#it almost certainly relates to one of the special contents

[cometchasr]

victory i got to see the cgs from an earlier version of 煦风新笺 (the android apk from some chinese website, ver. 1.3.1) (rpa files in current are encrypted and im lazy). and everything else too! i love the main menu theme so much

all the names are in garbled cyrillic, though. xdd

also still not sure why "stationery" is in the game logo. its very strange.

[lurkingshan]

I've been in multiple tumblr fandoms over the years and the same shit comes up over and over again wrt arguments about how we all engage with our chosen media on here, so here are a few things to keep in mind that have helped me along the way:

Not everyone is going to engage in the same way as you, and that's good, actually. Some people are purely here to gush over the things they like. Some people are here to do deep analytical breakdowns which will include criticism. Some people are cheerleaders. Some people are haters. A lot of people are a mix of both depending on what they're talking about on any given day. It's all good and valid, and it's what gives this space variety, allows us to learn from each other, and keeps it interesting.

The filter, unfollow, and block functions are your friend. If you love a mutual but hate the volume or the way they talk about a certain thing, just add it to your filtered tags (relatedly: tag your shit so people can filter you when needed!). If you consistently don't vibe with the way a person chooses to engage on here, just unfollow them. If you find them actively offensive or detrimental to your mental health, hit that block button, baby. We are all anonymous internet strangers and no one will die.

Someone expressing a different opinion from yours is not a personal attack on you. If someone hates a thing you like, they are not calling you stupid for liking it. If they love a thing you hate, there's nothing wrong with them, they are just taking something different from it than you are. That shit is all about you and your own insecurities, don't try to put it on them.

Vague posting is rude. If you want to directly respond to something someone said to get better clarity about what they meant, reply to their post or shoot them an ask or DM and talk to them about it. If you simply want to express a counterpoint without directly engaging them, just post your own take without vaguely alluding to them and building what is almost certainly a strawman of their original point. People you're vaguing can see you on here, folks. Don't be a dick.

Credit and reblog other people's ideas when you are building on them, and be kind to the creators who provide the artwork that make this place so special and unique. Reblogging is the lifeblood of this website. It's the only way people get to see content that is by anyone they don't follow, and the gifmakers on here in particular put in so much time and effort to give us beautiful images--share their work and tell them you appreciate it! You also don't have to agree with every single word of a meta post to reblog it (why would you expect to, it comes from a different brain than yours), and you absolutely should be crediting people and sharing their words when they sparked something that inspired your own thoughts. This is just being a good community member.

Embrace the difference between meta and fanwanking. Meta writing is analysis of the actual media content as it is presented, with arguments based in the canon text. Fanwanking is doing your own work to fill in gaps or create headcanons to supplement the canon text. Some people prefer content that leaves a lot of gaps because they love to creatively fanwank; some people prefer to be told complete stories without having to do all that extra work to make them make sense. These are both very cool and fun ways to engage, but when you're fanwanking be aware that those ideas are all coming from you, not the actual media being discussed, so others might not vibe with your interpretation.

When posting your own opinions, try to be clear about where you're coming from and why. If you have a personal experience or bias that is affecting your read, own it. If you're looking at a piece of media from a specific angle related to your own interests and learning, say that. It helps other people to know where you're coming from and why you're thinking about something in a certain way that can then help them puzzle out why they feel differently.

You don't owe anyone your presence here, and you don't have to express opinions on everything or respond to tags or asks if you don't have anything to say. Sometimes you might just want to take a break from posting, some things in the discourse might just flow right on by you, sometimes you will not have a firm opinion on a debate. You can post as much or as little as you want. You can suddenly decide you don't want to talk about a show anymore. You can not log into your tumblr for days or weeks at a time. Do you, boo!

Most people come to tumblr because they do want to engage with others, and this place can be a lot of fun if you just take what you need from it and let things that aren't serving you go.

[fadelbison]

Thoughts on Joongdunk divorce and PR for branded pairs

so I read about the Joongdunk divorce era related ongoing drama and I have to say the thoughts I have are...perhaps very crazy but - sorry I have permanent brain damage from House MD - it fits. So take my opinion with grains of salt or better yet dont take it at all and just enjoy the conspiracy theory of it all. I'm fairly sure Joong is faking it and im pretty sure khaotung is...not faking whatever this 'I am going to fuck first against the nearest surface' vibe he has going on but he's certainly playing it up/into every moment like he's in a olympics style marathon thats just rail and be railed by your best friend.

Out of all the GMM men I follow, I follow Khaotung and Joong the closest and I would also say of the people I follow these two are the most likely to lie through their teeth about every single thing. And we already know that Joong has been helping FK but kind of particularly khaotung get more socmed savvy. So there is definitely some thread here to believe that PR discussions have occurred at least between Joong and FK but more likely between all four.

