#i wonder why my brain encodes it that way

[dockaspbrak]

Uncanny valley from performative language usage 😖

[sorcerous-caress]

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

[power-chords]

apologies if you've explained this already, but tumblr search is trash, so I have to ask... why the obsession with michael mann, how did that start?

Oh, man. It’s a long story! In the early days of the pandemic I got a call from my favorite rock musician that he had read a short essay I’d written on his solo album, and he wanted me to contribute a piece to his band’s forthcoming box set. Dream come true obviously, couldn’t say no, so I immediately buckled down on the research end, which for me involved a deeper dive into said musician’s love of film. Mann was on the list of suspects alongside more definitive entries like Coppola and Scorsese, but that turned out to be a happy accident of misreading. (Major shout out to Adam here, by the way, because without his guidance I would have been working with a much more meandering home-brewed syllabus.)

I enjoy movies like any properly adjusted American but they don’t tend to put a spell on me the way music does, or make me want to disassemble the whole contraption piece by piece like a good written story. And Mann’s work was the first time I’d ever encountered films that could have the same effect on me as music and literature. They were hypnotic and enchanting and propulsive, like my favorite records, but they also suggested this dense subterranean architecture of potential meaning, obscured from immediate view but very much there and carefully, deliberately encoded. In other words, these films were like texts imploring (really, daring) you to interpret them.

That’s Mann’s methodology in a nutshell, basically — it’s a seduction gambit, and on me it worked spectacularly! It tapped into my grotesque hedonic animal brain and sparked an intellectual curiosity as well. For me that combination has a narcotic quality that’s hard to explain, but I have an addictive personality. And the more I watched his work, the more it ensnared me like The Footage.* (“WHAT is going on? What is this film doing to me??” Etc.) You have to understand I have no prior experiential basis for this, so as far as I’m concerned it’s witchcraft. By the time I turn in my piece for the box set I have this collateral situation developing, ha ha, oh no, and here I am three years later.

Initially I had wondered if Mann had been an influence on Dulli, but it turned out to be a case of convergent evolution. Or something akin to it. I think they’re just similar in terms of what subject matter they’re attracted to, maybe in their modes of perception and how they make aesthetic/narrative sense of the world. And there is some part of me that keys into that sensibility — whichever part precedes organized expression, maybe even conscious comprehension — and finds it cathartic and liberating and all that good stuff. (I’m a Safety First adrenaline junkie these days so I try to limit my habits to art and pop culture.)

And then he and Meg Gardiner co-wrote an actual book which provoked further investigations, escalations, whatever you want to call them. It turns out that the abyss really DOES stare back into you in the form of numerous spooky historical coincidences. I’m like afraid of Heat 2 at this point because the more I go trawling around in there the more it becomes an eldritch object, LOL. I’m the closest anyone has come to living the film Jumanji, let me put it that way. But the experience has been a blast. And I feel fortunate to have found yet another creator on par with Dulli and Townshend whose work I will be able to take with me and return to over the course of my life, and seek shelter in in that way.

*EVERYBODY READ PATTERN RECOGNITION BY WILLIAM GIBSON!

[bestworstcase]

have you heard of and/or do you have a take on the gun theory?

unfortunately.

ok. my introduction to the g.u.n. theory occurred when somebody tagged the the narnia post ‘rwby gun theory’ and i went “the hell is that” and promptly found out.

that was two years ago jesus christ

since then it has occupied the dragon’s hoard of spurious fandom bullshit i keep in my brain to provide enrichment for my flock of scathing little carrion bird thoughts. i haven’t talked about it here because i do actually make an effort to be civil.

so.

the g.u.n. theory is underpinned by a fundamental misunderstanding of symbolism and allusion. both misunderstandings arise from the same analytical error, which is the presupposition that the text is written in code. it is, so to speak, a cryptographic reading.

before getting into the weeds i will say this: as a writer, i find this cryptographic approach genuinely a little offensive in, like, an “if you even look at my writing i will beat you to death and then eat you alive” knee-jerk fuck you kind of way. and that’s because this:

a theory that there is a second, completely different interpretation of RWBY from the apparent and generally accepted one […] that RWBY contains many, many more allusions than the creators let on. [they] are intentionally hiding these allusions […] by layering them, so that something that alludes to one thing on the surface also alludes to something else on a level beneath that, resulting in the audience easily seeing the top-level allusion but missing the lower level allusion- or allusions- unless they are paying very very close attention. [ src. ]

is fucking insulting. it is anti-storytelling. the point of a story is to tell a story, not to obfuscate itself by encoding the secret ‘real’ story in the proverbial fucking blue curtains. storytelling is communicative. storytellers WANT you to understand the story, the telling, that is the whole entire fucking point. symbolism is not a secret code. it’s a flag. it’s a trail-marker. it’s a tool for guiding attention and helping the audience connect the dots.

sometimes it’s accidental because writers make subconscious connections or just repeat a motif a lot for aesthetic reasons. (<- my thing is birds. if you’ve ever read bitter snow and wondered why everything is birds it’s because i just think that birds) sometimes it’s on purpose and sometimes it is On Purpose. but it is never, ever there to tell a secret hidden story that is not the story the story appears to be. stories say what they mean and mean what they say.

yes even allegories, fables, satire, et cetera. subtext is not “”hidden meaning“” it’s just narrative information conveyed implicitly. theme is not “”hidden meaning“” it’s the abstract ideas realized through the narrative. these are things the audience is supposed to pick up on, even if they lack the analytical skill to identify and articulate precisely how or why and even if they don’t consciously recognize it. storytellers want you to get it.

ok? ok.

takes off the writer hat.

the g.u.n. theory—like all cryptographic readings—begs the question. it’s a “method of further appreciating, understanding and even predicting the events of [RWBY]” by examining the story “as a confluence of dozens of familiar fantasy and fictional narratives and influences” because the story is actually something “completely different” from what it appears to be. the g.u.n. theory purports to excavate the deeper real story from the obfuscating “surface” story, which is an obviously insane thing to do unless you first accept the premise that the actual text—the things the characters do and say on the screen—is not what the story is.

the g.u.n. theory requires that “what happens in star wars?” is more relevant to interpreting rwby than “what happens in rwby?”

that is ludicrous. it is facile. it’s nonsense.

it would be nonsense even if the g.u.n. theory limited itself to genuine allusions (like ‘the marvelous land of oz’), because while rwby is retelling marvelous land pretty fucking overtly, you do in fact have to read marvelous land in context with a) what happens in rwby and b) specifically how rwby leverages marvelous land to construct its own story, which means you also need to read it in context with the other core allusions (maiden-in-tower tales, the little prince, cinderella) and the way the rwby narrative fits the pieces together. if that sounds complicated yes, but also no, because rwby is really very straightforward about it.

but the g.u.n. theory is the brainchild of people who think the core allusions are [checks notes] lord of the rings, star wars, avatar: the last airbender, fullmetal alchemist, and sailor moon. that the atlas arc is based on the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe (on this see The Narnia Post). that salem’s primary character allusions are the wicked witch of the west, sauron, cinderella’s evil stepmother, emperor palpatine, two presumably villainous fullmetal alchemist characters, and inexplicably maleficent?—but notably NOT rapunzel / persinette / petrosinella despite her being, yanno, explicitly the girl in the tower.

looks into the camera like i’m on the office.

what is happening here—this becomes obvious the instant g.u.n. theorists construct an argument for an allusion—is a conflation of common tropes and archetypes with narratively meaningful allusion. thus, “winter is jadis because she enters in a fancy airship, wields a sword and a smaller sword that kind of looks like a wand, there’s a stone lion-head fountain in this one scene, she’s short-tempered, and she’s from the frozen polar kingdom that oppresses the animal people” which is, um, stupid.

