#but since it's not happening I combined it

[headspace-hotel]

Thoughtful selective breeding is obviously part of agriculture with both plants and animals. It is the responsible thing to do to not breed animals with known genetic diseases. Is this the same thing as eugenics in humans? After all, the same thing was suggested with humans that have genetic diseases.

I say that it is not, but before discussing that, I also say that most things eugenicists were concerned with, were not completely genetically determined, or genetically determined at all. Out of the things that were actually genetically determined, it was usually because of too many different genes for selection to be possible, and out of traits that did have simplistic associations with genes, it was arbitrary and biased to judge them as "good" or bad" traits.

The eugenics movement happened before we knew what DNA was. The exact mechanisms of how heredity worked were unknown. It was not possible to link a trait to a certain gene that could be detected in a person's DNA.

Eugenicists thought entire individuals were inferior or superior to others, and thought that an "inferior" individual would produce "inferior" children. In reality, children inherit thousands of distinct genes that each may or may not be expressed based upon the impacts of other genes and environmental factors. If genes truly were either "good" or "bad," each individual would have a combination of "good" and "bad" genes. But it would be impossible to tell by looking at outward characteristics whether an individual had certain "good" or "bad" genes, because not all of the genes would be expressed.

Even worse, if you selected an elite group of individuals you thought had "good" genes and made them reproduce only within themselves, "bad" genes you didn't know about would begin expressing, due to the gene pool becoming more similar. A smaller gene pool makes it more likely to inherit two copies of the same gene. With recessive genes, they are only expressed when there are two copies, meaning that generations of individuals can have ("carry") the gene without ever showing any effects. Until suddenly, two carriers have a child and that child happens to inherit the recessive copy from both parents, and out of nowhere, the gene starts having an effect. A lot of genetic diseases are like this.

(In this way, eugenics type thinking ironically contributes to genetic diseases, by assuming that restricted gene pools of only individuals that appear "superior" will reliably create offspring expressing the same "superior" traits.)

Of course, in all except a few scenarios (a high chance of breast cancer is probably bad), genes aren't inherently good or bad at all. Let's say you decided that tall people were genetically superior, and organized a club for tall people to get together and have tall kids. If you did this for generations and generations, your descendants might be able to become consistently extremely tall, but you would probably also find that being extremely tall could have negative effects in many situations. Tallness might be genetically linked to some positive things, but it would be just as likely to be genetically linked to negative things. If the tall people club was restricted from having children with people outside the club, eventually you would likely see a high incidence of genetic diseases being expressed due to inbreeding.

Animal breeding has been going on for millennia, but the preoccupation with "pure" breeds is much newer. Inbreeding has been practiced widely in development of breeds because that is basically the only way to quickly make sure the traits you want are consistently expressed in the offspring, but since there is no such thing as a "superior" animal, it's also a good way to accidentally perpetuate "bad" traits (such as a high risk of cancer) throughout an entire gene pool.

There is also the fact that whether genes are "good" or "bad" usually depends on the situation. There has been a MASSIVE loss of genetic diversity among livestock since the beginning of industrial farming, and this has been very bad because whenever something changes about farming--whether it's a new disease popping up, effects of climate change, or improved practices--genes that are helpful in the new state of affairs are hard to find, because so much diversity has been eliminated. You just don't know what impact a gene might have in the future. Imagine some kind of new virus emerges that cattle with a certain gene are particularly susceptible to. If your herd is genetically diverse, the incidence of the gene might be small, so you might only lose one or two cows. But if your herd is genetically similar, you might be losing half of your herd. Five minutes ago, those cows were the "best" cows! Not anymore.

Imagine how much more complicated it is with humans! Even within our lifetimes, different body types have become fashionable and "ideal" and different personality traits have become favored for the workplace. And we still haven't cracked the genetic basis of body type or personality, let alone the array of environmental factors that might contribute.

Ultimately the problem of eugenics is assuming that any entity "knows better" about whether someone should pass on their genes than the person themselves. Humans have the ability to understand genetic diseases and heredity for themselves, and choose to have children or not based upon their own judgment. Furthermore, humans have the ability to communicate their needs to other humans, understand disability in themselves and others, and care for disabled members of their own species, therefore optimal quality of life is possible.

It is hard to apply the concept of personal choice to other animals, since we can't give animals education on what actions can lead to or prevent reproduction or the ability to exercise choice in whether to reproduce. The reproductive biology of many of our domesticated species is such that they have an estrus cycle where they are driven to mate during the period of time when fertilization is possible. Humans do not have an estrus cycle and can engage or not engage in sex regardless of fertility. It is not a very good comparison.

I think sometimes people think eugenics is bad but its still true, like thinking that if people with certain traits have children it will change society for better or worse based upon what traits are promoted. I think its important to emphasize that eugenics is not only wrong morally it's also fake and stupid bullshit

Like eugenics was supposed to be based on the idea that "If it works with animals to select only the best ones to breed, why wouldn't it work with humans?"

well it doesn't work with animals, that's the thing. applying the eugenics ideas to domestic breeds of animals hasn't made better animals it's just made animals with more extreme expression of certain traits. turns out that when you decide which traits are the "best" and become obsessed with the genetic purity of the animals that have the "best" traits, you might well end up with some sad suffering creature like a Pug, or the Persian cats with the smashed faces that are in constant pain because their teeth and airways and brains are getting crushed by their skulls, or those meat chickens that grow so fast they can hardly even stand up after a few weeks old, or inbred race horses with tiny feet and fragile toothpick legs

like almost all traits are neither "good" or "bad" they're way more complex than that. a long tail or a long snout or a stubborn, independent personality can be good or bad depending on the situation. Who gets to decide what is a "good" trait or a "bad" trait? It's arbitrary and selecting for traits that are "good" in your opinion will often have both "good" and "bad" outcomes because the "good" and "bad" are part of each other and not separate its just part of being alive

Obviously oversimplifying everything but you get it. we did eugenics with dogs and how did that go? not very well

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Glory Hallelujah

Written for day 25 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Christmas & Glory Hole

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody Lives; Rockstar Eddie; Sex Clubs; Glory Holes; Blowjobs; Reunions

Notes: I did a poll to determine which prompt from the bingo card I should combine with the Christmas prompt of the holiday drabbles. Merry Dick-mas, you filthy heathens, I love all of you! ❤️

Eddie isn’t sure what the correct word for someone like him is. He’s been pondering it over four beers now, watching the bored-looking girl at the center of the room spin around her pole, but without any success. 

Pathetic springs to mind, but that isn't strong enough. There must be a stronger word than pathetic for someone spending Christmas at a goddamn sex club. But he was lonely, and he had nowhere to go, so it seemed like a good idea. 

It wasn’t. The place is glaringly empty, even Indy’s kink scene having better places to be on this most magical of nights.

He should’ve gone to Kentucky with Wayne. 

Except this is the old guy’s first time meeting his girlfriend’s family, and Eddie can just imagine how this would’ve played out if he’d tagged along.

Hi, I’m Eddie, Wayne’s nephew. Yeah, I might look familiar. Yeah, I was on the cover of Rolling Stone last month. Thanks, I’m happy your grandkids like my music. Yeah, no, I didn’t commit those satanic murders, that was- Listen, can we talk about my uncle? 

So, instead, here he is. 

Fuck, he hasn’t felt this miserable and mad at himself since that one time he told Steve Harrington to get back with his girl while inconspicuously ogling the guy’s sweaty chest hair under his own battle vest. 

Eddie sighs, getting up from his chair. He might as well head home while he still has some self-respect left.