And the reason why I believe the Joongdunk divorce era is fake? It's becuase the thing between Joong and Est *was* real and Joong handled it completely differently. I had no idea it had happened even though I've been following Joong on IG through that entire time not until I went to twitter. I realized that whole thing was falling apart ONLY because people were talking about it. Joong's own posting was very staunchly business as usual.

And suddenly for his own branded pair right before a critical show who's success doesn't only affect him? What is he doing? Hanging neon signs that he's getting divorced. You're telling me to believe that Joong is middle school shading Dunk where even *I* could notice. Yes, I thought it was mega weird when he promo'd the THK release with pictures of him and FK but not Dunk. By this point, they *must* be aware of how people are talking about the Joongdunk divorce and what does Dunk do? Post a picture with FK but not Joong in the middle of it.

Really? Hours before the premiere?

See, the options here to me are:

1) Joong (and Dunk) has undergone a sudden and TOTAL personality change where he's suddenly inept at doing PR

or the crazier and yet to me the more likely scenario:

2) It's staged

And why would one do that? Why take the risk right before THK? To drum up engagement obviously. See we know that companies only care for numbers, these tweets and IG comments and likes are all going into some graphical format presentation in front of a guy who doesn't know or give two shits about what a divorce era is. So people talking about JD because their hobby is sniffing each other’s crotches or because they can’t stand each other is the exact same thing.

But how does Khaotung and his diabolical mind play into it, why did I bring him up in the beginning? We know that Fadel and Style start out as enemies…so like who's fucking playbook is that? Matching your promo to the dynamic of your characters? Who is the olympics gold winner in cosplaying your characters cosplaying as yourself?

I know people forget things week to week on socmed. But First and Khaotung were barely present during THK filming, soms were more or less only getting FK content from THK official twitter than First or Khaotung.

Khaotung was doing more fanservice with Joong than First at one point and he had a flurry of solo events during which soms were once more fractured between special treatment for Khaotung versus First [FK themselves were honeymooning in Busan and we got nothing other than the most brain damaging story about First scouring Busan for a hat Khaotung wanted and two posts of Khaotung ass up in their room that First must have taken].

Suddenly almost on the dot a month before THK release? They dialed the heat up without a reciprocal heat dialing up of Joongdunk. Summer Night definitely got in the way of that where Joong was giving Dunk a polite wide berth on IG liking and commenting on Summer Night stuff but not doing any CP related things.

So First and Khaotung suddenly act like they can't function without sampling each other's dicks thrice a day while Joong and Dunk stay business as usual. One pair taking the lion's share of THK hype is not a good thing for the other pair and genuinely I was like is JD really okay taking up second fiddle spot to FK for WEEKS. Lo and behold, days before THK all people can talk about is JD.

Anyway the following is an honest to god real photo of me writing this insane post. I just think things are going really well for Joong despite it all and I don't think it's on accident.

[fatuismooches]

HEHE HAIHAI SMOOCHES ITS ME ANON WHO CANT STOP THINKING ABT FAILURE AND DELTA SEGMENTS SINCE U ASKED SO NICELY U SHALL RECIEVE MORE BRAINROTS thud time a cute little imagine? scenario? (i have no idea hut we roll) with failure segment

Since this segment doesn’t acknowledge anyone other than fragile!reader (and prime i think) i imagine that when the agents are assigned with tasks related to this segment, they feel immense reluctance.. but worry not! fragile!reader to the rescue!

Imagine one of the times where reader is sat on his table, trapped between his arms as he stares at them (this is a regular occurrence atp), an unlucky fatui agent assigned to retrieve something from this segments’ office comes in and asks for said thing, they get ignored as usual, so fragile! reader, being the kind and gentle soul they are take it upon themselves to help them, since theyre the only person this segment would willingly listen to without facing any difficulties.

So the reader repeats the agents’ question but less nervously and in a more softer tone, they stroke his cheeks with their thumbs as he gets lost in the soft glint in their eyes, and almost as if hypnotised, he nods along to the sound of their lovely voice and in a voice so low he answers the reader, then points to the direction of said object the agent was assigned to get. The agent takes it and walks off (almost darts out tbh), and reader just kisses the segment as thank you, i imagine he keeps his half lidded eyes open whenever fragile!reader presses their lips against his, but just for a couple of seconds, i like to think he mainly does this to memorize the feeling of the moment, how soft their lips feel, the way you look so content kissing him, the feeling of your hands on his cheeks (how they’re no longer as cold as he remembers them to be when you were in a comatose state), the feeling of yearning and love in his chest, etc.

And only then does he closes his eyes shut to enjoy the moment even more.

And then when you try to pull away, he doesn’t let you. He lightly places a hand under your chin and a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you back for a peck, a peck turns into two, then he goes in for thirds and fourths and its like he can’t get enough of the sweet taste of your lips (honestly none of the segments nor Dottore himself can get enough). I know it was stated that this segment doesnt initiate physical affection since he’s content with watching you go about your day from afar, but i like to imagine that although occasionally, he sometimes reciprocates double the affection you give him, its like he’s lost control of his own movements and moves in a trance. And then reader can’t take anymore because of how flustered and breathless they feel and immediately bury their face in the crook of his neck, with their arms wrapped tight around him as he sigh in contentment.