i am like five fucking thousand words deep in comparative analysis of salem and job arguing that rwby is a jobian narrative and i will still asterisk the book of job to hell and back as probably not a deliberate allusion because the comparison relies so much on subtext and i am waiting (very! patiently!) for salem to start talking before i’ll commit to arguing for intention. there are people who are convinced winter is jadis because her main gauche vaguely resembles a wand and she’s from the polar kingdom and, like, presents as an archetypal Ice Lady.

i just—

snarls. see the narnia post.

the point is that the g.u.n. theory’s analytical framework is both explicitly countertextual (the text is not the story) and interested in aesthetics and archetypal similarity almost to the exclusion of everything else.

joseph campbell would be proud.

that interest in aesthetics, combined with the g.u.n. theory’s cryptographic approach to analysis, is why prognostication guided by the g.u.n. theory turned out wrong with stunning regularity, and also why there are g.u.n. theory posts out there that make nonsense claims like “x symbol and y symbol have the same meaning and are interchangeable because they resemble each other and are connected to the same character” (<- snarls in ‘the broken moon = the burning rose’).

i’m glad V8 put it in the ground because if i had seen g.u.n. theorists babbling nonsense about alice in wonderland during V9 i would have been unkind

[isolatedgirlthing]

OK so have you read the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy? SPOILER WARNING but during the book it is revealed that earth was build artificially as an organic supercomputer. i promise this is going somewhere

(everything beyond this point speculation that im too lazy to explain any doubts just ask about it) (and the following section is also spoiler free)

metacognition is basically a system that encodes itself. we as conscious being are a complex system of biochemical relations that self perpetuates, but also knows about itself. the information that is encoded in us (through genetics, neural development, social development, etc) has within it a representation of the system that we are.

if we take a closer look at this system of our, and the relations that in encompasses, we see that we are made of independent, smaller living things. the units that build us, cells, are themselves alive in their own way, but they do not have the consciousness that we do, yet they still encode our own. losing them may result in alterations or loss of our consciousness. in a way, WE BASICALLY LIVE AT THE CELLS.

SO. we may ask ourselves. can it happen again? can consciousness arise from the social relations we are developing? we built really complex networks of sharing of resources and information with each other, just like a living organism, and if we posit that consciousness can happen in any system if the conditions allow for it, then consciousness of something beyond a human level may be possible. if biochemical reactions in our brains encode our feelings, then why can't sociopolitical relations encode the functioning of the something?

to be clear, i am not saying "we might develop a super intelligence, and it's gonna be so beyond us we won't be able to comprehend" no. not at all. the process i'm describing would have us literally be the thing. THE SOMETHING BASICALLY LIVES AT US. we are it's cells. it's components. it's thoughts are processed through our living and our actions, and just as a neuron doesn't the thought it transmits, we won't understand this consciousness and it may not understand us, just like we are with cells.

wow. that's a long ask. just some final remarks: no, i don't think this is anywhere close to happening. it's just cool to wonder its possibility. it may even not be possible, but i have my own (also very long) opinion on that (that i may inflict upon y'all some other time)

i should probably stop thinking and/or become a science fiction author

oh fuck im really high right now

i dont think thats the correct usage of "encodes"

also im pretty sure this is what happens at the end of armored core 6

[pdaliceliveblogs]

So.

That was a hell of a thing.

I’m honestly impressed by how many times that managed to punch me in the heart, in different ways— with love, with fear, with fury, with achy mourning.

This wrap-up post is super belated, and some of it was written right after I first watched the ep, and some a good two months later, so I apologize if it’s a little scattered. What an episode, though.

There are definitely places where you can feel the pain of the compression. Both montages felt like they could have filled whole episodes on their own, and the map in a box under the floorboards is weirdly convenient— I’d love to know why it’s there, who put it there, why it’s encoded as a rebus, why there are apparently a bunch of rebuses in Old Gravesfield, and I know that stuff is all going to be left up to speculation. Speculation is fun, and I don’t think everything ever needs an explicit explanation— in fact, it’s a pet peeve of mine when people treat “wasn’t spelled out explicitly” as equivalent to “plot hole”— but this does feel like something they could have gone into more deeply if they’d had time.

That said, damn it was good. They didn’t just make the best of what they had, they made something genuinely fantastic. The kids settling in— everything from Amity’s awkward tea attempt to Willow becoming a Polaroid nerd (hey, didn’t I have in my headcanons/designs post that she’d keep a meticulous journal to show her dads when they got back?) was fantastic, Gus’s conflicting joy at seeing the realm he’d been so curious about and achy sadness missing his dad, there’s so much rich loam there for both wacky shenanigans and angsty character exploration and they managed to hit on both at least a little in the time, which, damn. Kudos.

Luz is such a good protagonist, such a good character, I really love her. Her depression throughout this episode hurt in a really accurate way; she was spiraling and hating herself while at the same time loving her family and her friends, she was struggling to work up the energy to be excited about a couples’ cosplay that would have had her bouncing off the walls a couple months before, she was trying to do what she thought was right even though that was dramatically warped by where her brain was at that point. It would have helped no one for her to stay in the Human Realm. If she was thinking clearly, she’d have known that, and she was very obviously not thinking clearly. It’s, uh, relatable. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the belief that the ones you love will be better off without you is one that’s really hard to shake.

The whole possession thing with Hunter… god. It’s such a visceral horror, being taken over from the inside out, dragged forcibly back into the old you even after you worked so hard to become someone better, someone you like to be. That Little Blond Puritan Clone Boy Cannot Catch a Break, except that he did, for most of the episode, and it was really wonderful to watch him being happy. Let the boy nerd out and cosplay and wear a homemade three wolf moon tee and and cherish the fuck out of his pet bird and fuck around at a thrift store wearing a goofy cardinal kigurumi and pick up a hobby. He’s a seventeen year old kid, he’s spent most of his life as a child soldier for his abusive uncle, and he got to flourish, for a bit. He got to thrive. He got friends, and a family, and a break.

Gus was awesome with him all episode, by the way. Repeatedly dropping hints that he already knows about the Grimwalker thing, not pushing him to explain, just being there for him and encouraging him. What a good friend.

(Side note, I love it when characters who have spent a lot of time together have similar speech patterns, so even though it’s painful as hell when that’s not a healthy relationship it was kind of amazing to hear Hunter go “up-bup-bup-bup spoileeeers!!” and think about Belos doing the dismissive “up-bup-bup” back in YB,OS)

The possession itself (ha, I got off track, sorry) was so well handled to build the slow dread, the pierced finger, the eyes, the creep up the back of his jaw, the layering of the voice. I mentioned it as I was blogging, but the fact that Hunter’s voice remained present the whole time was a fantastically terrifying choice. The whole battle was so gorgeously done, not just the sequence with the incredible animation (though that was definitely a highlight) but the way Belos gloated, his skill at saying exactly the right thing at the right time to fuck with his opponents, and Hunter’s desperate push to tell him exactly what he wanted and try to get rid of him, his own safety notwithstanding.

Honestly, Camila was the MVP of the episode. I loved the deeper dive into her character, the fact that she’s so much more like her daughter than we thought, the issues she had in school and how they were used to manipulate her with her desire to give Luz a better life… but more than her backstory, what made her so wonderful is the woman she is now. Her immediate acceptance of the witchlings, her steady research to try and figure out how to best care for them and for her queer daughter, putting in the work, the coupons, oh ow the coupons, her blasé willingness to find some blood if that’s what they need, her fierce protectiveness, her strong will. It was honestly a delight to get to know her better, and I’m so glad she’ll be there for what comes next.

I think that’s all I have to say right now— one of the side effects of it taking me so dang long to write a proper wrap-up is that I’ve made posts (and written fic) about several of the other things I was thinking about, ha.

