"i missed you too. let's enjoy that-" you gesture at the sad little bag on the floor. "before it gets cold, yeah?" you can feel donghyuck nodding at your words by the way the fabric shifts against the side of your head, and he shuffles you both the few steps from your position so he can pick it up. seeing what's inside, he very visibly lights up. 

"this is... lowkey perfect for what i had in mind. wait here!" donghyuck breaks free from your hold, taking the initiative to whisk the food away. the blanket that enveloped you two gets tossed to the floor in front of the couch. you hear the chaos of him wrestling the cardboard take out boxes open, ceramic plate clinking, then the unmistakable beeps of the microwave before his head pops out from the kitchenette. "okay, come on in!" 

when you shuffle into the connected dining space, the first thing you notice is the lit candles that have been meticulously arranged on the table. they vary greatly in size, forming trios that frame a spaghetti filled dish in the center. two placemats and full cutlery sets sit side by side each other, testament to donghyuck's clinginess that had only gotten worse with your moving in. said donghyuck speeds over to a chair before you can even touch it, pulling it out for you to sit down. 

"m'lady." he teases, bunny teeth poking out in a smile. 

you laugh, slapping his shoulder. "thanks, milord." it's only after readjusting yourself in your seat that you notice a distinct lack of actual plates in front of you. there are only forks and knives, and a glasses for whatever drink you'll end up choosing. "hyuck," you call. "where are the plates?" 

turning your head, donghyuck is nowhere to be seen until suddenly he's making his way toward you from the living room hallway, playfully eyeing you up. when he had the time to move between the kitchenette and there, you have no clue. the smart bulbs dim, turning a warm yellowey-orange courtesy of the remote you know he's hiding in his pocket. "oh my, it seems i’ve broken them all. that's the last one we have… looks like we'll just have to share from that bowl!" 

sometimes, this man is just unbelievable. not wanting to ruin the little setup he has going on, however, you decide to play along and put a pout on your face. "damn... and i had so much fun picking them out when we went to ikea too. they were my favorite." knowing you, donghyuck is also well aware you're messing with him. but something about your faux sadness coupled with the way you look at him tugs at his heartstrings just the right way, and he can't help but cave. 

he pouts back. "is it so wrong to want to share a big ass bowl of pasta with my love, lady and the tramp style? wouldn't it be romantic to share a kiss over a noodle?" at the mention of the iconic scene he sighs dramatically, leaning against the table right next to you and draping the back of his hand over his forehead. you take his other hand in your own and lightly rub it with your thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles and looking innocently up at him. 

"okay, okay, there's your kiss. can we eat now? i know you probably haven't had anything besides coffee, and i'm hungry too." your show of affection seems to have the intended effect, as donghyuck immediately shuts up and seats himself at your side, pulling the "big ass bowl" to an appropriate distance in front of you both. "jeno recommended this place, so renjun used a company card to cover everyone's orders." you explain.

on a bad day, donghyuck might’ve raised an inquiry about your coworkers. but this is no bad day, far from it, and he knows better than to doubt the relationships you have with his friends. 

after twirling some of the noodles onto the fork and putting a bite in your mouth, a hand flies up to your cheek. you emit a sigh, noises fully content from just how good the food is. at this point, the man next to you hasn't made any sort of effort to shovel the pasta down the hatch like he normally might have. he simply looks at you with an unreadable expression plastered across his face, elbow propped up on the table and head resting in his hand. "are you okay? here, have some." 

you take up another forkful and offer it to donghyuck's lips, but he doesn't accept it right away. "thank you for being here. with me." the change in his teasing attitude from earlier is unsettling, but not uncomfortable. 

"it's not like i have anywhere else to come home to, you know. i do live here too." you joke, but it isn't met with donghyuck's typical banter. turning to him, you awkwardly cough when you see him staring right into your very core. "hyuck, you're scaring—"

he cuts you off, blurting his next words out. "i mean it. thank you for everything." the hand that isn't keeping his chin up reaches up to gently brush the side of your face, holding it with a tenderness that makes you melt into his touch. his thumb rubs at your cheek. "for bringing me food all the time. for moving in with me. for making my life so much better. everything just feels right having you here." you return the loving smile he aims at you, like a weapon of mass destruction. he could so easily destroy you with it. 