Their face burns even more when he absentmindedly murmurs in that voice of his about the feel of their lips as if he was documenting checkup results so close to their ear.

hehe this was fun to write but i did not beta read at sll :3c can i be 🐙 anon pretty pleasr C:

(x) Although being asked to speak to any of the segments is a challenging task for the average person, Zeta is a special case. Each segment is unique in their own way, perhaps loud and crazy, or calm yet intimidating, but at least they can communicate with their underlings. Zeta, on the other hand, has very little contact with the regular Fatuis, only capable of working in solitude considering his state of mind. Most agents are forced to return empty-handed and instead fetch another segment to help. He's not seen very often either - it's either Prime's office, his office, the hallways to and from, and maybe his room. So Zeta certainly isn't a segment one would want to deal with, especially since his ticks and likes are vastly unknown to the general Fatui... (the handbook is severely lacking in this area...)

But despite the air around Zeta, you weren't scared off in the slightest, and of course, found yourself snuggling with him in due time. His general demeanor was far different from the other segments but that wasn't an issue, you found it endearing but also quite sad at how gently he treated you as if you were glass that was just about to break... you wanted to try and show him how you were still stronger than that! (Despite your frail health.)

You didn't expect helping him with his job to be part of spending time with him, but you're not mad. Rather, you find it a bit cute how he's willing to listen and indulge your wishes. (The handbook definitely has a rule like - [Name] 100% has magic powers. Definitely an angel bestowed upon us.) Meanwhile, Zeta has no issue with this, in fact, he finds it reminiscent of all the times you used to ask favors from him, when you used to rely on him for anything and everything. So now that finally you're awake, alive, smiling, he wants you to rely on him again. (Though he does find it a bit annoying how nice you are to these agents, he'd prefer to help you with your own requests...)

You can never really predict when Zeta will have one of those days when he needs to kiss you all over, and although it catches you off guard you will never not reciprocate. You know how long he's had to watch you be motionless, and you need to make up for that time. It's also kind of funny because while all the other segments fluster you on purpose, Zeta doesn't realize it sometimes.

[fiikaela]

By the Blades We Meet

the rest of the sudden burst of inspo i had on that day

Chapter one if you missed it, just gives context

--

Chapter two

The cloth ran over your sharp katana, wiping off the dirt that you can't even see. You had been allowed to have your own weapon, but only after thorough examination to make sure it isn't "booby-trapped". You stared at the silvery white blade, at the sunlight that reflected warmly at you. The weight sat comfortably in your hand, but you could almost hear your father's lectures about how a girl shouldn't hold a weapon.

"It was foolish decision! Why would you give her a damned sword out of anything?!"

Your parents were both Shiekah, your father an esteemed something for the Royal family. He had those beautiful locks of silver hair and a perfect face that can swoop any woman off her feet, a woman just like your mother. You don't know much about their prior relationship, but it certainly wasn't a happy one after you had been born. He seems to never be home, always on something away in the royal family, and your mother had left almost after your birth. It's one of those classic tragic family situations.

Not that you ever minded.

At least, the villagers were sympathetic of you, allowing you to hang around with them as they did their daily chores. You often spent long hours with different villagers, watching them as they went about their own business. An attempted Yiga attempt on attacking the village had ignited your interest at a young age at martial arts and sword fighting as you watched the people fending them off skillfully.

You also grew a love for food, or anything that's related to it. When the adults get boring, you would go and spend a lot of time with village kids, playing hide and seek and gathering ingredients for a cooking session everyone would join in. You weren't great at it first, but after some research with books you borrowed from village elders, you slowly became one of the best. You would also teach them about the special effects each ingredients have, and even the history about a particular type of food. All the villages kids would gather at your side as you told them the story. It was quite fun when you were young until you first tasted the thrill of fighting, after you have given your first katana and defeated one of the village adults who taught you a few tricks.

But of course, your father was not content about his daughter being a "tomboy" and playing with swords. That argument went quite extreme, shouts and anger that almost had the whole village over.

"Hey, you there?" A voice on top snapped you back into reality. One of the Gerudo trainees had stood up, a golden spear in her hand as she glanced down at you. "Getting cold feet already?" She mocked, "it's not too late to apply for a clown."

You laughed at her stabbing remark, sheathing your blade and standing up. "Well, I guess it's time to bring the monkey to a training, don't you think?" It was a dangerous remark, but she merely huffed.

"Get up, I have no time to waste on feeble Hylians."

You shrugged as the other women scooted away to stand behind the man and their commander, leaving ample space for both of you. The entire time, you felt the man's gaze boring into you. You never turned to confirm it, knowing it's only but a waste of time.