I was holding out on checking with my screener about asks until I made myself write this up, so I’ll do that now; if y’all sent me any, I’ll answer them soon <3

[loislaina]

Gender critical ideology dismisses or overlooks the lived reality of other, non-Western cultures, for whom experiences of gender can often differ in significant ways from the Western, white, patriarchal, cisheteronormative perception of gender as inextricably linked with biology. I could cite innumerable examples of the ways in which other cultures both historical and modern differ in their treatment of gender, but I think y'all get my point. You can't destroy the patriarchy by working within its binary confines, which is exactly what radfems are trying to do - hence their unfortunate alliance with regressive Christian nationalist rhetoric and politics (as well as Putin, of all people). Biology is not destiny. It does not trump free will. Chromosomes merely encode protein instructions; they are not the end all of biology. Gene expression can altered or even flipped on or off by many varying factors: say, for instance, by hormone replacement therapy. Also, any biological, scientific evidence of trans brains being different from cis brains even before their transition is invariably minimized within TERF discourse.

Furthermore, it ignores the many other forms that oppression can take in favor of the overly simplified and frankly downright cultish model that men will always be oppressors and women will always be victims. That's not to say that women, cis and trans alike, aren't victims of the patriarchy; indeed, the restrictive gender roles of the patriarchal Western system oppress women in highly visible ways. But men, and especially trans men, do suffer from this in ways that differ from women's experiences, and tend to be less visible. To deny this is to claim that entire segments of the human population are either delusional or liars, and that is not something I am willing to state. To paint entire demographics with a broad stroke is dehumanization; the tactic of fascists and monsters throughout history, and radfems are no less guilty of this than were the genocidal regimes, the Nazis and the white imperialist colonizers who preceded them.

Lastly, it either ignores or claims that the statistical reality of trans people being far more the victims than the perpetrators of sexual violence is entirely made up. So I guess all the statisticians, the legal experts, the psychologists, the doctors and medical experts involved in consolidating and publishing these stats are all just involved in a vast conspiracy to paint trans folk as victims then?

Statistically, the vast, vast majority of sexual offenders are cisgender men. But I guarantee you'll never see any unholy alliance of radfems and conservatives plotting to remove all men from public spaces, or castigating their very existence as "pornographic". I wonder why that is? 🤔

We all need to do a better job of displaying empathy, and being open to hearing people out: trying with an open mind to understand how others feel and doing our best to meet them where they're coming from. I'm given to understand based on secondhand testimony that many if not most TERFs have had traumatic experiences with men. That could very well be mere hearsay, but it would explain a lot of their behavior. If that is the case, then I am sorry that was inflicted on you, and I completely understand where you're coming from, as I have had traumas of my own. I don't claim to speak for anyone but myself in this however. This has all been only my personal POV based on what I've seen from terfblr.

[soundsfaebutokay]

8 & 10 for the digging deep asks, and happy birthday as well!!! 🥳✨

Thank you, my dear! It was a lovely day. :)

8. Song that reminds you of a wonderful memory

Secret Worlds reminds me of several wonderful memories. The song is thrumming with the urgency to drink deeply of the moment because "in years to come we both know we won't be the same." That feeling is something I recognize in myself whenever I'm truly happy. Like a part of me is partaking in the experience, but another part is busily encoding as many details as possible in my brain so that I can remember them forever. If I could carve happiness in the bark of a tree, I would.

10. Song that makes you angry

Little Miss Why So. That song twists me up every which way but this bit: "Can't you see that I'm enough for you? But you don't want me to be, 'cause that means you'll actually have to be content." Arrghhhhh fuck offfffffff fuck right OFF. I need to go bite something now because unfortunately I can't kick the ass of a character in a song.

The ask game is here :)

[alexistudies]

my first six months at purdue by @alexistudies

introduction/background

my first 6 months at purdue have been some of the most academically challenging months of my life since early in my undergraduate studies. if you're wondering why i am at purdue, it's because i am doing a post-baccalaureate research program. think of a master's program but 1) without the degree, 2) only one year long, and 3) fully funded - meaning courses & fees are covered and i get a decent paycheck every month. i chose to pursue this route instead of a master's program because i wanted to have a smooth transition from my undergrad discipline to this, and to confirm that pursuing biomedical engineering is truly something i want to do. moreover, all my master's program offers provided little to no funding so this also made the most financial sense.

research: what type of research i do + why its been an uphill battle

the lab i decided to join focuses on neural engineering using electrophysiology in mice to investigate ways of creating artificial sensation for neural prosthesis, while also looking at things like sensory encoding and deep brain stimulation for neurodevelopmental disorder treatment. because our work is in vivo, this means we learn how to do neurosurgeries of implanting electrodes in mice, then stimulation and recording while they're awake (and sometimes asleep depending on the project). this has been challenging to say the least because the surgeries require a lot of skill, tactfulness, and patience. plus, animals are unpredictable.

i joined my lab in july, started getting trained on the surgeries in august and began practicing in september. these surgeries require a certain level of skill and technique that i just haven't acquired yet, but we're trying! due to my struggles of surgeries being unsuccessful, some mice dying, etc... i haven't collected any data yet. however, i can tell that after winter break, i should be able to restart surgeries and collect data .. which would be GREAT since i'm presenting at a conference in February (probably)

grad school

despite the struggles with actual experiments and such, this has been great preparation for graduate school becauuuse we all know graduate school is a marathon and not a sprint. i was successful in submitting all my PhD and fellowship applications and i can't wait to see how things turn out. i've already had 1 interview event, and i've been notified of 3 others. things are looking up.

outside of the literal applications, i have taken 2 light graduate level classes on sci-comm and using citation management software. recently switched from mendeley to zotero and i can't say i'm mad about it. additionally, i'll be taking a more meaty course in the spring called Neural Systems. i'm looking forward to it content wise, i'm just hoping i can handle the coursework on top of interviews and research obligations. my planner will be my savior.

highlights

living on my own! super exciting and enlightening. very freeing. oh and seeing snow REALLY fall for the first time!

finding some cool coffee shops around campus

experiencing a campus with a lot of school pride and culture... you can't beat that. my undergrad institution was a commuter school catering to a different population, so that vibe wasn't present. this is a nice 180

presenting at ABRCMS

other struggles

rebuilding a support group here. i have my partner, my lab, and 1 or 2 friends but i'm really hoping to meet more people next semester. this will be crucial if i decide to stay here for my PhD

not having a car. whew its rough but we're making moves to get a vehicle soon. no later than August 2023

solid 7/10 if you ask me, but lets check back in after winter is over lol

[jonathankatwhatever]

I’m having a bunch of extremely straightforward thoughts. Of course this is true. Of course that is true. This extends to you or rather the issues of doubt concerning identification. I’m trying to say those issues are renormalized, that they take known and fit across the gap of unknown. Known is harder to measure when it’s not physical, but the Julia set and the Mandelbrot set, call them together JM connect gs - it’s literally the iterating square of a complex number, centered at 0 or not.

Trying to say that the M set doesn’t just count the rationals: it makes them. That’s because the M set is centered at 0 on the real line. Set yourself at 0 and this is all that made available.

It’s now 12 Mar 2024 and I don’t have much memory of typing this yesterday. Not sure why. But I wanted to include them because I was obviously processing that this is what I’ve been looking for, in concepts so deep and dense that they allow all the perspectives we can imagine, just as every single rational number appears in visual form which counts up the numerator and denominator, and just as the Fibonacci sequence appears, in each and every cas as though there’s an Observer counting, which is true in the sense that we can locate this O in the - say it - the 1Space, the 1 count, which forms the line between divergence and convergence.

No wonder I’m exhausted, what with you and the demands that puts on my brain and this depth of imagery. That which assembles but which cannot be achieved can be achieved only in perspectives because that which assembles is uncountable, which is why the Cantor set appears in nature, because the underlying processes which generate reality are constructing within the D3-4 Space. Don’t go into the more exact description of gsSpace, please. Okay, trying to glide past that attractor, a trail with known contours, where the End is uncertain means I want to explore that rather than pass through it as though I went along that path and completed it as part of my overall slime mould existence. Slime mould makes a lot more sense when you see it as a set generated in gsSpace.