He's almost at the exit when something catches his eye. There's a row of stalls in the wall, each with its own lockable door. 

The light over one is on. 

There's no fucking way, he thinks, even as his feet carry him right over and into the adjacent cabin. Someone probably forgot to kill the light. There's no fucking way anyone is in there. That would be at least as pathetic as a fucking rock star going to a fucking sex club on fucking Christmas day because he's a depressed moron. 

Still, he goes in, locks the door and pulls down his pants. The hole in the wall stares back at him like it's trying to mock him. Eddie tells himself to stop being silly. 

Worst case scenario is he stands here with his limp dick poking through a hole in the wall like an idiot. Nobody will know, because nobody’s there. Best case scenario is he gets to blow off some steam. 

Nothing happens. 

Eddie sighs and is just about to pull out when suddenly, there's movement. His heart leaps into his throat. He hears it all through the thin wall. A sharp intake of breath, like whoever is on the other side is just as surprised as him. They probably are. They've probably been in there a while. Then, the thud of knees hitting the floor. Eddie has just enough time to think that the mystery person must be really eager for this before he feels soft, warm lips wrapping around his tip. 

Whoever the person in the other stall is, they sure know what they’re doing. They start out gently, slowly sliding Eddie’s swelling cock in and out of that deliciously warm mouth, tongue teasing the length of him. Once he's fully hard, the tongue is joined by a hand, alternating soft licks with firm strokes, and Eddie feels something urgent and hot build at the base of his spine. He moans, fingers grasping the top of the stall for leverage as his hips buck, trying to get closer to that mouth even with the wall between them. 

They keep this up for several minutes. Eddie tries to keep his voice down, but it seems like each of his groans and whimpers spurs the other person on. And then, they scrape their teeth over his tip, and a startled curse escapes his lips, and they swallow him all the way down, as far as the wall allows. 

Eddie comes with a hoarse shout, spilling hot and wet into that mouth. The other person doesn’t pull away. Eddie feels their throat constricting around him as they swallow.

“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans, forehead sagging against the wall. His arms feel like jelly from supporting his weight. “Shit. Jesus. Shitshitshit.” 

And that is when the other person pulls off. 

“Eddie, if it’s you, please come out?” 

“Wait a sec,” says a voice. A voice garbled and wrecked from sucking his cock and swallowing his come. A voice that Eddie hasn’t heard in ten years.

Eddie’s heart stops. On the other side of the wall, a door opens.

“Eddie?” Right outside his own door. “Shit, is that really you?”

This isn’t real. It’s some bizarre, orgasm-induced pipe dream brought about by too much beer and seasonal depression. There’s no way the person outside is who Eddie thinks he is. 

He does. At least he remembers to pull up his pants first.

The door swings open, and there he is. Steve Harrington, ten years older but no less gorgeous, clad in skintight denim and a silky purple shirt, lips turned up into a delighted smile. They’re still swollen and shiny. 

“I knew it!” he cheers, pulling Eddie into a hug. “Nobody else babbles curses like that.”

Eddie grunts. Steve pulls back, holding him at arm’s length. 

“Looking good,” he smiles. “Even better than on that Rolling Stone cover. How have you been, man? Dustin said you talk sometimes, but you never-” 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Eddie blurts. His knees are wobbly and his head is spinning. “You aren’t- … You just sucked my- … You’re straight!” 

Steve laughs, and it’s every bit as breathtaking as Eddie remembers. 

“Yeah, no, I figured that out a while ago. Which you would know, if you’d just kept in touch.” He winks right into Eddie’s gobsmacked face, then takes him by the shoulder and steers him towards the bar. “How about you buy me a drink? We can celebrate this little Christmas miracle, and I’ll bring you up to speed.” 

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie Bingo

[corseque]

Hi! I've been following you for ages for your great Solas takes and immaculate taste in sad men. I've been thinking about this because I have a Dragon Age Inquisitor who is an abomination, what do you think Solas would think about abominations/do you recall him ever talking about them? Both Anders/Justice and the more demonic unwilling variety.

Personally I would assume he'd be initially horrified because that might seem like a violation of consent for both parties, but after learning more about them he might grow more curious/respect actual unions a mage might have as an abomination. I am basically just workshopping an OC and hitting a wall and you're the local Solas sage, so... XO

Oh, that's so nice..

Solas is more chill with willing abominations than you might think. And he seems to know all about it already. In Jaws of Hakkon, in the quest called “In Exile” you meet a young mage named Sigrid Gulsdotten who had been willingly possessed by a friendly spirit in order to teach her magic. Which is what the Avvar do culturally to make mages safer.

Sigrid was getting old enough that it was time for her and the spirit to part ways, but she didn’t want to give it up because she didn’t want to lose the spirit as a friend/confidant. Solas has a surprising amount to say in Jaws of Hakkon in general about how the Avvar interact with and relate to spirits, and he talks a lot in this quest too. He is very gentle with her. Let me look up exactly what he says. When you find clues about the mage's failed ritual to part with her spirit, Solas says (a mage in your party always speaks here):

"Residual magic. Someone was casting a spell, and was interrupted. Or stopped."

"If a mage was performing a ritual to part with a spirit, she may have needed to replenish her strength."

Then later, when you talk to her, the conversation goes like this:

Sigrid: "I could not do it! I have no close companions in the hold! No kin! I cannot lose my only friend!"

Inquisitor: "You're friends with this… spirit?"

Sigrid: "It has taught me with patience and kindness since I was a child, frightened of the fire I could suddenly call down."

Solas: "A great comfort. But you are no longer a child."

Sigrid: "Some mages need the help of a god all their lives."

Solas: "Very well. Perhaps, however, ask yourself if it is help you need, or companionship."

Sigrid: "I do not wish to lose the one who loves me."

Here is a playthrough that has this dialogue:

At the end of the quest, if you recruit Sigrid for the Inquisition, Varric, Sera, Vivienne, Iron Bull and Cassandra have strong negative feelings about it, while Cole approves. Solas doesn't seem to approve or disapprove, as far as I can tell. He doesn't say anything, at least. When talking to the Shaman about this Avvar practice, you get this conversation:

Inquisitor: "You let spirits possess your mages on purpose?"

Shaman: "What better teacher than one woven from magic? The spirits in the hold have helped us in this way for hundreds of years. Once a mage masters their powers, their teacher departs, duty ended. Unless the mage is weak."

Inquisitor: "What happens to these "weak" mages?"

Shaman: "Their teachers stay with them and the other gods watch them both, so neither soul turns sick. If one does sicken, or the mage stands in risk of harming the hold… One day, they do not wake in their bed. It is very sad. It is what must be done."

Solas: "It is kinder than what happens in many mage Circles."

So Solas seems to understand the reality that abominations become corrupted more easily, and that it's probably best for abominations to separate willingly.

Solas offers to separate Lucanis and Spite, and says their forceful combination was "a crime against [them] both" so I can only assume that it's the willingness factor that he gets upset by, along with him always being upset at the thought of spirits becoming corrupted.

[ryomens-vixen]

I Saw Mommy Kissing Fucking Santa Claus

🎅Summary: Your Son is home from college along with his other siblings, but to his knowledge, Santa Claus isn't real, That is until he catches Mommy doing something Naughty that Christmas night.

🎅Wc: Your guess is as good as mine... 🤷🏾‍♀️💕 NSFW btw

📝Authors note: This is just a Christmas drabble so don't expect a full story, I'm still trying to heal from last month, so I'm not too much in the writing spirit. Have a good Christmas and Enjoy ✨

Just imagine it, You and Kento Christmas night, wanting to spice up your sex life you somehow got him into roleplaying. This night you had him dressed up as a very Sexy version of the Jolly ole big man your kids use to love, Santa Claus. And it just so happens to be that your name was on his naughty list this year.