"there's no one else i'd rather share that kind of life of with." 

bonus:

it seems like donghyuck's returned to his normal self following your heartfelt exchange, and the heavy atmosphere has all but lifted. 

"say ahh!" your silly hyuck carefully feeds you some of the spaghetti, one of the noodles slipping off the fork. while you try to reel the rogue in, he uses his thumb to wipe away the excess sauce that finds its way onto the corners of your mouth. you're still unsuccessful in nabbing the whole thing when he takes a bite himself. though you don't immediately pick up on it, donghyuck ends up facing the same problem as you. 

more silence pervades the room as you two go to work on the pasta, and after about half a minute you want to punch the man in front of you in the throat because there's no way in hell he didn't do this shit on purpose. a single strand of spaghetti currently connects your lips, just as donghyuck had insinuated minutes prior. he makes a muffled noise of disbelief, as if he's appalled you're blaming him, but he doesn't let go of the noodle.  

rather, he quickly chews it up, closing the distance between you and him and giving you a small peck. his attention then shifts back to the food as if nothing had happened. you can feel yourself heating up out of embarrassment, cheeks glowing.

"HYUCK!"

as always, thank you for reading !! likes are nice, but comments and fellow brainrotting are always welcome :>

[16archive]

"london knights thrilled to see mitch marner return to no. 93 in vegas"

"'he'll be great,' [mark hunter,] the former toronto maple leafs assistant gm and current gm of the memorial cup champion london knights said thursday. 'he's a very good player. he's ready to go.' ... mark hunter always has been in marner's corner. he selected the talented forward to london with the no. 19 pick in the 2013 ohl draft, then announced him as the no. 4 overall pick in the nhl draft two years later while hunter was with toronto."

"'I think it's something special mitch is going back to no. 93,' [long-time knights equipment manager chris] maton said. 'I love it. I told him it's pretty cool. I don't know about honouring the knights, but it's a remembering-his-roots kind of thing. he was good in junior and wore 93.'"

"marner is the odds-on favourite to become the next knight to have his banner raised to the canada life place rafters."

full transcript under the cut

mark hunter has a prediction for mitch marner's new vegas journey.

"he'll be great," the former toronto maple leafs assistant gm and current gm of the memorial cup champion london knights said thursday. "he's a very good player. he's ready to go."

and how will he do with the golden knights the next time they reach the stanley cup playoffs?

"he'll play fine," hunter said.

mark hunter always has been in marner's corner. he selected the talented forward to london with the no. 19 pick in the 2013 ohl draft, then announced him as the no. 4 overall pick in the nhl draft two years later while hunter was with toronto.

marner led london to a memorial cup title in 2016 and no one in the city will be surprised he switched back to his famous no. 93 now that he is in sin city.

"it's a jersey that I wore with the london knights there for three years and had great success with it," the 28-year-old said at his introductory news conference this week, "and really enjoyed the number."

marner spoke with long-time knights equipment manager chris maton this week and told him he would be making the jersey switch from his no. 16 with the leafs.

"I think it's something special mitch is going back to no. 93," maton said. "I love it. I told him it's pretty cool. I don't know about honouring the knights, but it's a remembering-his-roots kind of thing. he was good in junior and wore 93. he obviously couldn't wear it in toronto (because the leafs retired it for doug gilmour in 2009) or he would have."

marner is the odds-on favourite to become the next knight to have his banner raised to the canada life place rafters. maton revealed the knights have a process where they hold a number out of rotation for a few seasons right after a legendary player has worn it.

"we like to give it a break for a couple of years," he said. "then, we'll reactivate it, but we do give it a break for a bit. you always like to give kids their first go at a preferred number and try to accommodate them (if it's not already retired)."

marner wanted no. 93 in london because of gilmour. he has long said that he was his father paul marner's favourite leaf and he came to appreciate the same through watching old highlights.