So, if you locate these sets, call them JM within the D3-4 Space, then we need to connect that idea to them representing actual stuff, which we have, then we have encoding at levels. I took out the word infinite. Don’t want to throw that around. Encoding at levels because if it can count this or that way, then it can count using SBE and fCM to define characters, words, stories, etc.

[nx-communicato]

“Hunh, it’s rich and tangy, like old coins…”

I thought I was just supposed to somehow rent a car (without a driver’s license and no insurance) to get down to ______ Valley in ____ to meet up with everyone, my friends & family, and maybe some 71357325 or 170224765 or 8428325. (…of course I don’t have 3 keys or any other potential requirements, I found no gold coins or hidden treasures, and solved no riddles.) But….

Nope, now I’m just sad and broken again, because I’m pretty sure this is just the most elaborate April Fool’s prank on the biggest fool ever and everybody is laughing at me always… I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I don’t understand why the things I was most proud of about myself… my favorite qualities about me as a person, are the weaknesses that everyone else is trying to cure me of. I have silently questioned every single aspect of my life… every memory dissected to see if it was real or illusion. Everybody out in public I hear whispering about me as I pass. I no longer am able to trust anyone. It doesn’t help that I see messages written encoded on every surface I see (every surface - of everything). Every post I see, every text, every article… all have encrypted messages directed to me. I found a note this morning written years and years ago from my now deceased grandfather to my dad that seemed to indicate a willingness to contact some old veteran friends to eliminate the unholiness that is me if he (my father) didn’t feel he’d be able to take care of me himself. Every book I pick up, somehow now describes me or my life in ways I never noticed before but now cannot ignore.

I have a new permanent lurking fear that I have forgotten something I have done that was so bad that it would warrant this punishment… but I don’t know what, so every person I meet I have a quick panic moment where my brain flash-forwards through all the horrors I may have inflicted on their family: did I sideswipe a relative off a bike while drunk? …or maybe they were in the van with me when I crashed, …was I a bully? …did I try to financially usurp your family business? …did I rape you or your sister? …I can be really imaginative when I’m destroying my psyche.

Am I a god, a demon, a computer program? Am I Kargeros or Neo, Loki or Pinocchio, Jesus or Alice? Am I even alive? Was I ever alive? I never in my life thought that I would have this problem, but now I sometimes question whether or not I am even alive or real or not… how fucking low does your self-confidence have to get to question the relevance of your own existence? But, the cheapest (and therefore most likely) solutions are that either I was a hated deadbeat who now resides in hell because of a debt owed, or I am a naive and gullible fool and I’m getting punked! These are my two best guesses for what is happening except for when my stupid-ass ever-hopeful heart blinds me into thinking I would somehow ever get a happy ending to this story that is my shitstorm of a life.

So if you are wondering why I haven’t finished the game, or why I keep relapsing, it’s not because I don’t love you or I don’t want to be with you forever. I want nothing more. In fact, that is really the only thing I want in life anymore. It’s just that I have no reason to believe that it is possible that it even could happen - that there is even the slightest chance of that being a possible future is most likely the reason I’m still here (well, that and the fact that Tiger hasn’t passed on yet). But fighting against that tiniest fraction which exists only on baseless hope, is an entire lifetime of experience (probably?) saying that’s not how things go for me. Usually at this point in my constant internal argument silently ongoing is when I get triggered into wearing myself out physically for no reward or maybe stumble across another tormenting post or sometimes just have a chat with the angels and demons and elementals and 4D energy leeches that I get to see in a weird overlay of the reality that everyone else perceives… lucky me for gaining a spiritual level-up (or a mental schism - call it how you like it makes no difference to me). Regardless, my concern at this point is not so much, “…am I disappointing loved ones”, as it is, “…gee, I wonder how my rifle tastes?”

[on-stardust-wings]

We all get the occasional laugh out of Aziraphale being out-fashioned, always at least 50 years behind the times, listening to old music and wearing old clothes and stuff... but, I mean, can we blame him?

He’s 6000 years old. 50 years will probably feel like half a year ago to him.

There’s this theory that we feel our childhood and adolescence years last longer then our adult years (a summer as a kid felt endless, while a summer as a twenty or thirty or fourty year old just passes by) because the brain measures time flowing by how much New Stuff happened to you. When you’re younger, lots of things are new experiences, so your brain gets to file lots of new things, so it feels like More Stuff happened, which is encoded as “a lot of time passed/event lasted long”. As you grow older, you do a lot of things the second, third or tenth time. You see fewer new things, so your memory just sorta lumps it all together as “that time when nothing really happened”.

Now, an angel’s memory will probably be working not the same way as a human’s, but the overall principle still kinda seems like something that would make sense even for angels. New things are exciting. You remember exciting things, and one of the reasons boring things are boring is that there’s nothing memorable about them. So even to an angel, new things will probably be more memorable.

Imagine those first few hundreds of years on Earth. Newly incorporated. Rain has just been invented. Plants and animals and people have just been invented. Oh, now there is food, and you can taste that. How exciting! They have nothing like this in Heaven! The humans invent music, and tell stories! How wonderful!

The first few centuries must’ve been a ride. Humans invented new things all the time, and given how big Earth is, there was always new places to discover, maybe animals he hadn’t seen before... Lots and lots of new input.

After a while, that will naturally taper off. He’s already tasted foods in general. Yes, new dishes are still being created all the time, but they’re often variants on things he’s eaten before. Yes, new stories are being told, but they too are often spins on older stories and tropes. After a few centuries, the most of the new things are actually old things dressed differently. People stay people. They build cities, they raze them down again, a new generation of people builds new cities that are actually not all that different from the old cities. Things start to blur together with every repetition. Did this war happen in the 12th or the 14th century again? Was that one of ours or one of yours, dear boy? After a couple thousand years, human history gets a bit fuzzy here and there.

It also gets rather tiresome to keep up with. After so much time, Aziraphale will be well aware that trends don’t last, that even buildings meant for forever are nowhere close to forever on an immortal’s terms. Why keep up with all of it? And then the 19th, 20th and 21st century come around, with ever faster changing and utterly short-lived trends and inventions. Oh, look, they invented trains and cars! Finally no more horse riding, how convenient. What do you mean, the steam engine doesn’t power trains anymore? Didn’t they just invent that? The radio is nice alright, who came up with this TV thing again? What’s an internet?

Just this morning, on the radio at my workplace, there was a report on the first radio program broadcast in my country, exactly 100 years ago. That’s practically yesterday to an angel. My parents (in their late 50s) still frequently point out that when they were young, there were three TV stations here, and they say it with that sense of genuine bafflement of “where the heck did all the others come from”. It seems like growing older puts you in the paradoxical situation that you’ve already seen almost anything there is to see, but sometimes there’s something new and strange that comes out of nowhere and shakes you out of whatever sense of security you were getting out of knowing what the world is like because you’ve seen it all already.

That’s Aziraphale’s reality, isn’t it? For millenia. Lots of things about humans and life of Earth all stay pretty similar once you’ve experienced them a few times. And then sometimes something new comes up out of the blue. Most of the time it doesn’t even stay around long! It’s suddenly there (70′s haircuts!), and then it’s gone again, replaced by something else with a similar shelf-life. Doesn’t it make sense that he grew tired of keeping up with this human nonsense? Humans grow tired of it within their short lives. It’s completely accepted and normal that grandma won’t get the hang of Twitter anymore. Should we expect Aziraphale to, when it’s kinda so much worse for him? Doesn’t it make sense that instead, he picks up the things he enjoys on the way and keeps them around, takes good care of them? Sticks to his favourite books, finds a style of clothing he enjoys wearing and doesn’t change it again?