Maybe you forgot to pay the light bill? Or maybe was it coming to Kento's **2nd job** when he specifically told you not to.. Only for him to catch a certain blue eyed annoyance flirting with you, why we're you even laughing at his corny jokes anyways? Yeah, that definitely landed you on the Naughty list for sure.

How naughty of you to be on your knees, arms bound behind your back, Saint Nick's Holly Jolly, Red tipped dick down your throat. You didn't even deserve to breathe. Since his other hand was too busy holding your nappy hair in one big puff, he used his other to pinch your nose closed. That should teach not to breathe the same air as that white haired idiot. Oh man did Kento hate him, the way he was making you laugh, the way he had no regard for who you belonged too, the way he thought he was slick enough to hold you by the waist like that, oh it in infuriated him.

So much that he just had to take it out on your throat first. The kids had came home from college and made themselves at home in their childhood rooms, but one of them was being a little too nosey. Why did mom and dad put out milk and cookies if Santa Claus isn't real? Your son crept out of his room, hearing a combination of muffled moans, bells jingling, and skin smacking. Before he knew it he was halfway down the stairs where he saw it all, Santa Claus was real... And he was fucking his mother, while eating a cookie? And where is dad?

Does he know mom is cheating? This is sick! Oh boy did he ran back up stairs and didn't come back out. You and Nanami couldn't help but to laugh in the morning at your son's horrific story of mommy "cheating" that Christmas night.

📝🎅Naughty List: @blkkizzat @littlemochabunni @halosdiary @hoshigray @screampied @nkogneatho @buttercupblu143 @yung-notorious @rinhaler @arlerts-angel @blkwriters

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Hear me out! Chief!Katara x Ambassador!Zuko

I'm sure it's already been done before, but imagine an AU where Iroh dies and Lu Ten lives and becomes Fire Lord. Lu Ten's experiences during the war and his father's death give him a different outlook on his country and his family. He becomes Fire Lord after Sozin's death and decides to change things for the better.

(This would include him stepping up for Zuko and Azula. I like to imagine he's a huge dork who's constantly getting bullied by them. Idk what would happen with Ozai and Ursa here, but I like to think Ozai is just a hermit loser who pulls away from all of them including Azula which allows Ursa to start getting through to her fully in a way she couldn't before. Somewhat mentally stable Azula ftw)

Anyway, because of Lu Ten's change of heart, he decides to start with reparations in the Southern Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom villages. For the Southern Water Tribe, this allows for infrastructure developments which means easier contact with the Northern Tribe as well as rebuilding.

Hakoda brings his kids to the Southern Water Tribe for their first point of contact in decades and Sokka is immediately smitten with Princess Yue. She's been betrothed already, but Hakoda (with his feminist icon mother Kanna we stan) gently dissuades the NWT chief from forcing his literal child into marriage.

(And oops! He accidentally started a feminist revolution in the north. Well, it was a combination of that and tiny Katara proudly going around and telling the NWT women about the brave female members of their tribe that fought and lost their lives in the war. You know that meme about how Kanna sent Katara to kick Pakku's ass? Here, it's more like she sent little Katara to cause an uprising to the point where it was either he starts teaching everyone who wants to learn or they all boycott. In short, Pakku becomes the first person in the ATLA to get his ass cancelled)

Anyway! Sokka and Yue get married somewhere down the line as adults. But since she's the only NWT heir it means he has to rule with her in the North. And since Katara is the only remaining SWT heir, she becomes chief. Under Chief Katara's rule, the SWT proposers. And once a certain escaped prisoner comes back after the war ends, Katara becomes powerful too.

Zuko takes an interest in learning about other cultures. For so long, he was told that the Fire Nation was the superior nation and that they were doing the right thing by enforcing their rule on the other nations. With Lu Ten's reform, he's become curious as to what made his cousin change his mind. So Lu Ten decides to take him with him on diplomatic visits. Zuko experiences and learns what makes the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes different, but also great.

Once he visits the SWT he's immediately enthralled by its compassionate, brave, and powerful leader. Although, Katara isn't particularly impressed with the bumbling ambassador who can't seem to form words around her.

Zutara AUs are so fun that not even I can resist them. I like this because it's a cute reversal on Fire Lord Zuko x Diplomat Katara

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑 YOUR BRAIN IS FUCKING INGENIOUS PLEASE LET ME PUT IT IN A JAR ON MY MANTLE IN A NON CREEPY WAY THANKS!!!! Your capacity for a Zutara AU is insane considering you’re not even a ZK shipper 🙏🏼

So much to love!!! Lu Ten the Loser Lord! Kanna the feminist icon weaponizing her granddaughter to cancel Pakku! Hama living in the SWT (can we have bodyguard Hama??? I’ve been thinking about General Hama in @lykegenia’s The Things We Hide like, once a month, ever since I read it back in March and I think bodyguard Hama is a great variation…you’re never too old to girlboss). Yuekka ruling the NWT! ZUKO BEING A DUMBASS AROUND CHIEF KATARA PLEASE!

I think Ambassador Zuko is the funniest idea ever for like, many many reasons, but the funniest thing to me is how in this AU Lu Ten would need to choose nepo baby Zuko or nepo baby Azula as the diplomat and both are…kinda bad? Zuko would genuinely want to learn to be diplomatic but it does not come easily to him and he would start international diplomatic crises by accident, while Azula does understand diplomacy as a skill but arguably too well and would start international diplomatic crises on purpose.

anyway yes Zuko would absolutely lose all faculties of speech and possibly thinking once he encounters Katara, who is so passionate and thoughtful and devoted to justice! And she’d be like “who’s that Fire Nation idiot who can’t even string three words together? Doesn’t he know reparations are serious business??” And the people from the other nations would be confused because they’re like, Ambassador Zuko is really fair and actually a pretty smart guy what are you on about? THEN maybe she’d think he was doing it on purpose to undermine her…sorry I have to insert a classic misunderstanding somewhere…

ANYWAY if anyone has fic recs for Ambassador Zuko and Chief Katara PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I haven’t read any new Zutara fics in months because my autism compass changed direction, but new year new me etc

[skyfallart]

On the night of November 6th, 1983, twelve year old Jimmy Kern* heads back home from a night out with his friend. However… he never arrives. Now, Craig, Clyde, and Token must band together to find out what happened -- while getting entangled with supernatural forces... and a supernatural kid.

^Fan S1 Poster - S1 Redrawn Scenes

A/N: I don't what possessed me to write/draw this, but here it is. Since this an AU there has and will be changes. For now I just listened below the characters in the poster, and who their Stranger Things counter part is. I'm finishing up some scenes I redrawn, so hopefully I can get those up too (And introduce you to more people in the universe).

So, first up, we got the boys. We got...