She dashed toward you, her spear ready to make a harsh struck. You were a bit surprised at the speed, ducking over her side before turning to aim on her back. She turned quickly, her spear clashing with your katana. The strength was not bad, and probably even stronger than yours.

But it all felt like a choreographed dance.

One down. Two down. Three down. The glint of surprise in their eyes as your blade shone coldly against their neck. The commander was getting more agitated each one you defeat, and the challengers more excited after the other.

It wasn't boring, at least, more fun than the creep you defeated along the way. It was something akin to defeating those esteemed sword masters, aside that this time it was all towering Gerudo women.

Again, you won all the duels, much to your own disappointment. The commander unsheathed her scimitar, walking over to you with a furious look in her eyes. But she was stopped by the king, who had a mysterious grin on his face.

"I want to duel with her." He said, the commander behind her widened her eyes, she opened her mouth to say something out of indignation, but he waved an arm to silence her. What a rude gesture, you thought as you looked at them, indifferent of their arguing. As long as you are fighting someone, it's ok. You supposed the man wasn't just a mediocre ruler - you saw the way his fingers glide over the sword slanted on his side, with relaxation and familiarity that only a person proficient in it would have.

The commander's shoulder slump a bit in defeat. The man looked at you in an oddly solemn way. "You fought over twenty of my sisters, it would be unfair to have you start again so soon."

Translation: your stamina must be weak. You huffed coldly, "it's alright."

He smiled, then begin to stalk over at you slowly. You saw a glimpse of a winning smirk on the commander's face as she retreated backwards with everyone else, who all stared at you.

"Shiekah, you have quite some skills up your sleeves. I wonder, did my sisters manage to pull out every single one of them?"

Ah… so he knew you weren't using your full skillset. You tilted your head, a smile ghosting over your lips. "What do you think, your Majesty?" You questioned, putting almost a provoking tone on the last part. He had a hand on the handle of his sword, which to your utter shock, was a katana. He noticed your reaction and chuckled, looking down at his blade before locking your eyes again.

"Seems like a fitting punishment for your disrespect towards I and my sisters, hm?" He taunted, his eyes playful. You pursed your lips, pulling your best unamused look.

"Seems like your ego need to be brushed down a bit." You muttered, lowering your body into a fighting stance as your hand clenched around the handle. He gave you something like a smirk, before you heard the blade unsheathe.

His katana clashed into yours, the sheer strength making your feet slide on the sandy floor. He was fast, he was so fast you barely noticed him launching at you. It almost caught you off guard, the easy fights you had before made you assume that his large stature would stagnate his speed, but obviously not being the case.

"Oh, did the little warrior lose her touch already?" He snickered down at you, his lips pulling back to reveal a row of white teeth and two canines that looked like just a little too sharp, "or is she just too flustered to face a man?" His voiced lowered to almost a purr, to which you rolled your eyes. Soon enough you won't be barking out stupid taunts like that.

You shifted your feet, using the movement to cancel out the grip he trapped you in, ducking to aim at the handle on his weapon. You don't expect anything to happen, but it was worth a try. Of course, he turned around just as quickly, blocking your attack with an array of his own, forcing you to step back until you have to jump out of his way to avoid him.

Damn. He is good at this.

You felt excitement rushing through you, your heart beating fast as the thrill of fighting a particularly dangerous opponent washes over your head. A smile unknowingly beamed on your face, to which he responded with one of his own mysterious ones. You don't know what he means by that smile: it's like a smirk, a grin, and some vague meaning mashed together.

"Don't be nervous, you are free to use any skills. Even sorcery."

So he also knows about that… it dawned on you that he was taking this just as serious as you are, testing the waters to earn any more valuable information.

You hummed quietly, choosing to ignore him. To be honest, he's quite a talkative one during a fight, not that you minded. You pounced at him, and just as you expected, he swung his sword. Why wouldn't he? An opponent is usually vulnerable in midair. To his surprise however, your feet landed on his blade, using it to jump up higher before dashing down to aim at the gold piece hung around his neck.

"Not bad." You heard his remark as your blade was once blocked again by another blade. He had two weapons on his hand. You smirked, it wasn't like he's the only one who had something hidden up their sleeve. Your left hand thrusted up, a small dagger blurring in the speed of movement toward his neck. "Going in for the risky moves now, aren't we?" To your surprise, his other katana blocked it, trapping your hand into a duel of strength. It wasn't ideal.

You tried to swoop his leg to tip him off balance but he just as quickly shifted over. You took the small chance and slipped from his grasp, jumping to a safe distance.

"So fierce… Was winning my sisters lifting your head too much in the clouds?" He sniggered, sheathing his other sword behind him.

"Was watching them lose against me putting a hole in your poor heart?" You taunted back, even though you knew you may need to pay for that later. Besting him in a combat seems difficult, and that's all you are here for.