I love looking around the bookshop in the show. It’s so full of little trinkets. There are scrolls on the shelves, not just books. You can imagine how old they are, things he picked up before the printing press was invented. Texts laboriously copied down by hand, with little illustrations added along the margins. There are statues and other artwork from what seems like various centuries. Souvenirs of a time traveller, of a life lived as a walk through history. Nobody keeps everything they see on their travels. You keep what stands out to you, what will remind you of the good times. I think that’s what Aziraphale does.

Funnily, it’s also what Crowley does. Looking at Crowley, always changing his hair and his clothing and sometimes his gender presentation, Crowley seems the opposite. The constant change to Aziraphale’s stubborn permanence. In a way, that’s probably true. To a degree. Crowley likes new things. Crowley delights in new inventions. Crowley has fun changing things around.

At the same time, it seems a little over the top. Like what we’re seeing is just the other extreme of an immortal being trying to cope with life on Earth. Crowley tries to adapt. Crowley follows every new trend. He tries new haircuts, new music, he got a car when cars where still a weird novelty thing rich people did. At first glance, Crowley doesn’t keep things. His flat looks almost empty. We rarely see him wear a fashion item for more than a few years.

On second look, the flat is, for all its minimalism, full of things Crowley kept. The Mona Lisa cartoon, a gift from a friend he made hundreds of years ago. He brought home the eagle lectern from the church where he made up with Aziraphale after their argument. Also the other art pieces don’t seem like they’re randomly chosen just to be decoration. Crowley doesn’t seem the decoration type. What Crowley keeps in his flat means something, even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. He makes fun of Aziraphale and his coat (very adoringly, but he does), but when his car explodes, look at the big bad demon who doesn’t care about things. He’s devastated. The Bentley meant so much to him. I imagine maybe losing the Mona Lisa would be bad, too. Not Bentley levels of bad, but somewhere close. Crowley doesn’t keep a lot of things. He keeps the things that mean the most, the things he can’t bear giving up on, and it hurts even more to lose them then.

Just... Imagine how utterly lost they both are, living on this weird planet full of mortals that don’t understand them, that live at an entirely different pace. It has to be irritating. It has to be confusing. In a way, it’s gotta be like culture shock, constantly.

Language seems to stay the same to us, but the truth is that it changes significantly even within a human’s lifespan. To an immortal, Italian, Spanish, French and Co are probably all just weird newfangled spins on Latin, and wasn’t that a perfectly good language, whatever did the humans think getting rid of it like this.

Politics are a nightmare! There’s a new king practically every time they turn their back on a country, and then suddenly, oh, democracy! Wait, got rid of it again! No, wait, now it’s back! Oops, another war, borders are all over the place again!

Music and arts are actually a bit of a breather once the renaissance rolls around. What we now call classical music was mostly written in the 1800′s, and it’s been played ever since. A lot of modern music is based on it, too. Mozart and Bach stick around at least! Aziraphale is clearly fond of classical music, but it’s noteworthy Crowley is, too. He listens to rock (Velvet Underground, Queen), Book!Crowley keeps a collection of soul music, but he also has classical music tapes/CDs in the car.  Crowley is the one with the much more diverse taste in music, but he too likes the classics. The classics are good, and sometimes they’re comforting.

TL;DR: Time is terrible to keep up with when you’re immortal. Let Aziraphale keep his outdated tartan things. ;-)

[darthkruge]

Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.  

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him. 

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness. 

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff. 

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand. 

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear. 

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle. 

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-” 

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot. 

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him. 

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints. 

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours. 

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought. 

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings. 

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding. 

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth. 

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse. 

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment. 

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you. 

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

 Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you.  I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms” 

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through. 

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you. 

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue. 

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

--

i just made a taglist so if you want to join, go ahead!

tags: 

@saltybreaddream

[theggning]

Codsworth Is So Underrated, You Guys

ALTERNATE TITLE: Codsworth and the Totally Understated Mindbending Evolution of Artificial Consciousness

I find Codsworth is often the most underrated of the 16 companions in Fallout 4. Your faithful robot butler is among the very first you can recruit and an excellent early-game ally, but he has a few disadvantages in gameplay that mean he’s often sent back to Sanctuary before long. Codsworth is a mid-to-close range fighter only, cannot wear armor or be equipped with weapons. He cannot be healed by stimpak, which makes him a liability if you’re playing on Survival mode. He has no companion quest of his own, so unless you particularly enjoy him there’s not a compelling reason to keep him for a long time. He also becomes recruitable exactly 2 minutes after adorable puppy Best Boy Dogmeat, so he is often (understandably) replaced just as soon as he’s made available.

But there is this great, completely understated facet to Codsworth, so understated that the game does not draw attention to it in any way. And yet, it is a wonderful reflection of many of the themes of Fallout 4 and, I believe, a pretty strong indication of its thesis statement.

Now what in the hell am I talking about?

Like many sci-fi/fantasy universes, the Fallout series is home to many highly-advanced robots. Robots were commonplace before the Great War, and many have survived the bombs intact and in working order. Others have been built or modified by wastelanders to serve various tasks (Percy, Ada.) The most important thing to understand about robots, though, is though they may have vivid personalities programmed in, they are widely accepted to be objects. They are thought of the same way as an appliance, a machine built for a specific purpose and programmed to follow a strict set of protocols.

Many jokes revolve around the relatively rigid intelligence of robots. Pre-War, many were deployed in inappropriate jobs or designed haphazardly (Mister Handies acting as nurses in a hospital, “paramedic” Protectrons with massive deadly tasers for hands, military robots constantly going haywire and erupting in friendly fire.) Others continue to man businesses and play out daily tasks as they were programmed to do over 200 years ago. Most robots are incapable of understanding anything beyond their initial programming, and most pre-War robots are completely unaware that the Great War ever happened.

When the Sole Survivor reunites with Codsworth at the ruins of their home, it seems like he, too, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He talks about tending the (dead) garden, references the (ghoulified) neighbors, and generally acts like the chipper robot butler Sole left behind on their way to Vault 111.

But there is something slightly… off in Codsworth’s dialogue here. Though he acts like the war never happened, he also specifically mentions details that suggest it did:

Player Default: Codsworth! You're still... fully operational?          

Codsworth: {Defiant} Well of course, mum. You can thank the fine engineers at General Atomics for that! At least, you could have. Had they not been... vaporized.

A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the ole' chronometer. That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.

You've no idea the desperation for human contact one develops over 200 years. {Upset, recalling bad memories of encountering raiders and scavengers. / Disgust} And when you do encounter them? Oh the cruelty! You're either... target practice or... spare parts!

Even stranger, Codsworth mentions details that are plainly made-up (or some kind of delusion):

Codsworth: It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you...?   

Player Default: Codsworth... listen to me carefully... have you seen him? Have you seen Shaun?              

Codsworth: Why, sir had him last, remember? Perhaps he's gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date?

(Shaun is an infant. He is too young to play charades or to go to the neighbors for a play-date.)

So at once, Codsworth does and does not acknowledge the war. He does and does not seem to understand what’s happened, and he does and does not seem to follow Sole’s urgency regarding their spouse’s death and Shaun’s kidnapping.

And then, after a speech check, Codsworth finally snaps and breaks down sobbing in despair. Not only does he understand that the war happened, he has developed the ability to get depressed about it. Longing for human contact and with nothing else to do, he’s even developed coping mechanisms to help him try to deal with his loneliness and despair—futilely trying to do his chores and deluding himself into pretending everything is completely normal.

Wait a minute. Sobbing? Despair? Depression? Coping mechanisms and delusions? This Is all pretty sophisticated stuff to be programmed into a robot, and if you spend more time with Codsworth, the reality of what’s happened to him becomes apparent:

Codsworth has evolved beyond his programming. In his 210 lonely years of existence, he has developed emotional reactions and self-awareness far beyond that of most other robots, and, indeed, has basically evolved an artificial consciousness.