° Craig Tucker - 12 - Dungeon Master/Thief - Middle Child - "Leader" of the group. Basically, I saw fan art of Creek being Mileven and I just had to try doing it on my own. Craig, just like in SP, is like the leader of his own group in this AU. I also made his D&D counterpart the same as TSoT, a thief instead of a paladin. But despite being a thief, he's still the heart of the group. Just like in Stranger Things, he's the one to find and allow Tweek to stay in his home. ° Token "Tolkien" Black || 12 || Ranger || Only Child || "Brawns over Brains" of the group. Still a bit of a rich kid in this AU, and lives with his two parents. He tends to butt heads with the others when Tweek comes into the story, feeling a bit left out and untrusting of the kid with superpowers; But eventually that all gets cleared up. In this AU, he's the one that goes to camp in S3, and has a long distance relationship with his GF, `Nicole, whom he met at camp. ° Clyde Donovan || 12 || Elf Cleric || Only Child || The "Voice of Reason" of the group. Lives with his single mother, Betsy, and their cat: Mr. Kitty (Stealing Cartman's cat here for this). I see him sharing a lot of traits with Dustin, but he's also a bit like Lucas too in this AU (He's more of the sporty one, and his GF, Bebe appears in S2 taking the place of Max). ° 011 - AKA: "Tweek" (Later: Tweek Marsh) - 12 - Mage - Superpowered Lab Rat Same kind of origin, stripped away from his mother and placed inside South Park Lab. After escaping he's found by the boys and ends up staying at Craig's house. He has the 011 tattoo on his wrist, but instead of being given the name "El", Craig gives him the name "Tweek" because of his fidgety moments (I see him being spazzy in this AU from the stress he felt from the lab, rather than the drug-induced coffee).

Then, we got the Kerns, which replaces the Byers. Seeing that Sharon has multiple last name's in SP, I chose Kern 'cause it sounded better than the others.

° Jimmy Valmer Kern - 12 - Bard - Youngest Child - "Ride or Die" Comedy until he's very last breath. May or may not have punched Vecna in the face while in the upside down. I unfortunately have to make our poor boy Jimmy as Will. I promise he won't be as neglected once he returns like his ST counterpart. He's D&D character is a bard like in TSoT, and for now, I have to romance planned for him. Just good old family love.

° Sharon Kern - 40s - Single Mother - Will do anything for her children. I thought she was the perfect choice for Joyce after seeing the "Spooky Fish" episode. Sharon literally was burying bodies for her son Stan, and making sure he wouldn't end up in jail (For something he didn't do). I could definitely see this woman communicating with X-Mas lights to find her son. ° Older! Stanley Kern - 16 - Oldest Child - Excellent Photographer - Can actually talk to girls without vomiting. And yes, we're getting Blond Stan in this AU because I said so. I made him Jonathan in this AU after deciding who was going to be playing Nancy. Stan's kind of an outcast until he meets Wendy, who's trying to look for his lost friend, while he looks for his brother. Together, with their determination combined, they'll make anything work.

Other Characters. We've got...

° Older! Wendy Testaburger Tucker - 16 - Older Child - Total Badass in the second half of the 1st season. Typical sibling love-hate relationship w/Craig. After realizing her friend has gone missing under mysterious circumstances, typical "All-American" girl Wendy transforms into someone better, as she will do anything to find out what happen. She teams up with Stan... giving her boyfriend the wrong idea (Not spoiling who the BF is just yet). ° Randy Marsh - 40s - Town Sheriff - Has the hots for local single mother, Sharon (If it isn't obvious). Randy, just like Hopper, in this AU had an ex-wife and a daughter who passed (Sorry, Shelley). He lives a sad life of donuts and alcohol, until the search for Jimmy sparks something inside of him, and spirals his life into the supernatural forces caused by the lab. He eventually has to get Sharon involved to solve this crime. ° Dr. Alphonse Mephesto - 50s - Genetic Engineer/Crazed Local Scientist - "Papa" to a lot of children that ain't even his (I mean, he named his kids after numbers. Can we call CPS now?). I didn't know who else to pick, but for some reason Mephesto might actually be a good choice for Brenner. You'll learn more about him later on.

For now, that's all I got. I'll try to finish those screencaps soon! (And if anyone's interested, maybe I'll write a fanfic? Or a fan-comic?)

[crimsonender]

I guess I'm under fire for ripping off Hazbin Hotel so here's a bit about Crimp and his origins.

So the idea for Crimp (the cartoon avatar I use to represent myself) is actually a pretty old design I've polished a few times. It's ultimately a design that came about from combining and refining two earlier designs

These are two OCs I made way back when. On the right is Treyu, whose name and design was ultimately recycled for a different OC, and on the left a character whose colour scheme I imagine looks very familiar. It was a devil themed super hero named Hell's Belle. I've always had a fascination with demons and angels, ever since I was young. Belle is from 2016, Treyu is from 2018. Both of these predate Helluva Boss and Hazbin which came out in 2019. Looking at their designs its also very clear that Vivzie Pop is also... just not an inspo for me.

When I needed a Minecraft skin in 2022 due to my friend beating the crap out of me due to her flight or fight response kicking in whenever she saw my red-eyed enderman skin I basically just used Belle's colour scheme, but I made the character male because it was supposed to represent me. Admittedly the design on the right takes a lot of influence from Adventure Time in it's colour scheme and shape language.

You can see Treyu's influence in later art of the design. Still doesn't really look like a Vivzie character imho.

When it came time to start making content though I kinda felt like it was a bit conceited to make the character I represent myself with to be "sexy" so I kinda softened and cute-ified him so his appeal would be more cute and friendly than hot. This happened earlier this year. Over time I've changed the shape of his horns and gotten a lot more comfortable drawing him.

That's pretty much that! Hope you found it interesting.

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

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Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises��� site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[cute-little-fly]

This is what I think about the tumblr critical communities. I have seen good comments that come from good places, and is good to be critical about things you like so creators can put attention to it and improve. Criticism has a good side but also a bad one.

But criticism needs to be more objective. Try to understand what was meant, consider all the elements in the scenes and dialogues with the overarching story and at the end see what could have being done better and what was done good. List what did it fail? What did it worked? Why? This is the usual kind of criticism I have seen from movie analists, and how I think those should be. We will always disagree at some points, but at least try to see more.

But most criticisms here and in other webs are like: this is bad because it should be this way or this other way. Because it should have ended like this or that. Then, you will see somebody else comment the entire opposite. There is no real objectivity or deep analysis most of the times. Or they villanize characters.

Like, you are seeing Jynx arc bad because you don’t detach to how you think should have been. So, no wonder why you don’t understand the one being shown in the series. Is true that some themes in the series were left out and even softened, but we need to accept it. Is true Zaun and Piltover could have had a better resolution, and is kinda bad that they were in the focus in season 1 and that season 2 couldn’t make much place for them. Is true some arcs that the one of Mel could have been shorter. Some other scenes or desitions are also less thought. But even with all of that Arcane is still GOOD. For me this is what they fail to see. Arcane ending was anticlimactic and rushed in some parts, but if you consider the series overall and what it says and happened, is clearly good and super worth the watch.

We can’t do nothing about the fact that the writers room went from 13 people to 3 people. I don’t think the 3 people left are bad writers, but, the work of 13 people cannot be replaced by 3 people. The level of details and everything of course will be different because each person contributes with their best skill. Season 1 had a lot more details and things to analyze because of how many good writers they had.

I also hoped we were going to see a revolution Jynx and that she may redeem herself that way when Do you wanna come play was released. But it ended being a bummer and not happening that, and I am actually… fine? Amanda said that ending for the sisters was intended since the very beginning. Also, for me it makes sense to what we have seen of them. They were never revolutionaries but because of who they are they were always in the middle of the conflict.

So yeah… I think is a combination of all the headcanons people had after season 1 not really being intended by the show runners, that rubbing people the wrong way, and also some things being teased to misdirect made the series look bad because how few time there is for everything and those things teased keep the people hoping for certain things to happened.

