#i think is that thing where we as a society are expected to think that a man can be any age and be immature

[demon-of-side-quest-hell]

by “Flawed” I'm gonna assume you mean a character with flaws addressed by the plot, and not flawed as in poorly handled by the plot for this, but I accept that I could still explode for misinterpreting it.

Anyways Rhyme Ortega, Rhyme Ortega was such a shocking character for me to find that I think is great, At least at the time, I encountered Rhyme right at the start of when I began making a concerted effort to give female characters in media more leeway than I have been conditioned to give them instinctively,

And because of that Rhyme was essentially the first female character that I put alot of brain power into, because she's incredible and when I allowed myself to think about her on the same level as male characters I understood that.

Rhyme is the daughter of the of the highest tier most politically powerful people, and she was raised from birth to one day carry on that legacy, so you can immediately see that she's got a lot of internalized classism, and a lack of understanding of life for people who aren't rich and powerful like her family.

Then she's been made to think that she's allowed to do anything if it's for the betterment of herself or her family including ruin the lives of 4 other people for no other reason than they stood in her way to higher power, and then because she messed up and accidentally got her mom locked in super coma jail, she developed anxieties about letting anyone else but her deal with problems, because she wants to help people so fucking bad, she really really does, so she thinks she's the only possible person to handle any situation and no one else can know what her plans are because everyone else will mess it up

And her dad doesn't even pick up that these are problems, when she steals his magic power he's just like “Fuck you for stealing my power but congrats on being such a girlboss!”

Anyways so because she's the only one allowed to deal with problems she's incredibly closed off to people about her emotions and shit, until when she meets Mini, who Rhyme as part of her own goals in becoming a powerful political figure like her dad expects of her, Rhyme has to bring Mini up from the lower class into the middle class.

I'm trying not to explain the CKC specific systems of society and approximate them to real world society so this is understandable, but the classes aren't based on Money they're essentially castes that once born into you can basically only go down in rank if you fuck up, like really really really badly, but the only way to move from the middle class to upper class is by somehow making someone of the lower class ascend to the middle class (Ascend is the actual term used in CKC)

[Warning the following is based mostly on my headcanon and personal interpretations of the lore and plot of CKC, I'll say when we're back to full canon.]

So to ascend Mini up it's implied by the game that she basically HAS to open up to Mini about herself, because she cannot ever understand how to help Mini if she doesn't allow herself to be vulnerable around Mini.

And so Mini is the first person Rhyme opens up to in YEARS, and she develops feelings for Mini, because Mini is the first person who has ever understood Rhyme, both because Rhyme is the first person Mini has let into her life, but also because they bond over their hatred of their respective parental figures, their distaste for various systems of society, and just general things like media and music and things of that nature.

[Back to 100% Bonafide Canon]

Eventually, Mini rises even further, and is able to be the same class level as Rhyme, and it's at this moment that Rhyme actually asks Mini out and they start dating, and during the time where we see this relationship, it's a very genuinely sweet and fun thing.

Eventually, Mini is "descended", aka, she fucked up big time and got her status in the hierarchy demoted all the way back to the bottom, and what do you think Rhyme does when she sees Mini in this state?

Mini who she personally helped ascend, Mini who she took the initiative to ask out, Mini who is the one who knows Rhyme the most deeply that anyone ever has

Rhyme dumps her ass!!!!!!

Rhyme ain't allowed to be seen dating someone of the lower class!!!!!!!!

But that's the thing

Seen is the operative word.

When we see Rhyme again, and the topic is pressed, she's angry, she tries to make sure people knew that she was the one to make the choice, that she thinks this was indeed the right choice, and it's a fucking lie! She's lying to herself! She's so upset about the loss she explodes, metaphorically, and then, when she sees that Mini has moved on and found someone who won't dump her for the classist bullshit of this society, explodes. literally.

Don't worry she gets better though, and when all is said and done, Rhyme is EVIDENTLY still not over it.

Rhyme hates the fuck out of hanging out with Mini's new friends.

Rhyme is so uncomfortable showing up to events where Mini is because she just wants to avoid it all, she doesn't want to think about Mini, she's content just knowing that Mini is happy and then wallowing alone in her room taking care of instruments, but the thing is, Mini actually understands that Rhyme has like 0 fucking social life, and so Mini invites Rhyme to these things because who else will? Who else is gonna stick their neck out for Rhyme, is vouch for Rhyme's better traits, will hype Rhyme up when she needs it?

[Another "this is my interpretation of canon, but isn't explicitly stated in the text" segment real quick]

Rhyme does her damnedest to try and help people, that's all she ever wants, is to be helpful, she wants to do the "right" thing. I believe in part, Rhyme tries so hard to do whatever is "right" because she wants to work back for every single harm she's done. I think for as confident, snarky, and holier-than-thou she presents herself as, she beats herself up for every single mistake, she knows in her head that it was morally wrong to dump her girlfriend on a whim because she can't be dating someone of low standing, but she thinks that she NEEDS to so she can keep the power she needs to, honestly, do fuck all with because who would've guessed it! The masters tools will never dismantle the masters house!

Rhyme messed up once, while she was a child. Caused her mother to banished away into a prison that no one would free her from. Could they free her if they wanted? Yes. Will they? No. Because Rhyme's mother spoke out, against the establishment, against the hierarchy, against the classism present in society, and covertly at that, and so when Rhyme innocently brought up some of these things to others, simply wanting to know about the situation, wanting people to explain to her why things are, they made an example of Rhyme's mother. Why yes, not even the highest of class people are safe if they pose even a shred of danger to society.

So Rhyme helps maintain society, stands to the side and glances away when she disagrees with how things are ran, firstly because Rhyme as a person of high standing has to uphold the status quo, especially as she has the power to do the opposite, and secondarily, if the system collapses, she will have no excuses for the actions she has already done, and there will no longer be any justifications she can tell herself every night.

And once Mini (and others) destroy the hierarchy, I think Rhyme understands all of that, if she didn't already.

[Personal readings of text over again, can you tell that Rhyme is one of my favorite characters in fiction?]