You waited, contemplating a plan in your head. Both of you didn't manage to land a single hit on either, and it was clearly agitating you both. You began to pace, him following suit, circulating each other like birds on prey.

His form flashed in front of your eyes as you ducked down instinctively, hearing the wind whooshing to top of your head before throwing your dagger back. It spun in a perfect parabola before speeding back to you. You caught it, noticing the redness that slowly dripped down it's edge.

The king looked at you, there was a light cut on his arm. He raised an eyebrow at the wound.

"Impressive." He complimented, nodding his head at you, "seems like I need to be a little more serious, hm?". You ignored his musings, ready for his attack again. He was so lofty, but he have the skills to back it up.

You don't know how long it went on, metal clashing against metal, wind that knocks past your body just a bit too close, grins that exposed sharp canines, sand sliding underneath your feet. The afternoon sunlight slowly died into the evening. You were so close, cuts now lining your body just as it lined his body, with yours being the one with more, obviously. You felt a bit out of sync, your rhythm faltering slightly.

And he took the chance.

You found yourself face to face with the king, his cold, glimmering blade pressed lightly against the delicate flesh of your neck. If he pushed just a bit more, the tip will graze through your skin. You looked down at the blade, then looked up into his gold eyes. They looked like honey in the soft glows of the evening, his red locks flowing like the fierce afterglow of the sun.

You… lost. For the first time in years, you have lost. It was refreshing, excitement coursing through you as you gazed up at the man. His expression had turned soft, sweat coated his muscles.

"I didn't quite catch your name yet." He said, his voice just a bit out of breath.

Your voice came out as almost a cracked whisper, surprising you to the core. You answered, realizing just how tired you were, panting for oxygen. It wasn't unusual for your usual trainings, but instead now you felt relaxed, almost like home.

"You?" You asked, trying to calm down your drumming heart. You felt hot, perhaps in need of a drink of water, or something.

"Ganondorf." He smiled, lowering his blade before sheathing it back. His eyes fixated on you.

"I still didn't make you use all your secret arts, Shiekah." He shook his head, you weren't sure if you were imagining a small smile on his lips, "rest well, I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, alive." He waved his hand, walking off with the Gerudo women and into what you assumed the palace.

You didn't know you also had a quiet smile on your own. You picked up your blade off the ground, feeling your legs ache and every muscle groaning for rest. Your heart was still thumping, pacing in your ribcage despite the fact you have already caught your breath. The evening glow brought a cool breeze up your body, you felt thankful for once at the exposing Gerudo attire as the wind graced over you with a coolness of the night. Clouds bloomed with shades of pink and orange as you picked up your beloved katana, sheathing it back and walking off to find the inn, where you would be looked after with gasps and concerned voices, and get a good nights sleep.

What you didn't see was after Ganondorf left with all that ease and pride he showed you, he'd turn over the first corner out of sight, his large hand clutched onto the closest column as the metallic taste finally exploded on his tongue, becoming the redness that oozed over his closed lips. His other hand clung to his ribs, grabbing the garment as he dubbed over slightly, pain racking up his body.

He thought he was unbeatable, that he'd already be numb to pain after that ten thousand years, bending over in an unnatural, sickening way, unable to move a single muscle. But how wrong you have proved him to be.

Blood rushed to his lips again, he stared, almost helplessly, as the red slowly dribbled down his chin and unto the marbled floor beneath. He heard concerned, hushed whispers of other women and a clatter of footsteps as they rushed over with cloth and medicine, asking if their king was alright.

He is fine. No. He's more than fine. His whole body burnt with the exertion from earlier, his heart beating with a newfound vigor. He had won your dual, but only by a sliver that he cannot even begin to measure, and he is deeply impressed.

There, a new desire was ignited in his mind. And you, the one who put a Hylian pinecone on that blazing flame.

You.

--

thanks for reading! (if anyone read it)

i have no idea how to continue this now haha. Tried to add a bit more backstory for the reader. Im trying to avoid the use of y/n cuz personally it never rl worked for me

lemme know your thoughts below! constructive criticisms are welcome just try not to be too mean qwq

[aikesmenrouger]

“The political ace of cyberspace”

“The diplomatic director of Motherboard's political team”

“The political conspiracy crusher”

“HIERONYMOUS HACKER”

An idea that I wonder if anyone noticed

Hacker can actually be a great politician if he changes himself, He posses the same intelligence as his father, Dr.Marbles, and excellent political talent (and perhaps even better than his mother, Motherboard). I personally think that this kind of business acumen can be very keen to identify the interests of various countries and seek benefits for the cyberspace.

More importantly, he used to be a villain, a villain who would do anything to achieve his own ends, and this machiever way of thinking can help him easily see through other people's sugar coating and even mild political intrigues.