Of course, I think some of those things people headcanoned really appeared to be what the series was going to be, and is a possibility that they changed those plans, or the writers in charge of that were the ones fired and the ones left didn’t knew how to do that properly with that short time…

Buuut, at the end, my point is… we should cherish what we have, the good, talk about what we could have had in a constructive way (not saying how the show was ruined and super bad, because you are shoving the amazing things under a rug) and how they should try to balance better the thematic elements for the next shows (and maybe plan better the level of production and see that having more writers is important and have a better team communication); without falling into only seeing the negative and ignore All the amazing things this series has. Even with its imperfections…

I saw a lot the critique of a writer that saw both the good and bad things this season had. He actually criticized mostly act III and how the sisters lost relevance being the ones more important at the beginning. Which is a very valid one. Arcane seen overall as one single thing is an amazing series. Is one of my highlights of 2024.

Yes I am very emotionally invested in Arcane, yes I do draw real life inspiration from it, yes my favorite character is based on who I relate to the most, but you know what I DON'T do? I don't equate the story as a complete mirror to reality. I don't think it's bad to tell stories with unhappy endings. I don't think it's bad to have problematic characters. I don't think it's bad to LIKE problematic characters. I can still separate fiction from reality. And I think it's great practice to have morally ambiguous stories so that we can have actual conversations about moral ambiguity outside of the sphere of real life.

Art is a great conduit to talk about real life issues. AND it's a great way to look closer at dark topics without drawing from real life situations. It is BOTH.

True critique knows the distinction and when to bounce between the two.

[merlinistired]

The Crossing, Chapter 1 of Discontinued Fic

Rising back up as I do some wip cleaning. I've had this big Merlin AU planned for years, stopped working on it, and now...I'm retiring it.

So here's the chapter draft I had. I think I'll post it on ao3, but also I'll share my plot notes. I won't share them all that's too many lol

Story under cut

“It is my destiny,” Merlin stated as he locked eyes with the Cailleach. He would not let Arthur die - he would not let Albion die. The altar seemed to speak to Merlin - this was the right thing, it had to be. The Cailleach watched him with her sunken eyes in her pale gray face. Merlin focused on those eyes, as the woman - god - began to speak.

“Perhaps,” the Cailleach replied. Merlin tore his gaze away from her and back towards the Veil. Lancelot was going forward.

Lancelot is about to make himself the sacrifice!

“No!” Merlin shouted, his eyes glowing with burning magic. Lancelot froze before flying backwards as Arthur had done. Lancelot gasped he landed, but the fall seemed to have knocked him out. He lay still in his chainmail.

“So you choose to use up your time. That is your doing.” The Cailleach spoke and Merlin kept his gaze on Lancelot as he stepped forward. The screams reverberated in his ears, his soul, his magic. Merlin paused as he gazed at Lancelot.

I know you meant well, but this is what I have to do. Merlin gave the unconscious man a sad smile. He stepped around him and into the darkness that was death.

Merlin screamed and gold flashed before his eyes. His magic roiled within him.It was dark and growing darker. The only light in the abyss was surrounding him, engulfing him. Bright and orange as a flame. He burned.

His clothes fluttered off in pieces. First his jacket and neckerchief, then shirt and pants. Merlin was sure his boots were gone, but the burning continued.

“This is for Arthur!” Merlin felt tears on his face, a brief respite on his burning face. A crack sounded and Merlin fell backwards as the color faded. He ached all over.

“So he died? What does the Triple Goddess think of this?”

Merlin choked, trying to find air. He was shaking and he saw nothing.

What’s going on? Why am I not dead?

…Is this death?

“Emrys was not to die. She does not know.”

There was a laugh. Merlin tried to move. He wasn’t sure if he did. His body continued to burn, and the air pressed against him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see. Everything was darkness - darker than night.

Why does everyone think death is so peaceful?

“Ah, I see.” The pain abated and Merlin felt someone - something - touching his shoulders. The darkness holding him began to fade. There was a dark, wispy figure above him.

“Emrys will change. Destiny was not coming - change was not coming.” Merlin thought the figure above him was speaking, but he couldn’t be sure.

“You cannot be sure. You are only -“

“I know what I am. I am nothing to the gods. And Emrys is. So if Albion is to rise - if the world is to enter a New Age, then…” Merlin gasped as the figure lifted him. The voice had trailed off and the figure held him close to their body.

Merlin felt like a small child being comforted by his mother. The pain was fading, though there was still no color. Or, rather, nothing bright or distinct. There were two shapes. The figure, whom Merlin could no longer see, and another standing close. Merlin couldn’t see himself.

“You intend to bring about change. Then you will become like those that left. You will never be forgiven. You know this.” Merlin felt the hesitation from the figure holding him. He turned towards the other figure - they sounded familiar. Like the -

The Cailleach? Who is this with me?

“Perhaps, if they notice what I have done. I will not allow - I…Emrys will decide. Emrys will be the cause for change. And I know when.”

The figure began walking and Merlin gasped. Air was flowing again and the area brightened. Merlin felt a chill and glanced down.

His nude, pale body was held gently by the dark, wispy figure. Merlin felt and saw goosebumps, and almost blushed. He should have blushed, turned warm.

“…Uh?” Merlin mumbled and saw movement where the figure’s head should be.

“Just rest, Em - Merlin, it’ll be…easier.” The figure stepped into the light and Merlin once more felt on fire. It dug into his soul, and he was likely screaming. He couldn’t tell - sound had vanished as the light engulfed him.

Merlin’s head fell back and he knew nothing more.

-

“Are you injured, sir?” Merlin felt small hands on his side. He slowly opened his eyes. The world was mute around him, and he didn’t know where he was. Merlin realized he was looking at the sky - but it was gray, bleak.

And yet there were no clouds.

Is this death? Have I finally entered the other world?

“Emrys will be the cause for change.”

Merlin began to push himself up. The figure’s words should…bother him, but there was nothing. No stirring of confusion or disorientation.

There was…acceptance.

“Sir?” Merlin turned to a small child, wearing a cloak of the Druids. They were in an open and exposed place. The Druid child should be hiding, or with another Druid.

“Where am I?” Merlin asked. He had wanted to ask what was going on, but instead he stared at the child. They were small - likely five or six. Their skin was dark, and Merlin could see dark, frizzy hair peeking out from under the cloak.

“Near Daobeth, sir.” Merlin glanced around. The rocky cliffs, empty paths…He remembered this place. It seemed duller than the last time.

“Have the Dorocha stopped?” Merlin asked, his voice cold. A frown tugged at his lips. He did not like whatever was going on. The child frowned at him, glancing up as the hood fell. The child was indeed young, with cheeks still round from infancy.

“But it’s spring.” The child seemed confused and Merlin blinked.

But Samhain has just passed. What happened?

“Can you bring me to your elders?” Merlin asked calmly. Too calmly - shouldn’t he be worried? The child nodded with a smile and took Merlin’s hand.

“Your magic is soft,” the child said as they began to lead Merlin. Their cloak was dark - Merlin thought it look dark gray, but it could have been green or brown.

“Soft? My magic is…wilder, freer.” Merlin wasn’t sure why he was speaking so freely. Maybe the child was keeping him calm.

Or perhaps it’s just shock. Or, if this is death, maybe there is no worry.

“It’s quiet now,” the child giggled. Merlin sighed and continued following the child. His feet dragged on the ground as the child only came to his knees.

The child rounded the corner and Merlin saw a procession of Druids. This was the largest group he had ever seen. He stared as the child released him and bounded into the group. Several adults turned as they saw their charge returning, and looked at him curiously. They turned away as Merlin stood there, but slowly the whole group came to a stop.

Merlin saw the child returning, leading a trio of cloaked adults. He assumed they were the elders of this clan.