“Emergent intelligence” is the theoretical ability of an AI to eventually develop something resembling human thought processes, and it seems that our dear Codsworth has undergone this. Traveling with him, he displays many sophisticated thoughts and behaviors far beyond what most robots are shown to be capable of. He has memories of pre-War time and places, and understands how various locations have changed. He is capable of learning new information and forming opinions on it, gaining his own understanding of the people and factions in the Commonwealth. He can feel happiness, sorrow, fear, disgust. He can anticipate things, predict danger and imagine how people might respond to your actions. The mere he fact he has opinions and a moral code that he applies to you shows he has free will, something even other robot companions don’t (Ada has a personality, but absolutely does not care about your actions.)

He’s also smart enough to make many wry observational jokes, and to lay one hell of a sick burn on you:

{Joking - Found an old bowling alley. / Amused} Fancy a game, mum? Something tells me the bumpers are no longer available.

 Codsworth’s intelligence is even more sophisticated than that. He displays stunning self-awareness, frequently referencing the fact he is a robot and what that means. He is very proud of his background as General Atomics’ finest, and seems pleased with his robot nature and his lot in life. (Unlike Curie, I don’t think Codsworth would ever really want to gain a synth body. He seems quite happy as he is.)

Here he is making reference to still feeling the tug of his programming:

{Seeing an office with chairs arranged in a circle. / Neutral} I've the most incredible urge to rearrange those chairs in a more perfect circle.

Understanding when other robots are restricted by theirs:

A pity. It appears Deezer's programming is too severe to allow for normal conversation. Ah well.

And when they’re actually not:

Codsworth: Greetings, sir. Good to see another robot in town. That chef hat becomes you.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Takahashi you say? I'm Codsworth, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?              

Codsworth: Is that so? Well, we both know RobCo is no General Atomics. It's not surprising it failed, shoddy work and all.  {Friendly - trying to cheer up another robot. / Friendly} Chin up, though. Never know when parts may turn up.

 And here’s Galaxy Brain Codsworth ruminating on his own state of being and contemplating his nature:

{Disappointed that he can't be 100% human sometimes. / Sad} It's unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.            

I suppose if I had the hardware, I'd have the software as well. I'd hate to see how that'd affect my honesty and manner settings.

{Reconsidering what he thought was a good idea. / Thinking} Indeed. Perhaps I should rethink my initial desire.

Hilariously, Codsworth does not seem fully aware of how remarkable his intelligence is. He occasionally says things like “if I had feelings” and “if I could feel things,” indicating that in some ways he still believes he is only a robot and defines himself by what a robot is and does.

But as we can see, our humble robot butler has essentially evolved to become the smartest, most emotionally intelligent and person-like robot in the Commonwealth*, and potentially in the series.

([SIDE NOTE: Other FO4 robots nearing Codsworth’s level of consciousness and developed personality include Captain Ironsides, KLE-O, Whitechapel Charlie, and perhaps Takahashi. Curie is close, but also receives the unfair advantage of being uploaded into a synth body with a human brain. Jezebel also functions off of a human brain. Nick is not a robot, he’s a synth (though he does jokingly refer to himself as one) and also has the advantage of a human brain encoded on his processor.])

Also hilariously, the game basically does not acknowledge Codsworth’s impressive evolution. At all. There is absolutely no direct mention of it in the script. It is all left to ambient dialogue and the player’s own observations. And because so many people overlook Codsworth as a companion, they may not even realize exactly how unique his expanded consciousness is.

Now, you might call this total lack of mention a mistake, an oversight on Bethesda’s part, or that old chestnut “bad writing.” I don’t think it is. I think it’s a deliciously subtle little detail to include in a story about humanity, machines, artificial intelligence, and what makes a person.

Many of the themes of FO4 revolve around synths—distinctly not robots, but androids, artificially created beings with fully organic human bodies. Most of the storyline factions have strong beliefs about synths and the relative humanity thereof. The Institute believes that synths are objects, tools, machines no different from a robot who are only simulating their personalities through programming. The Brotherhood believes synths are monstrous abominations, a danger to humanity itself, technology run amok which needs to be destroyed. The Railroad believes they are people. Not humans, but people, built instead of born, free-thinking beings that deserve to be treated with respect and given rights.

Through quests, dialogue, notes, worldbuilding and other venues, players explore these questions. What makes someone a person? If your personality and memories can be rewritten or programmed, then who are you, really? Where do we draw the line between humans and machines, and how do we decide who belongs where?

Meanwhile, as the player contemplates the nature of personhood and the definition of intelligence, their robot butler quietly evolves into a fully-conscious person on his own, right beside them.

Codsworth is unquestionably a machine, but also unquestionably beyond the appliance he was built to be. Which to some philosophies and players should really beg a few other questions. If a robot can be considered a person, then what makes synths so different? And how many excuses do we have to make to pretend otherwise?

Ya boy Codsworth may not be flashy, or powerful, or kissable. He may not be the most glamorous companion around. But he is a good friend, a beloved member of the family, and above all else, a loyal butler—content to serve, quietly and humbly doing his job where some may never even notice him-- or the fact that he’s casually become his own person and sent generations of roboticists and philosophers spinning in their graves.

[kuroopaisen]

03:22 am || sugawara koushi

➵ existentialism doesn’t have to be depressing.

wc: 2292

warnings: gn!reader, philosophical talk (I’m so sorry), existentialism

a/n: sorry for rambling so much about existentialism dslfk i was doing my best to get into the 3am mindset

The stars aren’t particularly bright, but you’re grateful that you can even catch a glimpse of them. Your apartment’s balcony is only small, and you can only see so much unobstructed sky. What you can see of the constellations are bleached by the city lights, but that hasn’t dampened either yours or Suga’s desire to stargaze. The two of you cuddle up on a dingy banged-up couch, barely big enough to fit both of you. Not that either of you care.

Suga seemed particularly unphased, littering quick kisses across the side of your face.

“Koushi,” you chuckle, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?” A peck to your cheek.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m just peachy.” A kiss to your temple.

“Do you want something?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him straight.

“Nothing,” he beams, pressing his lips to your nose.

You grin, kissing his own nose in response.

You take a moment to admire him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. 

He looks a bit like starlight personified, all silver hair and round, bright eyes. He’s got one of those smiles that lights up his whole face, crinkling his eyes in the most endearing way.

Those kind eyes of his were one of the things that had drawn you to him at first. Initially, your intentions had been purely platonic. But how weren’t you supposed to fall in love with this boy made of starlight?

“What’re you thinking about?” You ask, smoothing a thumb over his cheek. He smiles at you, those beautiful eyes of his touched with a hint of melancholy.

“Nothing.”

“You’re thinking about something,” you smile. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

His eyes are kind, warm, gentle. But they’re perhaps a bit more expressive than he’d like.

Suga grins, shaking his head. “I was a fool to think I’d get anything by you, huh?”

“Good to see you’re learning your lesson,” you tease. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just… thinking about the inherent meaninglessness of life.”

You snort, but you’re not surprised. This isn’t unusual for him. “That doesn’t sound like ‘alright’.”

“Oh, but it is,” Suga grins, looking you directly in the eyes. “It’s great.”

“Why?”

“I get to do whatever I want,” Suga shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if there’s no greater meaning to any of it. I get to live my life in a way that makes me happy.”

“What makes you happy, then?” You ask, smoothing the top of his head.

“You,” he fires back immediately, a cheeky grin on his lips.

“That’s a cop-out,” you snort, poking his nose.

“I just…” He sighs, turning his gaze back to the faint stars. “I just want to do right by the people around me.”

“That’s wonderful,” you smile. There’s such beautiful sincerity in his eyes.

“It sounds cheesy,” Suga scoffs, his cheeks tinged pink.