"he was bound and bent he was going to wear no. 93 here," maton said. "it was pretty funny. there wasn't much changing his mind, that's for sure."

there is a lot of superstition and comfort that goes along with wearing a preferred number. very few knights expressed no preference, although their hall of fame-worthy coach settled on an assigned number at the start of his long nhl career.

"dale (hunter) wore no. 32 because that's what the nordiques gave him at training camp," maton recalled. "when they decided to keep him, they asked what number he wanted and he told them, 'well, you gave me this one, so I'll stay with it.'"

he did for 1,407 games with stops in quebec, washington and colorado.

[pagesofkenna]

this chapter made me so emo about Keiichi. I still don't really get what his deal is but for him to start out as a bully and a petty rival, and then this??

boy loves his hometown so much that he literally has no greater ambition than to live and die in it. meanwhile his brother has his sights on the NHL; Rou is aiming for the Olympics. is it heartwarming that Keiichi treasures his home so much that he can't see anything beyond it, or sad that he has hundreds of photos of the same factory smokestack that he's already planning to die staring at??

I don't know. but Noda could have easily made Keiichi the hotshot rival who thinks he deserves the best in the world, but instead he made Keiichi a big fish dreaming only of his small pond.

(from Dogsred ch. 28)

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

no one FREAKING understands jo march and friedrich bhaer the way i do

[anneapocalypse]

Very true, and I agree that Unukalhai's relationship with Elidibus is a dropped thread. It does feel like once he makes the decision to tell the Scions his story and join them officially, his mentorship with Elidibus is implicitly over but with no real closure or even really a clear picture of how that relationship ended.

I've spent a lot of time in recent months with the Heavensward patch content, both the Warriors of Darkness storyline in MSQ and the Warring Triad, and it's a place where I really feel the limitations of the game format, because these two stories clearly intersect, with both Elidibus and Urianger being heavily involved in both--but by nature of one of them being optional content, they can only vaguely refer to one another. There are a few deeply tantatlizing intersections, such as in the Great Gubal Library cutscene where Elidibus refers to "the Triad" in front of Ardbert, and the great irony of Urianger's urging Unukalhai to trust the Scions with the truth all while he himself is not doing that, and Y'shtola's line needling him about that irony which takes on different meanings depending on whether you play through it before or after "One Life for One World."

Elidibus has his fingers in a lot of pies in Heavensward, not limited to these two--he's also been manipulating both the Archbishop, and the Ala Mhigan resistance through the Griffin. Of particular interest to me is the fact that Elidibus apparently introduces both Ardbert & co. and Unukalhai to Urianger, while seemingly keeping them from one another. Did he explicitly instruct Urianger to keep them apart? Did Urianger make that choice himself? Who knows! I have my own guesses and headcanons, but because WT is so siloed, we're never told.

While it's not a definitive answer, my own theory at present is that Unukalhai was Elidibus's failsafe on the Source. The number one thing we definitively hear about Elidibus, over and over again, is that he took responsibility for maintaining the balance of Light and Darkness in the Source, something that was very necessary for all the Rejoinings to occur. And we know how delicate the balance was and how precise it needed to be in order for dimensional compression to occur, with the Thirteenth as our example of a botched attempt, and the First as an example of a world teetering on the edge of both possibilities.

The thing about Ardbert & co. and Unukalhai is that based on what they both tell us, they're working at cross-purposes. Ardbert & co. are attempting to cause a Calamity in the Source to rejoin the First because they believe their world is already lost and the best they can hope for is to pour those souls back into the aetherial sea to be reborn so they aren't stuck in Light stasis forever. Unukalhai, meanwhile, declares his intent to save the Source from Calamity. And despite the siloing of these storylines, they touch one another just enough that the writers of one had to be aware of what the writers of the other were up to. With that, plus Elidibus's known goals and his skill at manipulation, I don't think this is a contradiction. I think both, like Thordan and Ilberd, were strings that Elidibus could pull as needed in order to adjust the balance of Light and Darkness.