“Greetings, stranger,” the smallest of the three greeted. They pulled down their hood, revealing an older woman with graying hair. Merlin couldn’t tell what the original color was - it seemed to simply be a lighter gray. The other two pulled down their hoods; all three were women. Or, Merlin assumed so, they had a feminine look to them. Merlin watched the child rejoin the groups of druids.

“…Greetings,” Merlin mumbled as he turned back to the trio. One of them, bright eyes and long, dark hair, took Merlin’s hand. Merlin nearly pulled away.

“What has happened to you?” the woman asked, her eyes glazing over. Merlin felt the burning return, and pulled his hand away.

“I…” The woman looked at him sadly.

“You came from so far. Your magic is hurting. Who are you?” The other two watched as Merlin opened his mouth.

“I am….Dragoon. There was a…magical mishap.” Merlin watched as the women turned to each and began whispering. Merlin blinked as he waited.

“The High Priestesses will know how to better help you. We were traveling to Camelot, perhaps you can find someone to take you to the Isle there.”

They were going to Camelot? But the -

“Might I ask what year it is?” Merlin interrupted as the elders began to turn to rejoin their clan. “I…I was once displaced several months, and this was powerful magic.” The three seemed surprised - Merlin wanted to take his words back. Time magic was rare and required immense power. Power the average sorcerer or warlock lacked. Merlin felt…uncomfortable with how they stared at him.

“Uther Pendragon has just taken Camelot, after a bloody war for his family’s stolen throne. He declared the Pendragon Age a week ago,” the older woman answered. She stepped forward with a curious look on her face. Merlin was not quite sure what it meant.

Gods and goddesses…I am alive before Arthur’s birth. Merlin felt like he should faint, but he smiled instead. He hoped it wasn’t as empty as he felt.

“Thank you, it’s only been a few days then.” The elders smiled at him then.

“Would you care to join us?” the woman who had touched him earlier offered. Merlin - Dragoon, he must now take the name - blinked.

“I…I would be honored, thank you.” Dragoon blinked again at the elders, and then turned up his lips into a smile. He felt exhausted. The elders turned then to rejoin their clan, and Dragoon blinked again.

Dragoon’s hands shook, and he gripped his jacket. It felt heavy. The ground dipped as Mer - Dragoon walked forward to join the clan. Dragoon found it difficult to lift his feet and walk with the clan.

“Hello,” a voice said. Dragoon blinked and tilted his head to the speaker. It was a druid in a gray cloak.

“…Hello,” Dragoon replied. He began to glance away when the voice spoke again.

“I am Sioned,” the voice said. A brown hand reached up to their cloak and they pulled it down. Sioned was young - Mer-Dragoon thought they were not even eighteen.

Could be wrong…They could my - no…Older.

Merlin grimaced. Everyone here was older than him. Something had gone wrong - perhaps this was truly death’s journey. It would begin to make sense…surely.

Maybe I need to find the voice, the one who brought me.

“What is your name?” Sioned quietly asked as the youth pulled Dragoon from his thoughts.

“Dragoon,” Dragoon responded. He slowly moved his eyes to glance at Sioned again. They were giving a small smile and Dragoon tilted his head at them. He could not tell if the were a young man or a young woman.

“Where do you hail from?” Sioned asked as they once more pulled Dragoon from his thoughts. Dragoon nearly stopped.

Would Ealdor be an acceptable answer? Who was king of Essetir?

“Essetir,” Dragoon blurted. It sounded like he got sick on his words, and the look Sioned gave him told him that it did. “You?” Dragoon found his words clumsier than his actions.

Why were his words clumsy? And why had the tilting stopped?

“Essetir?” Sioned questioned. Dragoon blinked - was there something wrong with Essetir at this time. “Aren’t the twin kings fighting for power?” Dragoon shrugged.

“I’ve never been much for politics.”

Except that was my destiny…the other side of the coin…What now, that I am here before Arthur’s birth?

Sioned laughed, “Well. At least the Druids found you instead of any with the High Priests and Priestesses.” Sioned pulled their grey hood back over their head.

“Are you a girl or boy?” Dragoon blurted. Dragoon stopped and his feet scrapped on the ground.

That could have come out better.

“I…well…um…” Sioned had stopped as well. The clan kept going, the few who had been surrounding or behind them soon passed.

“Shall we - ” Dragoon thought Sioned was not going to answer when they did.

“I’m a girl…woman. I’ve never seen anyone ask unless they’re asking about a newborn babe.” Dragoon forced a smile and face Sioned.

“I’m just special,” he said. He almost sounded like Merlin.

Has Merlin died and Dragoon taken his place? But Dragoon should be me - should not be separate from Merlin…

“Oh,” Sioned shrugged. “Though I have heard of people other than men and women - I’m not sure if I’ve met such a person. If I have they haven’t told me.”

“Oh,” Dragoon repeated. He nodded his head, though he frowned. He stopped nodding his head and glanced over at Sioned.

Dragoon turned away and grabbed at his neck. His neckerchief was back. He gripped it in his hand as a shake came and went.

Gods, the burning, Dragoon thought. I never want to burn again.

Something welled inside of Dragoon, but it soon passed. He let out a sigh, and continued forward. Sioned was silent, and he stopped glancing her way.

Dragoon followed the druids as they made their way through the gray canyon. The gray began to blur and Dragoon had trouble focusing on the cloaks that surrounded him. He blinked and his feet caught on the ground. He felt a hand brush his arm as he tripped, but he felt magic push him up.

“Dragoon…you are talented,” Sioned breathed.

Dragoon’s legs felt heavy as the Druids made camp. He looked up at the stars and sighed again. The exhaustion that had waned during his walk returned.

Dragoon sank to the ground. He leaned forward and let out a sigh. His eyes began to close when he heard footsteps approach.

“Dragoon?” Sioned asked. Dragoon lifted his head and forced his eyes open. “May I ask something?”

“You may,” Dragoon breathed. His eyes began to close again as Sioned sat beside him. She let out a breath before she asked.

“Do you know the legend of Emrys?” Sioned asked. Dragoon’s magic roiled within him and he opened his eyes. The darkness of the sky seemed to brighten for a moment before it faded again.

“I know there is a prophecy that he and the Once and Future King will bring Albion out of a time of darkness,” Dragoon answered before he admitted. “But I do not know the prophecy.”

Dragoon heard Sioned turn on the ground. He blinked as he stared up at the sky. His back was pressed against many small stones.

Dragoon’s magic reached out around him. It danced around the druids, whose magic shivered through the air. Dragoon lowered his arms onto the stone. He felt like the stars would reach for him, that his magic would take hold. That he would ascend beyond the only world he had ever known.

“Are you listening, Dragoon?”

“Yes,” Dragoon answered. He forced his attention on Sioned. He swallowed back the wandering magic. He should be frightened, he knew, by the sentience it was quickly gaining.

But there was nothing. Just magic and - and -

“They say Emrys will be born in ashes. Ashes of the dead. As magic is purged from the land, the Once and Future King will be born. Emrys will find him, and he will guide the king’s magic into a new age for the secular and magical world. The gods will speak to us again; and the world will know magic again.”

“Do we not already know magic now?” Dragoon closed his eyes.

It was warm in the druid camp. Safe. Dragoon had never felt so safe, even as a child. The magic flowed through the camp and around it. It encompassed the world.

Sioned laughed. “Not like before.”

Dragoon opened his eyes and sat up. Dirt and small stones fell behind him. He could feel the marks in his back. Something tugged his mind. A shadow at the edge of camp. Dragoon moved his eyes, but the shadow was gone. The thought was his, not a shadow. If he still felt, he would be worried.