Thank you to anyone reading this, I have waited for a while to just gush about Rhyme, I think she's underutilized by the series, and that her one episode as the protagonist is the worst episode of the entire series (Not because of Rhyme, Rhyme's the highlight of the episode for me but that should be a given)

STOP this is the feminism checkpoint. you have to comment something you like about a flawed female character. or explode

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin iv x Time!Traveller!reader

Chapter 4

chapter 3 here

“However I have one small request.”

All the men look at each other. “And what might that be?”

She takes a small breath. “Please ensure I only get the appropriate reward I deserve. I do not wish to be flattered by sparkling treasures.”

A higher status would mean destruction to the trust you built with your customers. Not only that, you would be a target among high ranking nobles. 

“Very well.” The king agrees. “I bestow you the title of Dame” He looks with curiosity, trying to think what you’d do with the title. “You shall also receive a small manor where you can reside. I wish you the very best for your new beginning, Lady Y/n.”

Hmm. The title of a female knight was not bad. Only thing was she didn’t do anything knight-worthy. 

Another man speaks up. “We shall provide a physician to learn our nation's medicine. He’s one of the best. I’m sure, combining your country's knowledge with ours will prove successful.”

“Of course.” Yea right. The knowledge of a highschool graduate would totally help curing some ancient king. She wasn’t hopeful about his condition.

She bowed again, signalling she was to leave the room. King Baldwin nodded and the lady exited the room. The moment she did, dozens of documents were dropped onto her hands, all about her title and the new land under her name. The king’s bedroom door closed, while two people emerged out of the pillar in front. 

“How did it go?” The guard who escorted you, didn’t look as stoic as before. No, He was worried.

“Well… apparently I’m a dame now.” Y/n announces, almost dazed from the sudden shock of it all.

“Wonderful news! You’re the only female knight of the country.” A female servant explains. “Has his majesty given you any other reward?”

“A manor.” Your voice trails, taking one of the documents. “In the middle of Jerusalem's agricultural fields by the looks of it. Honestly the travel time is perfect from the manor to the castle.”

“Wait what?” She asked abruptly. “Sorry.” The servant clears her throat. “Can I inquire why, my lady?”

She sighs. “I’ve been put incharge of treating his majesty.” Seriously, all you did was feed oranges and now you’re in charge of curing the country’s most important man.

“That’s…Not what I thought would happen.” The guard seems even more worried, though she can’t pinpoint why. “By any chance, have you been granted a physician to inquire about his majesty’s illness?”

“Not quite, I’ve been provided a physician to learn about your country's medical procedures, but I’m sure they’ll also tell me about the king's ailments. Why do you ask?”

“Oh no.” The woman looks at the knight pitying the new noble.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well it’s just that…” She gulps. “My lady, you’ve probably been assigned a man named Omar Jahid. He was one of the physicians gifted by king Salahuddin. However he is an egoistic, self-centered, haughty Bicot” A nerve pops up on her forehead.

“I-It seems you speak from experience…” The lady smiles crooked. “However, I don't expect much. Almost every professional in their field has some form of anger issue. Take Gordon Ramsay for cooking.”

The guard looks confused. “Who?”

“A famous person from my nation.”

Frustratingly enough, the Lady was only given two weeks to adopt  into her new life. “Here are the books you requested.” The young girl with freckles hands them to you. “Thank you Margaret.” The girl gives a polite smile and urgently resumes other tasks.

‘Quite the hard worker you are.’ Screen reads from a distance. ‘I’m sure your basic knowledge you received from the modern era will be more than enough.’

The Dame soon came to realise that was not true. While searching for servants to hire, she had learned a lot about this world. The class system, the law and even some basic etiquette. She soon came to the realisation that although this era lacked technological advancements, it was still a functioning and organised society. Unlike how TV shows portrayed the people of this era too, didn’t accept social standards. Yes, women did get the same amount of education as that for a man, but only for nobility. Yes, slavery does exist but so does equality in its own way.

“I need to meet the gardener now.” She gets up from her seat. “Let's see what he's done.”

As you walk (and screen hovers), the feeling of anxiety still runs behind your mind. That physician, seems to have a reputation of scaring disciples away and you were not quite sure you could take him head on. Secondly, you’re an atheist present in a country of christianity, although you can make up an excuse since you’re clearly not from Jerusalem. Your spice stall is gaining a profit on the good side. It seems that people have realised your stall is one of the few that sells unadulterated goods.

 Both dame and screen arrive at the garden, covered with flowers of soft and vibrant textures. “Crispin.” She calls out one of the boys present. “M’Lady!” The young man with brown hair gets up from his knees, ignoring the task of trimming bushes. She gracefully asks, “Where is Thomas?”

“He’s somewhere out there, near the trees.” Crispin points.

“Thank you.” She leaves the area. While walking towards Thomas, the head gardener of the manor, she sees him instructing a few people. “Use the fertilizer near the blueberry patches.” He says with disgust. “And water those…things. Whatever they are.” He aggressively points at the orange trees.

“Thomas.” Y/n calls. He seizes his work and turns. “Lady Y/n.”

“How are the trees?” She smiles.

“Look at it yourself M’Lady. ” Thomas looks high up, gazing at the coconut trees.

“Perfect.” Her ecstatic mood brightens the servants around. “Can someone please grab one?” She looks hopeful. Surely enough, someone does take one of it down.

“Thank you.” You look at Thomas. “Although it looks like a giant nut, it’s actually a fruit. Cracking it will give us the sweet water present inside.”

“Do you want to try some?” The Dame suggests. No wonder, he was taken aback by great shock.

“M’lady I don’t know if you’re tryin to test me or remind me of my position, but I'll decline.” It came out a little gruff than he expected.

“I just need the shell” She hurriedly replies. “I can’t drink all that’s in here. Please help me out.”

“...”

A few minutes later

“It's actually not that bad.” He remarks, surprised. “Do these plants grow in your hometown M’Lady? ”

“You can say that.” She takes a sip from her copper cup.

“I can see why someone would want the juice, but why the shell?”

“I think it’ll be of use later on…” She looked at the coconut husk being turned to ash.