Marbles and Motherboard are brilliant politicians, but they need Hacker to help them discover the machinations of Marbles and Motherboard, who are in danger of falling into a trap set by others because of their good intentions to care about everyone in cyberspace.

Therefore, in order to match the Hacker of this period, I redesigned his image. The image I designed for Hacker at the beginning was based on the pictures of his youth, but later I realized that the reason why he specially transformed his body to be so large was that he admired power, and he wanted to give people the impression that he was powerful. I don't think he'd want to be that small even if he'd gone straight, but his body proportions are a little hard for me to accept. So I referenced the body of an average adult and used the hair of a young hacker, and finally settled on a draft of this image, which I will try to draw digitally in the future.

In terms of personality, the reformed Hacker is a bit more stable than before, and a bit of a gangster, if any of you have seen the Three-Body Problem, Hacker's personality may be a little bit Shiqiang (certainly not the Netflix TV version of the Three-Body Problem）When Motherboard and Marbles are distracted, he quickly takes over and helps them solve their problems.

Marbles and Motherboard are not surprised that Hacker went straight, and in fact the three eventually reconciled in a series of events. But for Motherboard and Marbles, it's hard to believe that they can make peace with Hacker (" It's a dream." They said.) Marbles didn't react much, but Motherboard cried and hugged Hacker, and then Motherboard fell asleep in Hacker's arms. (By the way, during the reconciliation process, all three of them went to regular counselors, The reason why Motherboard never gets better is because of Hacker, which is psychological. (One scene describes the three of them: Hacker gets his arms around Motherboard and Marbles, and the three of them laugh happily.)

Sometimes Hacker takes on an additional task: Getting Marbles, Motherboard, and Ada to bed from their late nights on the desk (Digit, Buzz, and Delete help recharge their late-night snack) (because cyberspace is so busy with so many things to deal with because of its relations with other countries, Several people can't even get a good rest) (illness is almost a common occurrence) (Hacker may be shown holding the motherboard in his arms and carrying her to the bed, then pushing Marbles and Ada to the bed to rest) (as well as holding the motherboard, weak from illness, (Past events made Motherboard have a vague sense of insecurity, and it is easy to have nightmares when outside and under pressure. The nightmare content generally includes: and Hacker in the second feud; Hunted by Miron; Hopper was killed; Marbles Ada was killed; Jackie, Matt, Inez was killed; Everyone in cyberspace is dead, no one is spared)

In terms of height, Hacker is higher than Marbles and Motherboard, Hacker > Motherboard > Marbles

In terms of politics, some national politicians described Hacker as "the only noteworthy opponent in the seven-member political team." That's why I was quoted in Time Magazine (the first three sentences were about Hacker in Time magazine, and I may try to draw the cover of Time magazine in the future) as "a man with the style of an ancient Chinese tactician."

Hacker has some physical skills, which allows him to protect himself in the war. (There will be pictures of hackers in military uniforms in the future)

Finally, there are some Hacker lines to end this article.

"We should be on our guard, Motherboard, they can't be that kind."

"Ha, see? What did I say, a bunch of bullies."

"So you're trying to get me to betray Motherboard? With these things?" (raising eyebrows)

"I suggest that your people look into the past logs of cyberspace and try to woo me again."

"Come over here, you fucking bastard."

[geneeste]

I’ve been ranting about this in the group chat, but the more I think about it, the angrier I get.

So J, our 10yo, took state testing before the break and apparently scored high on one of the reading sections. Now I put almost zero weight on testing like this, but this was a win for J in particular because she’s always struggled mightily with reading. But she did well on the test, and it was a confidence boost for her, but I’m fully aware she managed that because of reading interventions, and not because of “gifted” instruction.

Anyway, we got this email before the winter break:

So this is…weird. Especially this part:

Your child's performance on the CogAT indicates a need to gather more information in order to support the school team in making instructional decisions. Student scores in the 95th percentile or above initiate the Gifted Identification Referral Process, which includes gathering additional achievement, performance, and behavioral data for a comprehensive body of evidence.

All of the other kids save our youngest have been in gifted programs at some point, and in all of the seven school districts we’ve been in so far, I’ve never been asked to justify their selection for the program. Add to that, a 30-minute questionnaire seemed excessive, but I thought, hey, maybe this is just a standard I haven’t run into yet. (Also, neither linked letter elaborated on this; one was related to testing, and the second was this email in PDF form).

And then we got into the survey, y’all. Y’ALL.

I ran into the image limit for this post, so I can’t post the whole questionnaire, so I tried to pick the most egregious parts:

So. We start going through this thing and to say I was (am) livid is an understatement. Just. What the fuck.

Asking me to justify my kid’s specialness

Basing giftedness on totally irrelevant and also classist, ableist bullshit things like vocabulary, how quickly they learn something, attention span I COULD GO ON AND ON

Asking my kid to design instruction?? She’s ten fucking years old?