“So?” You ask.

His blush deepens as he meets your eyes. “Well… you know…”

You’re well-aware of what the concern is, but you’ve decided to mark it down as ‘silly.’

“If you’re going to be a nihilist, you may as well be nice about it,” you shrug. “Nothing’s worse than being an asshole who’s rude to people because ‘life is meaningless’ and ‘humans are just base animals’ or whatever.”

Suga chuckles at your rather accurate impression of a man in a first-year philosophy degree.

“Just don’t start quoting Nietzsche at me,” you grin.  

“I would never,” Suga scoffs. “It’s gotta be Kierkegaard.”

“Wasn’t he just… really sad?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

“He hated democracy.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Suga shrugs. “I dunno. I just know he did.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Good to see you’ve been paying attention in class.”

“Look,” Suga raises a hand, “I found that out when I was just scouring the net, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Philosophy is supposed to make you think about life, not some guy’s opinion on democracy, okay?” Suga grins.

“You have to write a dialogue, right?” You ask. You remember him telling you about it, but you can’t quite recall what he’s actually supposed to do.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Are you arguing with Nietzsche?”

He laughs. “Not sure yet.”

“I think you should,” you hum. “I’d laugh.”

“I can’t believe my assignment is basically me writing fanfiction about me and Diogenes hanging out,” he grins.

“Actually yeah, write about him,” you snort. “I, too, would like to find an honest man.”

Suga chuckles. “Unfortunately, that’s not gonna help me get a good mark.”

“You’re going to get a good mark,” you say, pouting at him. “You always do.”

“Bold of you to put that much confidence in me,” he scoffs. “I haven’t even started writing it yet.”

“Have you planned it out?”

“Kind of?”

“Well, what’s your key argument?” You ask. You enjoy talking to him like this; unpicking his brain, finding out what he thought about the world. He always had something interesting to say, a thought to share about life in general.

 “I mean…” Suga sighs. “I always sorta figured that if life doesn’t inherently mean anything, then we’ve got a choice, right?”

“A choice?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What do you mean?” You shift yourself in his lap, your legs now dangling over the armrest. 

Suga pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment. “Well… you’re not morally beholden to anyone, right?” 

“Uh huh…” You nod slowly. 

“So… why wouldn’t you want to choose to do the kind thing? It’s not hard.”

You bite your lip. “But if you’re not ‘morally beholden’ to anyone, then what’s the point of being kind?” 

“You know… it’s the decent thing to do.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “And it feels good.” 

“But why?” 

“Do you disagree with me?” 

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’m just trying to help you solidify your argument.” 

“Ah, playing devil’s advocate, I see,” he grins. 

You flick him in the forehead gently. “How dare you.” 

“I’m just waiting for you to destroy me with facts and logic,” he teases, grinning at you. His eyes are much brighter now, twinkling with mirth. 

“Well,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair. “Presuming I did destroy you with facts and logic, then what would you say in response?” 

“Okay,” Suga sits up a little straighter, a determined glint in his eyes. “You know the whole ‘existence precedes essence’ thing, right?” 

“Kind of?” 

“Well, the basic principle is that we exist before anything else,” he begins. “That sounds obvious, but what it’s trying to get at is that our consciousness exists before anything else. There is no ‘essential nature’ to any of us.” 

“Right,” you nod. 

“So, we create our own values, our own meanings, because we don’t have any inherently,” he continues. “We have to make them ourselves, and that’s how we give our existence significance.” 

You hum in response. 

“A lot of people get kind of down if they believe there’s no inherent meaning to life, but that just means there so much more freedom. And there’s power in that freedom.” 

“What do you mean, exactly?” You ask. You’ve had these sorts of conversations before, but he’s been getting better and better at articulating himself. If anything, he seems relieved by it. 

“The essential meaninglessness of life isn’t a burden, it’s a chance to define ourselves and where we want to go,” he continues. 

“Mhm,” you nod, paying him the attention he deserves. 

“We may be meaningless in the grand scheme of the universe, but that means we’re free.” 

“How so?” You ask. 

He considers your question for a moment, a tiny pout on his lips. “We’re not inherently ‘good,’ but we’re not inherently ‘selfish’ either. We get to choose.” 

“Right,” you nod. “But… won’t some people find that overwhelming?”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“Isn’t that just the whole absurdity thing?” You’re trying to find the right words, to call on all the concepts you remember him telling you about. You may be no philosophy student, but you know Suga won’t judge. “You know, the… the contradiction between finding meaning and purpose in an inherently chaotic and meaningless world?” 

“Oh, right,” he nods. “Well… the absurd itself isn’t the problem, per se. If anything, one of the best things you can do is to accept that absurdity, even if it’s difficult.” 

“Yes, life is absurd,” he stresses. “Yes, it can be hard to find the motivation to press on when you feel that life is meaningless.” 

You wonder, for a moment, if he’s speaking from experience. 

“The idea is that you live on in-spite of that,” he smiles. “It’s like a big middle finger to a universe that doesn’t care about you.” 

“So… by deciding what matters to you is a way of biting back at a world that doesn’t care?” 

“Exactly!” He beams. “Freedom means we create our own meanings, and can find satisfaction in our lives by figuring out what we really want and how we feel we should live best,” he continues. “And it means that instead of having to worry about our ‘inherent, essential goodness’, we get to define ourselves by our actions -- people can claim that humans are inherently selfish, but we’re not.” 

He’s glowing now, eyes shining and cheeks bright. He really is beautiful. And good. So, so good. 

“Because neither behaviour is encoded in us, we’re responsible for the choices we make. We choose to be cruel, or we choose to be kind. We can choose to be good.” 

“And you think most people would do that?” You ask. 

“I’m not naive,” he sighs, “but I do think most people would want to do right by others. Not all. But most.” 

He takes a deep breath, looking to the sky once more. You follow his gaze upwards. 

“I just…” His voice is quiet now, almost as if he’s praying. “We’re all thrown into this absurd world, and we can make it easier for one another.” 

You press a gentle kiss to his temple, your heart feeling fuzzier than ever. 

Suga looks at you with the gentlest smile, a bright spark in his eyes. “We can bear the burden of the human condition together and show each other compassion.”

You run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp with the tips of your fingers. 

He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, still smiling. “And the way I see it… if there’s no inherent meaning or purpose to the way things are, then there’s no reason to succumb to suffering.” 

“That’s a bit bold of you,” you chuckle. 

“I’m not saying that suffering is unavoidable or anything, but I mean, like…” He frowns, trying to unpick the implications of his own words. “Of course, there’ll be things you can’t escape and things that’ll fucking suck. I just mean that... You don’t have to do anything. In that sense, you can pursue what you want to pursue, prioritise the things that make you happy…”

“I see.” 

“I’m not saying that life’s a free-for-all either. Like, I’m not saying that it’s okay for people to be awful to each other,” he continues. “And I understand that the world we live in places limits on us and what we can conceivably do…”  

“What, like the… struggling artist thing?” You clarify. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I know that it’s not that simple and everything won’t work out just because you want it to. I just think… if it makes you happy then… then it’s worth a try.” 

He sits back in the chair, sinking into the cushions. “But… I don’t know,” he sighs. “It’s hard to articulate.” 

“That’s okay,” you smile. “You’re making sense to me.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if my tutors have that same insight into my brain.” 

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” you giggle, shifting yourself in his lap. “Can you think of a good one-liner?” You ask, tilting your head at him. 

“Hm…” He muses for a moment, tilting his head upwards. “At the end of the day, I just think that… we have a choice to be kind. Why wouldn’t you be?” 

You laugh. “Why would you say something so brave and yet so controversial?”

“Isn’t that meme outdated now?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can never keep up with what the young people are doing these days.”

He snorts. “What are you, seventy-two?”

“In body, no,” you shake your head. “But in spirit?”