‘Are you sure about this?’ Screen follows you as you walk. ‘You could just buy some antifungal cream or something’  I’m pretty sure he’ll be impressed.'

“And what if he asks how I made it?” You shut the creature. “I might have ruined the future just by introducing a fruit, I’m not taking any risks. From now on, that online store is just a hub for creating money in an emergency.” You stood still at the gate of the majestic house.

“And how may I address you to Lord Omar Jahid?”

“Lady Y/n L/n.”

“I see.” The guard replies. “He’s been awaiting you. Please come.” He shows inside, while the other guards open the giant door.

After waiting in the drawing room for what seemed like 10 minutes, Omar arrived, dressed simple but elegantly. You waste no time standing up. “Lord Omar.”

“Lady Y/n”. He slyly looks at you top to bottom, judgingly. A realisation occurs. “You brought no servants?”

“I didn’t want to burden them. They already have difficulties adjusting to a new manor and changing their schedule for a mere visit might be hectic for them.”

Mere visit? He was a royal physician for God's sake. Was she illiterate or was it her way of telling him she does not value him? When he got the news that a woman, an untrained commoner, was incharge of treating the king he was flabbergasted. 

“Unbelievable.” He chuckles under his breath. “Tell me, You haven’t come empty handed have you?”

“Of course not. I have come up with a few ways to reduce the scars of leprosy but I’ve seem that—”

“Wait.” He interrupted. “Have you tested it out?”

“No…” Y/n slowly replies. “I thought we could test it out on another patient but…”

“Yes?”

“The method might come off… unconventional.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, most methods are usually like that. Tell me, what is it?”

“...Molded bread.”

Omar blinked rapidly. “So your way of treating leprosy is to make the king eat stale bread?” You can feel that insulting tone sticking onto your skin like honey.

“Actually it’s to place the molded bread on the affected areas of skin.” Dead silence enveloped the room.

“Okay that—” He sighs. But his eyes brighten in a moment. “It could work.” You can’t exactly pinpoint how, but there seems to be something more fishy than hope in his eyes.

“Come with me, Madame.” He paces out of the room fastly, and she follows. 

“Where are we going?”

“To the Domus Leprosorium. Wear this cloth mask.” He takes it out of a servant's pocket he was standing next to. 

“B-But I don’t even have stale bread!”

“That’s fine, I’m very much confident they have it”

Upon leaving the house, both enter separate carriages. ‘Seriously? Molded bread? You expect THAT to work?’ Screen pops up. 

“It’s an early stage antibiotic.” She answers, not even looking at the inanimate being, trying her best to focus on the physician’s carriage seeing him read a book. The ride went silently from then on but her eyes still lingered on Omar. 

Quickly, the vehicle came to a halt. “That was fast.” You remark.

The Dame wastes no time in getting down, almost tripping while doing so. Omar only waits till you stand up and dashes into the hospital.

While the both walk, the Dame sees countless patients bedridden. She knows leprosy is not a disease that transfers quickly in physical contact but is still very grateful for the mask.

The two nobles quickly reach a well-ventilated room that has plenty of sunlight. It almost looked like an apothecary, without the herb cabinets. There, she notices slices of bread, all molded up, neatly arranged.

“This is what you meant right?” He points. “I shall fill your forms stating your medical trials using this. Come let’s—”

“Stop.” You affirm boldly. “It doesn’t make sense.” Omar frowns.

“It makes perfect sense”, now hurry–”

“You were so repulsed working with a commoner not some time ago, but now you’re so eager?” He freezes.

The Dame crosses her arms. “You know. You know this is how ancient Egyptians treated infected cuts and scrapes. In fact, every royal physician knows about this treatment, but don’t dare to use it.” She takes a step forward while he takes one back.

“You…You’re using me as a human shield.”

“What?” He pretends to be confused. “Your ideas are preposterous.”

“You’re scared. No, everyone’s scared they will be punished if they try this. After all, His majesty is not your true master.” He gulps.

“If the method works, which it partially will, you’ll kill me. And if it doesn’t, you’ll frame me for treason. After all, nobody cares if the king’s suffering ends, they just want to profit from it.” You take one of the slices of bread and stare.

“The physicians get to keep their job, and the Muslims get to keep this land.” The last part comes out laced with anger.

“You and every other physician, are spies sent by Salahuddin.” You calmly state.

“Don’t you dare utter his name—”

“Why do you care?” The Dame clenches her hand, scrunching the slice. “You’re an atheist anyway. I don’t think a man such as you will respect a head of a religion if you don’t believe in God in the first place.”

 He sighs, frowning. “How did you know?” 

“No Muslim would willingly enter Christian land if they don’t even have a proper place to pray. I don’t know about the other physicians but you certainly don’t seem bothered about it at all.”

This didn’t occur in your original timeline. Your presence has completely changed everything. Even with your limited knowledge in history, you knew this isn’t how Baldwin dies.

“My nation is currently trying this very method to cure leprosy. Although, I can openly admit about this while you can’t.” You sit on the marble table. “Quite funny, this geopolitics. Saying my nation's name might avoid persecution and give you an escape from this lifestyle.” He catches your idea quickly.

“Spare my life. Take the credit. Use my nation's name to cure him, I’ll even provide you with proper evidence it is, in fact, from my nation.”

“How are you so sure it’ll work?”

“It will because it has before.” She stated him dead in the eyes. “Go on, no need to conduct trial runs. Test it on his Majesty using your own name. It won’t cure him completely but will decrease its spreading. However if you even think about harming his majesty I shall strip you of everything you have.” You lean in closer. “You have a son and a daughter waiting for you at home. Think about it.”

As you storm off the hospital, screen pops up ‘How did you know all of that?’

“I bribed his servants.”

‘Really? That simple?’

“...And gossip with the maids of my manor…and the castle.”

“I can’t believe he actually told my name. That too moments before he quit.” You sit on your bed, shocked from it all.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t expect him to. Your name can’t be ignored if your country is mentioned y’know?’

“I know but still whatifigetputinadungeorsoemthing. ”

‘What?’