He should be worried. Perhaps he was, thinking what he should feel and then not feeling it as he did. Humanity was eluding him enough that Dragoon wondered if the power of Emrys had become immortal. He had begun to suspect he couldn’t die before he sacrificed himself, but now he was a husk of a man. His magic was soaring to new heights, and Dragoon knew Merlin was being left behind.

“What was before?” Dragoon asked. Dragoon heard soft breathing.

Dragoon turned. He focused with his eyes and magic on Sioned. Her breathing made it sound like she was sleeping. He could tell she was not, but was she trying to? Sioned rolled and blinked at him.

“Before the Decline?” Sioned asked.

“Yes,” Dragoon said. “I was trained to use magic, not its history.”

History that even its whispers were burned. Dragoon shivered at the thought of burning. His mind almost slipped back into the Cailleach’s domain.

“There was a more godly magic amongst humans,” Sioned said. Her words brought him back to the druid camp. “There may have been many more, but the most powerful was the mortal who could control life and death as if they were truly a god.”

Dragoon had certainly altered destiny as Merlin, but something felt different about the magic Sioned described.

“What of wraiths?” Dragoon asked.

“No,” Sioned said with a shake of her head. “This mortal god could take life with a breath, and in the next restore it. There have been cases since the Decline began, however, of such mortal gods. I have not heard of any that live now.”

“Is Emrys one of these mortal gods?” Dragoon asked.

Sioned smiled. “That is a topic for debate amongst druid elders, but none have a firm agreement. Emrys will not be a normal warlock, but will be something else entirely. That we understand.”

Dragoon hummed. He closed his eyes.

“Good night Sioned,” he told her. He did not hear Sioned’s response.

Dragoon’s magic soared out away from him. His body fell asleep, but his mind - his soul, thrummed with the magic all around him. This was Emrys, in its rawest form. Merlin had been too frightened to unleash such power. Dragoon could remember, as a young boy, gliding through the night as he slept.

His mother taught him to hide his magic when he began doing chores in the night, and the village thought some magical horror had come to visit. The dreams had stopped before he was ten. Merlin had never had the chance to tell Gaius, or Kilgharrah, about the power he had tasted so young.

Dragoon now could do whatever he pleased. Then he felt it. Power thrummed within the magic of the world outside of camp. It had just appeared, but -

Dragoon could feel sealing death circling his soul self. His body, prone on the ground, twitched. He burned and burned and - Dragoon sent out a burst of magic. The magical force was stalwart. It held against the might of Emrys.

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Dragoon felt pain. He felt a rush of - of rage inside his very being. Dragoon flung through the darkness. The presence drifted back away from the camp. And then he was upon it.

“Hello Dragoon,” the figure greeted. “An interesting name, since you can rebuild yourself outside of your place in time.”

Dragoon felt the burning ebb away. His soul shook in the figure’s presence. The magic had been strong before, when he was some distance away.

Now, it teased consuming his very being by the power it bled.

“I am The Messenger,” the figure said. “I have to keep an eye on you, Emrys. Merlin. Dragoon.”

Dragoon glided forward. He would take up The Messenger’s challenge, if -

“We will meet again, I’m sure,” The Messenger said. “I suggest you rest. You will have decisions in the future. And I will have my new…duties…on top of old ones.”

The Messenger faded into the darkness. Dragoon reached out. The magic was gone. He had never even gotten a proper look at The Messenger.

Dragoon blinked in this place. Magic thrummed through and around him. He flew back to his body. Then he had a dreamless, still sleep.

-

Dragoon felt a whisper of a dream. He saw his mother mouth Merlin. He opened his eyes. His vision cleared and he could almost see beyond the sky. Then it darkened with clouds. His blinked and his control was released. Gold turned to blue, and he let out a breath.

Almost, Dragoon thought. The…absence was almost broken.

Water dripped down his cheek. Dragoon lifted an arm and his spindly fingers felt tears. He was crying. Had cried. Dragoon remembered his mother’s face, but he wasn’t sure why that would make him cry. He blinked. She would be fine, alive in this time.

[internetskiff]

The most powerful ability exclusive to humanity in the Half Life/Portal shared universe is our ability to just throw bullshit at the wall and see what sticks. Aperture "OSHA are the devil" Science have managed to create completely safe interconnected points in space. The same company that turns people's blood into gasoline and shoves lions and humans into the same enclosed space for the vague concept of "Science". Meanwhile Black Mesa still has to use Xen as a crossing and their teleportation device requires an entire reactor with a village's worth of staff constantly maintaining it, just to end up having most of said staff abducted by onion-headed aliens. Even the resistance hasn't managed to create completely stable teleporters with a compressed Xen relay, meanwhile Aperture just went "oh dude let's shove a black hole into a non-waterproof gun" and have just created a teleportation method that just removes Xen from the equation entirely. Doesn't change the fact they bullshat so bad they basically got themselves gassed to death, but still.

The Resistance are a good example of this too. The Combine seem to have a complete set-in-stone thought process and understanding of science which meant they didn't even begin to explore local teleportation via Xen, meanwhile a group of random human mechanics and scientists have managed to cobble together at least two semi-functional local teleporters out of scrap metal and stolen Combine tech, to the point the All-Consuming Interdimensional Empire had to straight up copy their homework. And that isn't even the only time they seem to be taking human shit to just copy the blueprints.

They 100% just yoinked the entire damn car out of that garage just to take a crack at reverse-engineering the Tau Cannon attached to it. Even Resistance weaponry somehow manages to rival or at least stand equal to Combine tech - and we're talking improvised crossbows that shoot superheated rods of rebar at the target compared to high-tech rifles that can discharge orbs of pure dark energy. The collapse of the entire Citadel is basically set into motion as a result of a cobbled together Rebel device placed into extremely capable hands.

The events of the Portal games are a case of extremely elaborate machinelike planning versus pure human improvisation, with Chell's entire escape in the first game involving her simply weaseling her way through small cracks that GLaDOS missed while setting up her ambushes, eventually turning her own rocket turret against her to destroy her.

I suppose you could argue this falls flat in Portal 2 with Wheatley, but it's important to remember he's designed to be an utter idiot, so it's safe to say he wouldn't obsess over the larger picture like GLaDOS to the point where he fails to see the cracks. Yes, he's the one that breaks Chell out of the test chambers again, and yes, he's the one that came up with the sabotage plot - but it's important to note while he knows what to target in the sabotage, when we actually get there he doesn't quite know how to sabotage it, leaving Chell to figure it out on her own. She botches the Turret Quality Control Line with some minor guidance, but it's basically completely up to her to figure out how to cut off the Neurotoxin Supply. It's through her improvisation that Wheatley even manages to get into GLaDOS' chamber, tumbling through her neurotoxin vent and shattering the glass cage she trapped Chell inside of. It's through Chell's improvisation that the Core Transfer even occurs in the first place.

The script is flipped specifically when Wheatley takes charge, because oops - turns out a mind capable of focusing on the bigger picture might be pretty important when it comes to running an entire facility powered by it's own Reactor. Wheatley just completely zeroes in on his own personal pleasure, hacking up test chambers and the objects within them to try and figure out the easiest way to get his solution euphoria as quick as possible.

Still, something that's pretty interesting is that only Wheatley has ever managed to create a trap that's impossible to foresee and avoid, something GLaDOS has repeatedly failed to do to the point she ends up commending him. I believe this is because his way of thinking is a lot closer to Chell's compared to GLaDOS'. He puts up way more of a fight as the two run through the facility trying to get to him, seemingly improvising on the spot just like Chell has been over the course of the two games. Even his lair would be impossible to survive if it weren't for a single Conversion Gel pipe he somehow failed to notice and remove.