“Great, I’m dating a geriatric.”

“You knew this going into it,” you giggle. “I’ve just been burdened with age. There’s no space in my heart for optimism anymore.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Suga grins, gazing at you fondly.

“I like that about you,” you smile, smoothing a thumb over his cheek.

“I just think that there’s a lot of good out there if you look for it,” he shrugs, his words earnest and sincere. “I know the world isn’t that simple and that there’s plenty of horrible things too, but…” He chews his lip, eyes softening as he once again looking to the sky. “I want to contribute to the world as best as I can.”

You watch him as he watches the stars. You wonder if he knows he’s the brightest amongst them. If he knows how much joy and light, he’s brought to everyone who’s had the privilege of loving him. It’s a gift to be counted amongst them.

You’ve been told that people are made of stardust, but Suga makes you believe it.

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting the warmth in your chest diffuse through your body. “I love you.”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure he can outshine the moon.

“I love you too.”  

[irkenheretic]

A Found Family AU With The Control Brains Could Actually Work, And Here’s Why

This all started as a spite-born joke, but honestly the more that I thought about it, the better it sounded to me. 

First off, this meta is gonna be going purely off canon materials. I will interpret certain lines to mean certain things, but there’ll be an alternate explanation if you don’t agree with that interpretation. 

Second, this meta is going to assume that the Control Brains are three- or more- separate entities. Which is actually supported because of this line:

Singular pronoun! 

Now that that’s out of the way, I’m gonna be judging this by a three-part metric, and going into what we actually know (and don’t know) about the Control Brains. (Spoilers: We don’t know much, and the most popular idea of their role in the Empire is pure fanon.)

Metric one is Do these characters like each other? (And if not, could these characters realistically like each other in the future?)

And judging by The Trial, I’d say... yes, actually! They seem to get along just fine. First off, they’re able to cooperate enough to conduct trial without fighting. Second, they don’t seem to be putting up with each other and act on amicable terms.

YMMV, but I see these lines as them quipping with each other. It’s kinda subtle, and lost in the fact that they both speak in monotone, but they seem kinda snarky in the same way Zim’s computer is. 

(And if they were annoyed by each other, we’d know- the Brains are capable of expressing emotions like annoyance, we see them get ticked off at Zim multiple times.)

And even if they didn’t like each other, or are only presenting as friendly to keep public image up, they could still feasibly like each other. The main appeal of ZADR/ZADF is that both Zim and Dib dislike each other but are in similar societal positions, with unique experiences that only the other can relate to. Therefore they could learn to connect using that shared experience. And whatever experience the Control Brains have being Control Brains, the only other beings that share that experience are other Brains. They’d end up getting along out of sheer desperation, at some point. You can’t spend eternity with someone and not like them at least a little eventually.

Which brings us to metric two: Do these characters deserve a family at all?

Again, I actually would argue yes. Hear me out.

So, it’s a popular (albeit unspoken) opinion in fandom that “good” characters deserve nice things like a family, and “bad” characters don’t. If you’re a fan of redemption arcs, the scope of what is a “good” character broadens, but there are still some characters even the most open-hearted of redemption-lovers won’t touch. The Control Brains, across the board, seem to fall into the latter category every single time. 

But what have they actually done wrong? Like, canonically.

In The Trial, they conduct Zim’s Existence Evaluation. This is their job and we can infer they’ve done it before.

In The Frycook What Came From All That Space, we see one of them re-encode Zim from Invader to Frycook. 

In Tak: The Hideous New Girl, one of them doesn’t let Tak retake her test.

And that’s it.

“But they rule the entire Empire-” Nope, that’s just fanon!

“But the Zim Wiki says-” In the words of Eric Trueheart, "The Invader ZIM fandom wiki is a wonderful labor of love by some very dedicated people, but it's wrong at least 25% of the time."

But fine. Let’s look at exactly what the Zim Wiki says. From the page of the Control Brains themselves, it says that the “Control Brains run the empire and their conclusions even have to be accepted by the Tallest, which means that the Tallest have no real authority over the people of Irk, and are simply figureheads (not unlike a constitutional monarchy).”

But when do we see this? Well, during the end of The Trial, the Tallest have no power to overturn their ruling. 

But do you know what that sounds like?

A FUCKING JUDGE.

If the President goes on trial, he still has to defer to the judge. That doesn’t mean that the judge is secretly in control of America and that the President is just a puppet on strings. It just means that the judge is doing his job and the President isn’t running around completely unchecked. (Please refrain from making the obvious President jokes on this post. I get it, I hate him too, but... please lemme have this post.)

There is no real evidence in the show proper to suggest that the Control Brains are all-powerful tyrants and that the Tallest are at their mercy.

And, really, would you talk like that to someone that held your life in their cold, unfeeling robot arms?

So, bottom line is, the Control Brains in the show act like judge, jury, and executioner in trials. That’s it, that’s all they do. Just because they’re called the Control Brains doesn’t mean they control everything. They could just control the trials. “Controller” could be the Irken word for “Judge,” and that’s where the name was derived from. Mechanical judges. 

“But they’re still defending awful things!” Okay, I see your point there, random person I made up to argue with on my meta post.

Which begs the question: Why? Why are the Brains acting like that? 

Well, they’re computers, right? Computers built to serve a purpose, and their purpose is this. That’s it, right? But they’re sentient. If they didn’t like it, they could protest! The fact that they don’t protest makes them complicit, and Bad Characters, right?

Guys... they’re computers.

What do you do to a computer that stops working the way you want it to?

We don’t know what the Brains think about their job. They could love it, they could hate it, they could see it as a necessary evil, they could be completely apathetic after centuries of doing it (if they’re even that old, which again, is not confirmed.)

But IF they didn’t like it... the hell are they supposed to do about it? They’re important pieces of machinery, possibly swarmed by techs ready to correct any sign of them not working right. They could have some sort of programmed-in limitation to keep them obedient. They could’ve tried, with disastrous results. They’re not like Zim. They can’t just quit. They’re computers rooted in place, closely watched for defects, and they have nowhere to go.

(And even if they did leave, who would take them in? Where could they go? Even if they downloaded themselves into PAKs or into robot bodies, the adjustment period from being a giant invulnerable heavily guarded computer to something that needs to actually fend for itself would be maddening and possibly dangerous.)

And honestly? I love Zim to bits, but he did wreck the planet and he did deserve exile. They’re just carrying out the sentence. He did cause many many disasters in Irk’s history. Plus, the Tallest were the ones that trialed him in the first place, but they have fans!

The worst thing they’ve done, unprovoked, is not let Tak retake her test. Or, more specifically, they made her wait to retake the test. We don’t even know why! Did they go “You couldn’t even get out of a room so we don’t want to send you to an enemy planet?” Did they go “You have to wait because half of Devastis is down and we’re working on half-power and half the space?” We don’t know! We literally do not know! (Plus that was only one of them.)

And I’m gonna say it: if Zib “I’m going to strand and brainwash Zims in order to commit multidimensional genocide” Membrane deserves a family, then so do the Control Brains because at least they didn’t do THAT in ACTUAL CANON.

There’s no good transition to metric three, so I’m just gonna say it: Do these characters want a family?

This part is short: We don’t know. 

They could think the idea of a family is stupid and antiquated. They could not know what a family is at all. They could want a family. They could see the entire Empire as their family. They could already see each other as a family. 

We don’t know! The concept of a family never comes up during their appearances, so we have no way to know their thoughts on the subject.

Good thing fandom is transformative and we can make headcanons n’junk! (And really, who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned “character/characters don’t want a family and are gruff and standoffish but over time warm up to the others and they end up super close” found family story?)

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that. Also that the Control Brains are pretty funny characters in The Trial. 

I just like these guys a lot and I wish other people explored them more outside of the “these are the token evil badguys” role they fill every. Single. TIME.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.