“Whatifigetputina—-”

“Girl you okay? If you want to calm your nerves I can access Ao3 or something but please don’t read anything other than fluff this time.” It recalls the war flashbacks from a few days ago.

“NothankyouscreenI'mfine.”

‘Clearly NOT. I’m not good with his emotional stuff. Call Margaret or someone.’ It pops away. Heeding to its advice, she rings the bell in her room and Margeret arrives.

“Yes my lady?” The girl arrives graciously, awaiting orders.

“HelpmeMargeretIdon’tknowwhattodo.”

“Ah.” she realises. “There’s no need to be nervous my lady, this is not the first time you’re meeting the king so I don’t understand the need for the nervousness.”

True. But the last time you were dragged by crusaders immediately to the castle. Now you were given time to think, spiking your anxiety.

“Still…” You pout.

She giggles. “My lady, you're acting more childish than me.”

“What would you do if you were to meet the king?” You reason, hugging the pillow

“Oh I’d faint on sight.” She accepts the truth. “What kind of man is he?”

“I only met him once.” You look dead-panned.

“More than me. Tell me, how was he to you?”

Memories flowed like a  calm river in your brain. The moment passed fast. The only two constants you could remember were his blue eyes and your weirdly fluttering heartbeat. 

“He was kind. Even though he was sick, he was level headed.” The dame chuckles.

“I remember when I was sick when I was eight.” The ginger replies.  I don’t remember much but It was deadly. According to my brother, I was the crankiest during then.”

“It takes true strength to be kind during the toughest times…” You trail off your voice. Margaret notices your quelled down anxiety, but lack of uncertainty. 

“Would you like to have your favorite dish as dinner?” She suggests and you nod. “I’ll inform the chef and prepare your dress for tomorrow.” 

As she leaves the room, you call her once more. “Yes M’lady?”

“Thank you…for the words.”

The girl’s smile radiates the whole room. “Your welcome, M'lady.”

Surprisingly, the carriage ride didn’t cause you car sickness. “Gerald”. You call him.

“Yes?” It was the same guard who escorted you before, carrying out the same duties as before

“How is his majesty?” You question.

“Quite alright now. His health has drastically improved due to your help. Although I must say I was perplexed when I found out the method of treatment.”

You chuckle. “It is unusual, but the results show.”

“I was informed you shall be meeting his majesty at a lounging area and not in his bedroom like last time. You need not be nervous. It'll be the same as the previous encounter, just surrounded by his physicians, that's all.”

“...Thank you Gerald.” Was it really that obvious?

A nice conversation lasted inside the carriage. Both talked about the mundane aspects of their life - like the comedy her servants perform while he related it to his work life. This small period of bliss lasted for a short span. It didn’t take long for the both to reach the castle.

The guard got down first to help the lady, and she graciously accepted. The pathway was almost the same as the last time you entered the castle but with two extra rights. Briefly, both stood next to a luxurious door. You waited anxiously as another set of guards opened them and didn’t waste a second to enter.

The inside looked like a living room. And king Baldwin sat at the centre, next to his physicians.

“Your majesty.” The noble curtsies.

“My lady.” The king allows her to relax. “I cannot thank you enough. You and your efforts have tremendously helped me and my nation.” He takes a breath through his metal mask. “Tell me, do you wish for anything? Do not feel shy, speak your heart.”

“Thank you. I have a wish.” You look down. “This wish isn’t particularly for me but will help all. ”

“Go on.” He leans a bit closer to you.

Alright, here it goes. “Please dismiss your personal physicians…forever.”

All eyes turned towards you. It felt as if you were stabbed by a thousand swords all over your body. The Dame needed to give the king an explanation for her actions but her fear paralysed her entire body. 

‘Oh God. This is the end. I knew I shouldn’t have done that. NOW I'M GONNA DIE.’ Her thoughts are interrupted. 

“It seems it's no longer a secret.” He sighs. “If a foreigner knows, everyone in the nation knows.” He calls. “Guards, seize everyone in the room other than the lady.”

Someone yells .“Your Majesty! We are representatives of Malik Salahuddin! If you harm us, he will not stand idly by.”

“That's enough. I’ve bared your presence for too long and gave Salahuddin too much comfort.” Baldwin stared directly in your eyes. “Thank you for bringing me back to my senses, physically and mentally.”

“You knew???” You screeched.

“I am not stupid enough to have none of my own countrymen as physicians.” He turned and watched all the men being dragged away. “They informed me. I thought keeping his spies by my side would make my enemy feel as if he had control, but I failed to notice the grasp was tight enough to stop my recovery.” 

“But even my actual physicians didn’t have a clue about the method you used for me.” He looks at you again with the corner of his eyes peeking through the mask. 

“According to the public, I have no physicians as of the moment.” Baldwin gets up. ‘Lady Y/n L/n, I hereby give you the task of finding new physicians for me. You may use all of my resources. But until then…’ He comes closer.

“You are responsible for treating me.” He smiles under his mask.

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

"Allies should be okay with hearing hard truths that we have been suffering through for years, because if a child has to experience it, they as an adult can take the time to understand it with their adult brain and their adult emotions, and if they cannot handle that, I shouldn't have to be okay with handling their feelings gently."

and

"Sometimes we go too hard on allies because they're the only person who benefits from the problem who will listen to us, and the anger that we have carried from being wronged for years should not be put solely put on the shoulders of people trying to help us, and they should not have to be okay with being mistreated with the same hatred that people have aimed at us."

Can and should coexist actually.

[thewardenisonthecase]

at the risk of sounding controversial, the only reason people are fine and understand why Alistair is immature is because he's a man.

[shoulael]

What was most interesting to me was the secondary story of how generative AI is accelerating the rot already extant in tertiary education, as seen in these two excerpts:

... for her high-school English class — the last time she wrote an essay unassisted. "Honestly," she continued, "I think there is beauty in trying to plan your essay. You learn a lot. You have to think, Oh, what can I write in this paragraph? Or What should my thesis be? But she'd rather get good grades. "An essay with ChatGPT, it's like it just gives you straight up what you have to follow. You just don't really have to think that much." [Emphasis mine]

Pupils don't want good grades ab initio, they want good grades because the system values good grades, and the greater system doesn't really care how they were attained.