Asking my struggling reader, whom you’ve already identified as both needing reading intervention and having demonstrated huge growth, to give a fucking reading list to justify access to services?

I’m seriously so mad about the last part because talking about that question made J feel ashamed about how she dreads reading so she doesn’t actually read much, so when she does it’s short books and graphic novels, and we lost a lot of ground we’d gained about how she should be proud of her ability and progress. Fuckers.

So. We were not pleased. Here’s what I wrote back, which was almost certainly not as mean as I should have been:

My husband and I started this survey and although we completed it, I found it frustrating and prejudiced and genuinely insulting.

It is not at all clear what relevance many of the questions have to J’s academic ability and frankly with 4 neurodivergent children, 3 of whom (including J) having been in gifted programs previously, some of these questions were worded in ways that implied that a child had to think in a certain way in order to be gifted. For instance, why would a child needing some repetition to learn something mean that they can't be gifted? It's insulting and neuro-normative, to say the least.

I have never been asked to fill out a survey justifying my child's intellectual ability in order for my child to get access to educational services. I mean, what parent would answer otherwise? And what child wouldn't flourish when given engaging content?

I understand that district resources might be limited, but surely there is a less prejudiced and discriminatory way to screen for access to additional educational resources.

Here’s what the coordinator responded with:

Thank you for filling the survey out and for the feedback. The purpose of the survey is to gain valuable insight from parents about their child's strengths, interests and abilities that may not be evident in a school setting. We are looking to build a comprehensive portfolio of information to be used in the Gifted Identification Process to inform our programming and align it with student needs. The responses on the Gifted ID Referral form are not "weighted" or assigned points or used in any way that might preclude a child from Gifted Identification. They are used for informational purposes to gain a deeper understanding of a child.

Which is, frankly, total bullshit. Remember up there where the initial email where it said the survey was for instructional decisions and gathering a body of evidence? And the survey itself says:

Once this form is complete and submitted, your school's Gifted Education Facilitator will be notified. They will then gather additional necessary evidence/data to complete the process.

The coordinator has been so persistent since this reply - 4 emails asking us to talk about J’a participation when we’ve already made it clear that if the qualification process is any indication of how the gifted program is run, J’s much better off staying in class with her peers.

Anyway. Phew. I’ve been stewing about this and just writing it down has been very cathartic.

[blizzardsuplex]

“like watching art in motion” (an essay on ZSJ and wrestling)

CW: discussions of gatekeeping

I didn’t have internet for over three days, and so in my total boredom I opened up my Microsoft Word and began tinkering with a “casual essay�� on my favorite wrestler, Zack Sabre Jr. But I can’t talk about Zack without talking about how I feel about and my experiences with pro wrestling as a whole, so over 3.2k words later, here we are.

(I didn’t mean it to get so long...nor, in truth, get so personal. I’ve been carrying this with me for a long time, though, so I guess it had to come out eventually. Things like that always do.)

Title from a comment I saw on Reddit about Zack in 2016. Content under the cut. Special thanks to @heartsinablender/Izzy, who encouraged me to write and eventually post this in semi-public. :)

~~~~

My absolute earliest memories of professional wrestling are of reading next to my favorite uncle while he watched early to mid-2000s era Smackdown on one of those old, boxy TVs, but my first formative memory related to it is talking to one of my classmates, an enthusiastic prowres fan in the way children can be, on the stands by the soccer field during P.E. I don’t remember how the conversation started, but eventually (as it usually did) it landed on the object of his interest.

“I watch wrestling, sometimes,” I threw out, having at that point probably paid attention to a grand total of less than an hour of WWE. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed.

“Yeah?” he said. “Name ten wrestlers.”

He’d said it in a way that felt final, like he was sure that I wouldn’t be able to answer his challenge. It lit a fire under me, and I said “The Undertaker” as quick as a slap. He was unfazed, however, and all too soon I faltered: “The Great Khali, John Cena, Triple H, Booker T…uh. The Great Khali—“

“You said him twice,” my classmate said smugly. He turned away from me, back to the soccer game.

I don’t remember what I replied to the side of his face or what I did immediately after; it didn’t matter. I’d already failed the test, and no matter how biased its giver was, the fact I’d proven him right sucked.

~~~~

This is an essay about how I feel about the professional wrestler Zack Sabre Jr. This is also, if the above hasn’t clued you in, an essay about my personal history and relationship with professional wrestling. These ideas are not only closely related but intertwined, two vines. As with anything alive, both have their periods of growth and withering, fecundity and barrenness, somewhat independent of each other but in the end—as with any ecosystem—affecting the very same, sometimes in dramatic ways.

But even the strongest vines need something to wrap around if they ever hope to reach the sun. Where did these find their base?—my very body, frail as it is compared to the kinds of people who take up the path of the wrestler. That’s the funny thing about entertainment, I’ve found: the people you watch, whether on stage or in ring or on a screen, seem like invincible titans…as long as you’re watching them. The minute you turn your eyes away, they start to wilt; when you turn your back, they wither. With enough lack of care (in every sense), anyone could tear off the leaves and stems and just leave.