Whether in a laboratory deep beneath the soil or an alien tower tall enough to split the clouds, the ingenuity of even a single person is enough to topple a tower or destroy a supercomputer 3 times over.

Marc Laidlaw put what I'm trying to say into a single sentence when writing for the BreenGrub twitter account:

"The superstructure is riddled with cracks."

[boar-cry]

UN JOUR, JE SERAI DE RETOUR PRÈS DE TOI ▪︎ 《ONE DAY, I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE》

Y'know, despite how much I write and draw sad stuff, I truly believe in good things and happy endings. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm looking forward to it regardless! :)

(different versions beneath the cut:)

[freetheshit-outofyou]

@ak4me, the statement is not wrong regardless of yours or my feelings about him. For a long time I enjoyed Garand Thumb's (Michael Jones) content but his self righteous tone always rubbed me the wrong way. Just because I don't like his tone doesn't make the statement incorrect. I cannot tell you how many 65"-69", 250-350 pound folks I have run into or run with that talk all that tactical shit, only to be utterly defeated by a plate carrier, a 2% up-hill grade (or a flight of stairs), and God forbid, A pro mask. Everyone of these folks is a future self-caused casualty. Everyone of them knows that their weight and lack of physical activity makes them a liability no matter how good they are from the shooting bench, few of them do anything about it. At best they will be a mobile resupply drop for those around them, at worst they will get other people killed when they can't hold their place in the team. I went from 175lbs to 230lbs after a disk fusion. I felt sorry for myself, I felt diminished in some way and I let myself go. I often joked on here that "If shit popped off today I'd make a good fixed gun emplacement." Last September, two things changed. I watched myself walking into the house on the security camera and I could not believe how freaking fat I was. 230 pounds of cardiac arrest waiting to happen. Then on 20 September the Doc gave me some long face news. The combination of those to realities woke me up. I will never be the nimble Jungle Fighter I once was. But, I do not have to settle for a self induced "fat pellet" death either. Since 22 September I have dropped 25 pounds. I am lighter than I have been in many years. I am still 35 pounds away from my goal but I am working my way there one step at a time. If you are in piss poor shape (mental and/or physical), I am, and you can shoot well, I do. You are no more effective in the fight, in your own self-defense than the dude who is in prime physical shape with a gun in their hand they do no know how to use. I'm not saying shoot roids, I'm not saying drop to 9% body fat. I am saying you should be able to do 3 to 5 second rushes in full gear and not stoke out. I'm saying that "Rules #1 and #18" of Zombieland are rules that will keep you in the fight for your life if it should ever happen. We don't need to be Adonis, but we should be able to do a flight of stairs without a "breather" 12 steps in.

[utilitycaster]

I like that the Raven Queen, who made the decision to take on an immense and (at least to her understanding at the time) unending responsibility is the one who calls Bells Hells out on their endless indecision.

It's been...interesting, shall we say, tracking this "party of NPCs," and tracking the fandom response throughout. The initial reception to "party of NPCs" was actually a rather cold one. This took place early in the campaign, prior to the Gnarlrock fight, and at the time a lot of people who shipped Imogen and Laudna were actually extremely resistant to the idea that Imogen was the "main character" of the campaign (as seen in the fallout from the gnarlrock fight, in which the bulk of attacks from the fandom were on Imogen). I've had complicated feelings on Taliesin's reads of this campaign specifically - he tends to have a very good understanding of his own characters that doesn't necessarily expand beyond them - but that phrase was indeed pretty valid. I think about the WBN interludes, in fact, in which the cast plays using NPC statblocks, and what a true party of NPCs for Bells Hells would look like, since it would be quite simple to draw up.

Allied NPCs in TTRPGs rarely act without guidance from the PCs. I've cast a critical eye in the past towards certain meta (particularly romantic in nature, regarding Yeza or Essek or Gilmore not making moves) for this reason, because while villains and antagonists move throughout the world generating obstacles, allies exist to be directed. They have their limits, of course; they have their own priorities and motivations and cannot be persuaded against their nature, but they can be guided at oblique angles from the GMs initial intent given enough work from the PCs. They're still people with thoughts and feelings and dreams, to an extent, but rarely do they make decisions that would conflict with those of the PCs.

That's the problem with a party of NPCs. NPCs take direction. They serve as support, but they're not in the driver's seat. And the Raven Queen has noticed.

The attitude within the fandom towards "Party of NPCs" became far more positive over time, and I wonder if it should have. People began to lean perhaps too heavily on how Bells Hells were people from nothing and nowhere, discarded. This is of course objectively false when comparing across parties (can we really say Imogen had a worse childhood than Vex? Chetney to Caleb? Even Ashton to Fjord?) but were it true, that in and of itself wouldn't be a problem. D&D backstories are often tear-stained and blood-soaked, full of unjust accusations, dead or neglectful parents, failure and regret. D&D is a game about coming from very little but a disproportionately good stat block for a commoner. It is unavoidably about amassing power. Starting off as a party of NPCs is fine. You should not still be a party of NPCs at the endgame.

I mentioned the gnarlrock, and I've mentioned an emphasis (or overemphasis) on this party's lack of agency and I think that remains the problem. Ludinus's villainy is rich, complex, and multifaceted, but a consistent element of it is his eternal false insistence that he - Martinet, founder and head of the Cerberus Assembly, Archmage - is just a little guy, chaff in the wind of the will of the gods, without free will of his own (he says, as he places his thread outside the reach of the Matron). That too is a theme in fandom discourse: free will and intent. Is Imogen justified in being angry at Laudna for breaking the rock if that wasn't Laudna's intent? (yes.) Is Orym on a quest of vengeance, with a death wish? (no, but if he were it wouldn't matter.) Was it wrong to pressure Fearne to take the shard instead of letting her make her own choices? (yes.)

Did any of you, perhaps in preschool or kindergarten, since that's about the age when this happens, have someone pull your hair and for adults to say "it's because they like you?" I find this is a good way to convey the importance, or unimportance, or intent. Because when your hair is being pulled, at least if that is the extent of the problem, it doesn't matter if it comes from the misguided affections of a four-year-old admirer who doesn't know how to use their words, or a six-year-old who just grabbed the most obvious material with which to test the limits of the safety scissors, or an eleven-year-old bully. Your hair is being pulled and you want it to stop. It doesn't matter if the person secretly likes you or if they want to hurt you; it matters that no matter the intent behind it, they are doing so. And if you reject the affections of your fellow preschool classmate because you think they might pull your hair, that's a fair consequence.

Bells Hells' indecision is some sort of cosmic hair pulling. They have reasons for faltering, and some of those reasons are understandable balking at an immense weight placed upon them and some of those reasons come from a deeply self-centered place in which their individual pain is used to blot out the suffering of countless others. But in the end, even that doesn't matter. Their histories don't matter. We don't need another series of introductions of where they come from and what they've done. We need people who can make decisions and who will act.

The Raven Queen seems to have been convinced they will. I'm not sure. But I think we are in agreement that inaction is, regardless of the intent behind it, no different than active harm. It would be irresponsible to continue to be a party of NPCs; if they truly are lost and forgotten fuck-ups, they have a responsibility (as the god of death once did) to abdicate and find a replacement.

[aroaceceliaripley]

okay guys. i got my brother to guess the life series people

[arrowheadedbitch]

Hear me out, Ezekiel with ptsd but he refuses to call it anything other than "the curse" and WILL NOT elaborate

The other librarians and eve and jenkins are unaware of the ptsd and are extremely concerned about this "curse" he will sometimes mention having and then immediately moves on from, refusing to explain himself no matter how hard they try