... [the departmental] stance was, ‘Well, it’s a slippery slope, and we can’t really prove they’re using AI,’” Williams said. “I was told to grade based on what the essay would have gotten if it were a 'true attempt at a paper.' So I was grading people on their ability to use ChatGPT.”

The “true attempt at a paper” policy ruined Williams’s grading scale. If he gave a solid paper that was obviously written with AI a B, what should he give a paper written by [someone who actually wrote their own paper but submitted, in his words, “a barely literate essay”?] [Emphasis mine].

As someone who has taught for a bit: what? This is horrible advice for how an essay should be graded!

In both these cases, the system as it exists — even before generative AI — does not value actual engagement and learning. It values what have been determined to be markers. The piece very clearly makes this point:

The ideal of college as a place of intellectual growth, where students engage with deep, profound ideas, was gone long before ChatGPT. The combination of high costs and a winner-takes-all economy had already made it feel transactional, a means to an end. (In a recent survey, Deloitte found that just over half of college graduates believe their education was worth the tens of thousands of dollars it costs a year, compared with 76 percent of trade-school graduates.) In a way, the speed and ease with which AI proved itself able to do college-level work simply exposed the rot at the core. “How can we expect them to grasp what education means when we, as educators, haven’t begun to undo the years of cognitive and spiritual damage inflicted by a society that treats schooling as a means to a high-paying job, maybe some social status, but nothing more?” Jollimore wrote in a recent essay. “Or, worse, to see it as bearing no value at all, as if it were a kind of confidence trick, an elaborate sham?"

Look, as someone who taught grad school at a private college in India —where the state of education is FAR worse than in USA — college education, the idealized version, is dead, desecrated, defenestrated. Generative AI has just brought the hollow shell crahing down in heap, rather than the eventual collapse that would have occurred without it.

The uses and consequences of generative AI are just a symptom. The rot is systemic and runs deep — an overhaul of the system is the only thing I can think of that can address it.

Of course, Universities could start with doing away with the double standard of frowning upon generative AI use by students while simutaneously promoting its use by admin and faculty, but ... they are profit-driven ventures now.

Generative AI has destroyed academia.

In the next few decades we’re going to have thousands of people who don’t really know anything, and can’t do any critical thinking.

[bichitosdecolores]

i was making a silly post about the book i’m reading and it got out of control. long text down there

i’m a genetics at heart and i really like to do that annoying science thing where i try to find a logical explanation to everything. yet i was reading my book (about genes) and the author got to a part where he discusses the genetic link of gender identity and identity in general and for some reason i dont like it? i mean, i agree. everything is genetically determined (or influenced). and it makes lot of sense right? the cascade of molecular signals orchestrated by genes is so large and complex we barely begin to understand it. so it makes sense to think that a change in some part of that chain may cause my genetically female genes to fail to signal binary biological femaleness causing me to not have the identity or physiology of a female. but the thought of it makes me feel weird?.

i have always been really curious about the biochemistry and genetics of transgender people but i have never actually made any research on it partially because i feel scared that by finding any “true” biological reason behind my identity it will be less valid or something.

genetics are so weird because they are us and they are everything. they are inescapable and all controlling (almost? kinda), yet they are so abstract and we are so limited by our ability to visualize and understand them that we end up having to talk about them in political, moral amd cultural terms. like gender and identity and illness or disability or violence. but those things are so marked by our interaction with our environment and our need to categorize things that we end up taking a lot of unrelated meaning with them when we try to understand something so uninterested in us like genes and anatomy. it’s weird. but it’s not like we can do much to help it can we. am i making any sense now? i love genetics but god they are a difficult area to understand in not science terms. and the history of genetics is so so messy and complicated and cruel at times. and we haven’t even started to play with genes yet. i’m happy gene therapy and transgenics and crisp technology are so regulated. i don’t know how much longer we can week ignoring them for though.

[coyoxxtl]

people who still post about “fiction not reality” or anything of the sort have Got to stop using stories about murder to compare to any other kind of “dark” fiction

murder is solely a physical act, you cannot murder through fiction, that can’t be said for shit like pedophilia tho?

[hel7l7]

Are you anti self-dx entirely?

To be honest... I don't know. There's so much nuance to make on the entire subject...

And everything I say about this feels wrong. I just hope everyone is careful with it all.

( Edit: half of the tags on this got deleted bcs apparently there's a max tags you can add... anyway enjoy the ramble if there are any more questions please ask them bcs I do not want misunderstandings or anything ;))

[emodennis]

why did i decide to take a job at an extremely active and sport-focused camp this summer.

[mangled-by-disuse]

for some reason while slightly-delirious-levels-of-tired last night i found myself just. obsessing over how we never ornament shit any more.

like, okay. the thing that sparked this was my partner's flatmate's laptop stand. it is a very basic laptop stand - it's a metal X-frame, and it has little grips on the top ends of the front, so each end is kinda like

(shh i'm still very tired i don't feel like getting my tablet out)

and I was just sitting there like... man. when else in HISTORY, when else in THE ENTIRE ARTISTIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD, would we consistently be overcoming the urge to turn that weird little grip into a carved hand? a bird with open wings? a talon, perchance?

and then looking around the flat like... this is not a nasty flat, it's not badly-decorated or anything, and the same is true of my house, but where are the ornamentations?

By ornamentations, I don't mean "things that look nice", and frankly I actually love a lot of unornamented furniture that's just a Nice Shape or just really well-made. but at some point we also lost the art of - not adding things, exactly, but integrating little decorative flourishes into the things we make and own. carving floral designs into the front of your bookshelves. embroidering your work shirts. painting little designs on your doorframes and your window shutters. carving monstrances and vines and silly little guys into the archways of your grand architecture. putting a cheeky little hand carving on the laptop stand you use for work.

tbh I think there's some answers to be found in this in my boy William Morris' writing from nearly 200 years ago, because so much of the Arts & Crafts movement was based on recognising this loss. How, as industrialisation and mass production reshape design, we move away from artisans proving their chops with little tricks of the trade, because they now have to Add Value in a way that justifies spending ten times more on something that does the same thing. How, with cottage industries hamstrung and the working classes no longer having the long winter nights to whittle spoons and weave cloth, individuals no longer tend to make the things they use. How patents and copyright trickle down to a culture where originality is found only in structural difference, in the shape and the silhouette and the things that can be noticed on first glance.

and the weird thing is, I like unornamented goods. I am a dyed-in-the-wool English Quaker and highly ornamented styles are not at all my natural habitat. the baroque gives me a fucking headache. the first thing I did when I moved into this house was be like "i am getting these overwhelming patterns and squiggly things OUT."