So why does he just let Unukalhai go, in the end, with no fanfare? Your guess is really as good as mine, and it would be really cool if we had more explicit canon on this. I have a guess, though, that this is one of those implications that sort of gets lost in older content when it's played out of release order. "The Last Pillar to Fall" was released close to the end of the Heavensward patch cycle, in 3.5--the same patch in which the Scions confront and defeat Ilberd, another of Elidibus's pawns, atop Baelsar's Wall.

So I think the implication here is that the Scions have in one way or another, taken out all the major pieces Elidibus had on the board in Heavensward. Thordan and Ilberd are dead, Ardbert & co. have returned to their world with Minfilia as Hydaelyn's emissary (whom Elidibus notes that he shall watch with great interest). I think it's possible that at this point, Unukalhai has played the role Elidibus set him up for, and simply is no longer needed. After that point Elidibus seems to turn his attention to Garlemald and to Zenos.

Nonetheless, you're right that we never get to hear how Unukalhai feels about that, what he thinks of his old master after the fact, or even whether Elidibus might have made any attempt to contact him after he joined the Scions (which would be so interesting). The ending of WT focuses much more on Unukalhai's growing relationship to the Scions--and as subtext, on all the parallels between him and Urianger in the patch stories as a whole. It's touching for what it is, but it does leave a pretty big gap.

For all these reasons, it is somewhat unfortunate that Unukalhai's story (and also Cylva's) were told and will probably forever exist as optional content, because it's actually deeply sad to see Unukalhai forge all these new friendships with the Scions... and then spend the next two expacs standing alone in the Solar, unconnected to the story in any way. I was so happy when he got to make a small return in Shadowbringers! but you're right. It's a crumb. And it's sad that he'll probably never have more. I can only imagine that when Heavensward was being written, no one had yet conceived of Shadowbringers' story as a thing, nevermind a potential future Void expac--something I'd dearly love to get, but at the same time, unless they pull some kind of Crystal Tower situation again and make WT mandatory content, the role that Unukalhai (never mind Cylva) could play in any future MSQ is severely limited. And that's sad, full stop. It was sad not to see them mentioned at all in the Endwalker patches which centered so much around the Void.

And I can't help but wonder if having written themselves into that kind of corner is part of the reason that as of Endwalker we don't get a trial series as side content anymore, but instead get trials as part of patch MSQ. Idk, it's kind of an unfortunate side effect of the MMO format that optional content can cause so many problems for future writing by being too good! A side effect I don't have a good solution for.

Anyway that was a long tangent, thank you for reading all that, and for raising the point!

Have a Heavensward-era Urianger Smile. 💜

I love the Warring Triad quests so much.

[uncanny-tranny]

When I find it hard to do certain things, I like to pretend I am a neanderthal living in a cave with my clan, and I must do The Thing in order to survive.

So, when I'm doing cardio at the gym, I'm actually chasing and tracking a mammoth, and when I need to cook, well, I'm not cooking on a stove top, I am hurdled over the first fire and watching the fat of our kill drip down onto the burning wood. And when I find it hard to crochet, I pretend that the first winter storm is coming and our clan needs me to make blankets to hurdle under and that I must contribute.

I hope whatever you do to do The Things will help. It is a uniquely personable trait to motivate yourself through pretend and stories. That's what makes this life interesting - that's what makes you feel larger than yourself 💛

[tj-crochets]

Hey! This might be a weird ask, but do you know anywhere that has Cambrian sewing patterns? I’ve been trying to track down a wiwaxia or anomalocaris, but no joy. Thanks in advance!

Hey! Not a weird ask at all, and I swear I've seen one for an anomalocaris before but I can't remember where?? I'll take a look and see what I can find, and hopefully someone will see this that has a link to a pattern Edit: So good news bad news, I did find the anomalocaris plush I was thinking of, but the designer has not shared the pattern. Good news is it looks really simple to design a pattern for a simplified version of it? I'd just need to handstitch on the curved front...not legs and use the same technique I use to make spider legs without having to sew each leg individually (topstitching, but maybe also pleating) Can you reblog this with some reference photos of anomalocaris? anomalocarises? I do not know enough about them to be able to distinguish which ones are good references

[kjzx]

I've been playing slitherio these past few days, and after some time messing around with nicknames and my own experience with the stuff, I've realized anger is something very easy to weaponize. On my second attempt of having "trans rights" as a nickname I killed a huge ~5k point worm as a teenie tiny 200 point worm simply because it was so desperate to kill me specifically. Anger makes your life harder, but it also makes people really unwise. I fucking bet this is in "the art of war", even though I haven't read it.