BUT

i also remember as a kid being absolutely enamoured of Robert "Mouseman" Thompson's carpentry. he was a local(-ish, North Yorkshire) carpenter who made furniture and also did a bunch of lecterns and rood screens for churches, stuff like that. And every piece he did, he had a signature that he added:

he was very Arts & Crafts inspired, and you can tell. his furniture on the whole was pretty simple, clean lines and carved channels. but from the 1920s until he died in 1955 he always put a mouse on his work somewhere.

but this is the ornamentation I think I miss in my life. these cheeky little touches. the mouse climbing up the altar rail. the lion feet on chairs and tables. the flowers carved out of a bookcase. braid trimming on upholstery. painted vines climbing a windowframe. stonemasons making shapes in a lintel:

not huge and dramatic and overwhelming. just... artisans, having fun. making things look special, because it's neat and because it's a way to show off and because they can.

idk. I have no conclusion. I just have an image of that laptop stand in lacquered wood with little hands and feet, like a million bookstands and folding stools and the like which were made pre-industrially, and I think I just want to live in a world where that would be. not a statement? not a one-off item?

where everything wasn't so utilitarian and so plain.

i guess what i'm saying is: i wish as a culture we made more stupid little creative choices to make the world we live in fun?

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

main masterlist

[mrchoppedslefthand]

[SPOILERS] Homicipher Is Actually Romantic, Convince Me Otherwise [Analysis/Opinion] [SFW]

Word count: 3,332

Edit: 11/7/2024

[Feel free to skip to the last objective "Individual route discussion + what made it romantic" if you want to get straight to the point]

Homicipher is truthfully a romantic (or platonic) game. It is a game that has to be looked at from a different perspective when it comes to love/romance. A game where you have to take in consideration of the characters and the nature of their 'other world'. Today's post will discuss into what I believe made Homicipher an oddly, but romantic game, despite its shortcoming and abrupt ends.

⚠️[MAJOR LORE/CHARACTER ROUTE SPOILERS] ⚠️

Discussion Objectives:

Definition of Love & how it plays into Homicipher

The nature of the 'other world' and ghosts

Individual route discussion + what made it romantic (thoughts)

What Is Love & How Does It Play Into Homicipher?

Love has many layers of definition and associations. Maybe, that is why some may deem Homicipher to be "unromantic" and some disagree on that thought. It also varies based on the type of content/exposure you had consume in the category of love [whether romantic or platonic]. Socially, from a common standpoint, love is a strong attachment or affection for someone. Often from a social standpoint associated with dates, affection, and intimacy. However, love is always changing, since it is a social script on what its suppose to be, and changes as society progresses. Some notions stay the same but some begin to change (just like how language and certain concepts begin to change in the other world, a different society from our own). For the sake of a "true" definition of love. I will be using the definition offered by the Oxford Language Dictionary. So, what is love?

Love as a noun is...

"An intense feeling of deep affection"

"A great interest and pleasure in something"

"A person or thing that one loves"

Love as a verb is...

"Feel deep affection for (someone)"

"Like or enjoy very much"

Not long after its release there had been a fair number of comments/reviews criticizing Homicipher for its lack of romance. This claim is NOT entirely wrong. From the expectations of a "normal" Otome/dating sim it doesn't necessarily meet the requirements because of its lack of intimacy, affection and interest from a HUMAN/SOCIETAL perspective. We must remember that romance/love does not necessarily equate to kissing, hand holding, and intimacy especially considering that these are the HUMAN (societal) views on what romance/love is. A concept that had become lost in the 'other world'. So how can we call Homicipher romantic if we have to cross out the influence of our society? The answer is that we can't fully avoid it, HOWEVER, we must be open to a different perspective of what 'their' version of love is (platonic love/or romantic). No matter how lacking, dense, twisted and grotesque the moments we have spent with these ghosts are. In some shape and form it CAN equate itself to love (platonic/ or romantic). I think a lot of people forget that time itself can be equate to some complicated level of love. The fact you spend time with someone, and it develops to something further for worse or better, something that even love may not be able to name, is what this game demonstrates.

Homicipher has a consistent theme, the loss of truth, the acceptance of ignorance and the concept of eternity. Which shockingly is where the romance comes from. When we allow ourselves to rot in that world. When we ignore the exit and choose to stay, is where the romance comes through. Love is complicated. What can I say?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The Nature of the 'Other World' & Ghosts

Alot of the ghosts we encounter can be friendly, but also just as deadly. We hear it from almost all of the casts warning or discussing about how dangerous a lot of the ghosts (including themselves) roam in this world, and in different endings, succumb to this danger ourselves. The longer we stay in this world, we soon start to become no different. As we, a human, begin to slowly transform into a different entity. We begin to react more violently (though it can be argued that since our MC is a serial killer, she might have just been violent and cruel in general). When angered, or things start not to go her way, she gets filled with bloodlust and takes it out on who she's with. Killing is a common thing to do in this world, especially when experiencing anger, sadness and even boredom. The concept of death is a little complicated as they can easily regenerate themselves back to "life". As the game progresses, we learn that some of these ghosts cannot grasp certain concepts (such as love), remember their own name and self, and don't have exact words (sometimes none) for items.

When sometimes even confessing that you like some of the ghosts they question you, and state that they cannot understand you or that feeling (platonic/ or romantic). We are in a setting that is beyond the mortal realm, there aren't any exactly "ideal" dates in a place different from the moral realm... so you're going to be stuck in a scary place, having a scary "date".

However just because they cannot understand the concept of love, doesn't meant that they can't feel it. It is something that the body may still feel, and the mind not being able to put an identity to that feeling or even situation, since meanings and concepts get lost within this realm. The fact that we are allowed to spend an eternity in this realm, with our handsome casts of ghosts. Is oddly and sadly romantic. For Mr. Crawling it is his devotion and loyalty to you, it is how he worries and cares for you, it is his affection and attempts to soothe you. For Mr. Silvair it is his care for you (as research of course lol), your usefulness (which is why he is attracted to you), but even then, one of his endings he keeps you as a head, when you had become useless to him. For Mr. Gap he finds you intriguing, he wants to play and follow you around, always asking for parts of you with consent, loves to brag about himself to you. For Mr. Chopped it is his want to rely on you, to feel safe with you, to protect him, to spend time with him. For Mr. Hood it his willingness to help you for an eternity, to roam with you forever, keeping you away from danger. For Mr. Machete it is the fact you both spend an eternity searching for a home together, to suffer boredom together, to suffer within each other's presence. For Mr. Scarletella it is his obsession for you and his willingness to spend an eternity with you.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Individual Routes + What Made Them Romantic

[Not in any particular order]

Mr. Crawling

If I had to rank who had the most "romantic" route overall, it would be Mr. Crawling. With the definition usage of love from the Oxford dictionary, verb and noun he checks all the list. Not only that, but we spend time with him the most out of all the other casts. He was the very first ghost we meet (briefly in the beginning) and got stuck with. We are like a baby bird imprinting on him because we saw him first and spent time with him the most, so of course we might feel the most attached to him compared to the others. As the game progresses Mr. Crawling doesn't fail to let us know that he cares for us and our safety warning us of the dangers that come and explaining how to navigate our way around danger. He expresses his worries when we disappeared. He seems to have some concept of love (platonic/ or romantic) as he admittedly tells us that he likes us and ask us if we like him. He expresses how he wants to follow and protect us. He also has so many cute scenes! Scenes where he pats our head, scenes where we lay together, chat a lot together. He is devoted and loyal to us, never harming us even once.

We even get a scene where he gets jealous when we called Mr. Chopped cute with the cat headband! So, he also makes an attempt to be cute too! We are always together with him, and that makes us BOTH happy. Although we don't have our traditional romantic dates like shopping, movie night. We get a bed scene and get to take him back home with us.

There are many types of romance. Platonic and romantic. You the reader/player is allowed to view it however you want. The game does not punish you for the lack of interactions with the casts. You just end up missing out on certain scenes/moments with them is all. However, for the sake of this post I will be making attempts to talk about the romantic aspect (but platonic romance can also be put into place).

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Silvair

lt's apparent that Mr. Silvair keeps us as research material and confines us in his lair. He is interested in our body, and also interested in returning our mind/intellect back to its original state. It is this interest in us that makes him "love" us. Does confinement and research count as love? Well...maybe not in terms of human definition but in the Mr. Silvair way, it's the closest thing you can get to romantic (or platonic). Afterall, the concept of love has become lost in this world.

I believe he still has some attachment to us, because in the ending A Head's Life, he still keeps you as a companion along with Mr. Chopped. He claims that you are no longer useful/capable but that it is okay, as long as danger is no longer here. When you choose to ask him why he did what he did and ask if he likes you, he tells you it was for research and that love is something he cannot understand. He also doesn't understand why you get so angry when he helped you return your intellect back. He still though has some sort of concept of empathy, because in his route when you choose to kill him and hide yourself away. He comes follow you and expresses that he's sorry and tells you a little about himself. He allows you free will, at this point, allowing you to leave him or stay with him.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Gap

Mr. Gap always wants a piece of us, literally. Why does he? Because it's just for fun. The most interaction we get with him is through the multiple crevices within this world and the short route he gets in chapter 4. He takes but sometimes may give. However, he doesn't fail to be thoughtful. It's hilarious how in chapter 4 when he offers us a crowbar in exchange for your heart, you can just smack him for it with no consequences. He also likes to brag about himself to you which honestly is a little cute. With his ending Return, we only have him left in the 'other world'. Our comfort lies with him, although he may be a little annoying, he is the only one we have left. We maybe have become a little codependent on him, but maybe he likes that?

God his annoyed/disgusted face is so hilarious, do it again Mr. Gap! He seems to stick around with us mainly just for funsies and being nosy, and honestly, he is so real for that. But it seems he likes to stay around with us at least. In the return end he is with us, and continues to stay lurking, perhaps watching over us until he is needed. Quite handy am I right? Haha.

He is depicted as quite the gentleman, but also just as fun and teasing. There are times where he does help you with no charge, such as barging into his hole (the face he makes in that scene is hilarious). Again, when presented with beating him for your crowbar, he gets a little upset but, honestly still helps you out. He probably thinks violence is funny which is why he constantly still teases you by asking to take away your body parts. It's just too fun!

Someone had brought up to my attention that Mr.Gap tends to ask for parts that can be easy to part with as we progress. Asking for our feet, legs, and fingers instead, when he seems to still clearly prefer the heart over the other parts. He adjusts his request when he realizes we won’t give our heart.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Chopped

Mr. Chopped is just a head; how can he possibly be or have anything romantic? Well, not necessarily to the level of Mr. Crawling but, we get to have a few small moments with him and spend some time with him. Since he is just a head, he can't help but need to rely on others. Of course, he has to be selectively about it because falling in the wrong hands devastates him.

Mr. Chopped when he gets forced into playing with the deer child, he seems happy to see a familiar face and calls us out to help him. Our poor baby was in trouble!

His ending head hunt is tragically sad but also bittersweet. MC cares so much about Mr. Chopped that she spends an eternity as an entity searching for a lost head, searching for Mr. Chopped who she failed to rescue.