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

fascinating revelations out of my dad's professional coaching of the whole family today

my mom scored astonishingly high on empathy and caring for a woman who seemed to find it next to impossible to express that to me

my dad has done an insane amount of work to be so warm and personable considering that his natural inclination is towards strong reserve rooted in anxiety (just like me!!)

my sister shocked - SHOCKED 🙄 - to learn that she scores almost zero in empathy AND very high on manipulation

actually shocking reveal that my sister always knew she was my mom's favorite. like I kind of assumed she was mean to both of us but apparently most of the biting comments were for me

[stepfordgoth]

Honestly shout out to anyone who started following me before March 2020 and is still following me to this day, you're the real ones. I just did a bit of thinking and realized that the Covid era really did change/kill/fuck up just about everything for me and put me on a hamster wheel of misery that I'm only now crawling out of. Like obviously I can't blame it all on Covid because lots of things I experienced as part of that hamster wheel were results of my own decision making but honestly when the Covid lockdowns hit I instantly lost my job and also could no longer take my yoga classes multiple times a week..... So not only did I suddenly lose my source of income and the exercise routine that I'd spent years building (which is probably enough to make anyone depressed on its own), I also lost every social outlet with real people off the internet that I had at the time (other than my husband). On top of that, when everything shut down I was already dealing with a "breakup" with my former best friend of a decade that happened two weeks before then (Feb 2020, completely unrelated to Covid), which absolutely broke my heart. So I literally didn't have anyone other than my husband. So when the shutdown hit I felt incredibly lonely and disoriented. And then eventually I started to feel angry. And I think it all snowballed down from there.

My point is, if you've been following me for more than 5 years now you very likely have seen me at my worst and (unless you're hate-following me for some reason lol) I appreciate that you've stuck with me for so long even after watching me spiral into briefly becoming an angry, bitter, fat, day drinking loser bitch. Lol. I'm heading back upwards finally I think. 🩷

[nuttersincorporated]

The Narrator wanted to found Omelas and the Contrarian would choose to walk away

There is a short story by Ursula K. Le Guin called ‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas’. You can read it here or listen to it here.

The basic summery is that Omelas is a wonderful city. People are happy, kind and intelligent. The arts and science are celebrated and people can pursue their passions. There are no kings, police or army because they aren’t needed.

However, for all this to work, one child is locked in a basement. They are frightened, abused and underfed. Everyone knows that the child is there and they all accept it. The child must suffer so that everyone else can be happy.

If the child leaves the basement or is ever shown any kindness at all, then the good fortune and happiness of everyone in Omelas ends. Omelas would become like any other city. Instead of one child suffering and everyone else being happy, most of the population would suffer so that – like in the real world – 1% of people could have their every whim satisfied.

Everyone in Omelas knows that the child is there. A lot of them go to see the child but even those that don’t know the child suffers for them to be happy.

Sometimes, someone in Omelas will go quiet for a few days before they leave Omelas forever. Where they go to no one knows, it is a place even less imaginable than Omelas.

Anyway, the point of all this is that the Narrator is trying to turn the universe into Omelas. One person has to suffer so that everyone else can be happy. Unlike the child in the original story, the Princess wouldn’t even have to suffer for very long. She would die and then everyone else would be saved.

I think the Contrarian would be one of the people that walk away from Omelas. He thinks everything is all fun and games and enjoys annoy people. However, the moment he realises that his actions have actual consequences and that the Princess is being hurt by them, he stops and wants to help.

I think, if he was in Omelas, since he couldn’t save the child, he would choose to leave rather than be part of the reason the child has to suffer. For the same reason, if he had to slay the Princess to ensure everyone else’s happiness or save her a damn everyone else, I think he’d choose to leave. Even if he can’t save her, he wouldn’t want to be one of the people she had to suffer for.