During his own special route Mr. Chopped does his best to help us, but there is only so much a head can do. To make up for his lack of body though, he seems to be more expressive with his mouth and emotions. We get to take him to get a haircut and wash his hair. This seems pretty date like to me. Although our time was abrupt and short with Mr. Chopped. It makes me happy that we get this small, cute scene with him, which makes him much more lovable.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Hood

Mr. Hood protects you from harm, and also heeds your commands. He also carries you around. He means no harm and is there to guide. He cares for your safety and seems to dislike anything dangerous or threatening towards him and others that he protects.

At the end of his route, he states how often you get in danger and takes you with him, telling you that he must protect you since you asked him to (referring to an earlier scenario when you asked him to stay with you, when you reunited with Mr. Crawling and the others, but he leaves). So I would assume he would always be by your side now eternally staying together and protecting you from danger when needed. How cute! Some people are into that. But personally, for me Mr. Hood felt more like a father/brother to me. Maybe it was because he was always willing to guide us? But some people are into the brotherly/fatherly type of men, and hey I don't judge.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Machete

At first, I did not see the appeal to Mr. Machete, he seemed like a ghost that killed for boredom and most of the time we just followed him around aimlessly...WELL, after playing his route and letting it soak in my brain. That is entirely the whole point of his character. He is a ghost that had become bored because he had too much time on his hands and continues to search for his home. He is our tsundere dummy macho ghost, and honestly, I love that about him. He could've killed us again like how he tried earlier, but after that first attempt, he reluctantly allows us to follow him. It's funny how much he runs away if the odds are against him, and when he mocks us it's even more hilarious. Mr. Machete likes us if we are strong opponent for him, he even expresses that he thinks we are fun and likes us when we defeat Mr. Hugeface on our own.

Not going to lie, I fell for Mr. Machete right here. We were low on blood, and he just slices his hand, FEEDING us HIS BLOOD. Like OMG that was so hot, he opens our mouth forceful, and we drink his blood. He somewhat cares about us, to be doing all of that for us. After that we get a timed choice to stall or follow him. When you choose to stall he pauses with you and asks if you're okay and to catch up with him. For someone who had been reluctant and annoyed at us for following him, took a moment of his time to wait for you. He WANTED you to tag along with him. We then venture on with him aimlessly searching for his and our home. Torturing each other with our presences. But maybe, just maybe, they can slowly become that home together that they were searching for.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Scarletella

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. At first, he appears to be just any ghost that wants to attack us. It took me a while to warm up to him because of so little we knew about him. I thought he wanted to take our name for fun/or collection, but then it's revealed that he knows us. That he harbors some sort of love and obsession for us and believes that we love him because of all the blood and bodies we "offered" him. In a twisted way, this situation is a cute and romantic misunderstanding. Mr. Scarletella fell in love with us for providing him many blood and bodies. He wants us to spend an eternity with him. He WANTS to spend an eternity with us. He invites us to this other world because perhaps he wants us to become a ghostly being just like him, or maybe he wants to have easier access to us (since his myth that he only appears on rainy days) to meet us. Although we didn't get to have as many interactions with him, that is what makes this love toxic. It is a parasocial love, he fell in love with us from afar. When you piece everything together with your dictionary the words he proposes to you sound like wedding vows when you give your name to him. Which make it all so more lovely, even if he takes our soul away.

(My translation/interpretation of the scene, where he asks for your name)

Chapter 2, Scene 24

Scarletella: "You found your name...?"

Scarletella: "Teach me your name." (ARF ARF WRARF)

Scarletella: "I want you." (YES PLEASE)

Scarletella: "Will you give your name?" (OF COURSE)

Scarletella: "Your name?" (👁️👄👁️)

*You give him your name here*

Scarletella: "I have your name."

Scarletella: "I have obtained you." (YES YOU DID, COME TAKE ME)

Scarletella: "Let's leave together." (ARF ARF WRARFFFFFFFF)

Scarletella: "I love you"

Scarletella: "And you love me."

Scarletella: "You gave it to me...Thank you" (I'LL GIVE YOU IT ALL)

Scarletella: "Forever/eternally together..." (YES SIR)

Scarletella: "Together." (ARF ARF WRARRF ARFA)

He is quite the romancer hehe. It seems like Mr. Scarletella has some form of concept when it comes to love, which is to be together forever, even if you end up as a blood pool. Together is together.

I find it interesting how his two endings: Scarletella and Scarlet Rain parallels each other so well. In the Scarletella ending, we (mc unknowingly) give our consent to being together forever with Mr. Scarletella, but we are still alive. When MC wakes up, she sees a clear umbrella on the floor and picks it up. I believe that we have now embodied or spirited the umbrella, spending eternity with Mr. Scarletella. He owns us now.

However, in the Scarlet Rain end he becomes ours, the umbrella stays red, and we still, eternally are together forever.

[keferon]

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl ��His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance—Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[ladyshinga]

NGL I think if a society is hyper individualistic, it will ALWAYS also struggle with anti-intellectualism. Because when you're expected to survive on your own, no help and help being looked down on and mocked, when having assistance in life puts you into this lower class of person, of COURSE people end up reactionary and angry when it comes to admitting THEY DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING. Doctors cost money you don't have so in order to survive, you tell yourself you know enough about medicine that you can do your OWN research and take care of YOURSELF. People do shitty DIY in their houses because asking for help from some one who knows better than you is admitting weakness and a lack of knowledge some one can mock or exploit you over. Admitting you don't know things and you need help is SO looked down on that people who say "Hey I actually HAVE training in this, I DO know more than you about it" ends up being the enemy. Doctors are hated for saying things about medicine that the average American doesn't like (ie "vaccines work and don't cause autism"), professionals with skills are hated and mocked and Americans cling to ANY alternative that lets them do things "on their own" ("lol why would I hire some uppity writer or artist when we have AI now")

You cannot be hyper-independent and also admit you have blind spots and things you will never, ever be able to do AND THAT'S OKAY. You need to look around your daily life, on a regular basis, and notice everything you use and need that you had NOTHING to do with.

Admit you need other people, admit people know more about stuff than you, and maybe you'll just kinda all-around chill out and stop being so… cringingly American*

(*yes yes Not Just The USA but i don't like to @ people living in places where i shouldn't be the one @'ing ykwim)