I could leave. I’ve almost left. Certainly I’ve drifted away from it on occasion. But so far I’ve always come back, or maybe more precisely I’ve let those vines wind and wind and wind ‘round me again, and more often than not ZSJ—what he represents to my conception of wrestling—is to blame.

~~~~

After I had tried and failed at the task of naming ten wrestlers, I remember feeling embarrassed. Now—though for a completely different reason—I feel outright ashamed. Now, I know too intimately what eight-year-old me could only barely comprehend: why he had issued that challenge in the first place. I was a girl, and I was an unathletic twig, and I was the most bookish of nerds, and while one or even two of those traits might have been acceptable in a “real fan”…all three of those things? Never. A classic example of gatekeeping—and for a while mentally that one interaction was successful at keeping me out.

But at the time it was “just” embarrassment, and as much as I hate to admit it that feeling followed me even after I began actually watching WWE with my uncle and cousin. Dipping your toes into any new activity or hobby, especially one with the amount of layers pro wrestling does, is daunting enough without the constant fear of somehow being discovered and kicked out of that space before my time, though of course my family wouldn’t do that—or, worse, laughed at, which they might’ve. The fact that my cousin was a year younger than me but, at least at first, knew more than I did didn’t really help: she never gatekept, but how she took every chair shot and dick kick we watched in stride (it was during Christian’s feud with Randy Orton) while I was left scratching my head a bit made me feel, as with my classmate, like a poser.

Well, I didn’t want to be a poser anymore, so I went to that great well of information: the internet. Specifically, I went on TV Tropes (yeah, I know) and read the pages on professional wrestling and WWE; while I was aware that there were other promotions, especially after reading the former—I remember the promotion name Ring of Honor getting a cool! from me—I wasn’t interested in anything but the “basics” at that point. What was a heel, a face, a tweener? What did it mean when someone did a shoot on another? What even was the Attitude Era, and why did people like it so much (a question that to this day I’m not sure I can answer)?

I got those down in a reasonable amount of time. Then, something interesting began to happen: I felt compelled to keep reading more about it. I honestly don’t remember the specifics—which names, memes, and tragedies (always in a WWF/WWE context) my brain absorbed like a sponge. All I know is that, after a couple of months, I ended up quite a bit like a smark. So I did get what I wanted: no longer did I feel like a fake fan, even if it came at the cost of somewhat alienating my cousin (who was beginning to lose interest in wrestling) and my uncle.

That wasn’t the most interesting thing I got out of my wiki walking days, though. Because of my (in truth middling-depth) dive into (a very narrow slice of) the prowres ocean, 12 to 13-year-old me thought I had figured this whole professional wrestling thing out: it was bright, it was flashy, it was written like a soap opera. It was entertaining, sometimes off of sheer cringe-inducing antics and sometimes out of sheer spectacle. What counted as spectacle, meanwhile?—the flippiest of flips, dramatic kickouts, muscled people billed at two whole feet taller than me hollering at each other in the ring. It was violent (but not too much, for the sponsors’ sake) and it was slickly produced and it had the best kind of nonsensical internal logic.

Of course, that is what wrestling is…sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that, or anything wrong with watching wrestling like that, either. My mistake as a child was putting it in a box, thinking that everything I just said was everything it could and can be. I was lukewarm on the idea of prowres presented more sport-like, didn’t know how it could be entertaining without a writer’s room’s worth of storylines. As for pro wrestling being art, or even just beautiful—those two concepts seemed so far apart that to use the word never even crossed my mind.

~~~~

So stayed my thoughts on it until, when I was maybe 13 or 14, I fell head-first into hipsterdom (in the “wanting to like things before they were cool” sense). It happened with music, it happened with video games, and it happened with wrestling. Though I still watched WWE, I began to look beyond its borders—which is to say I began paying attention to trope examples by wrestlers I wasn’t familiar with. Those entries, along with a few well-placed links to 240p YouTube videos, were how I found my first favorite wrestler…who was, of all people, Chuck Taylor (who I still love, don’t get me wrong).

But wrestling news moves fast—even faster than the editors at early 2010s TV Tropes, and especially those editors who cared about keeping an independent wrestler’s page up to date. I knew that, if I wanted to know more about Chuckie T and his Gentleman’s Club, I would have to look elsewhere.

I found two places: a wrestling forum literally just called Wrestling Forum, and a newish subreddit called /r/squaredcircle. I proceeded to lurk on both, but it was on Reddit a year or so later that I found the post that ended up being the catalyst for my wrestling fandom from that point forward—a mention that Chuck Taylor wrestled at this supposedly really cool promotion called Pro Wrestling Guerrilla during their yearly Battle of Los Angeles, and that the footage of that show was finally out.

I don’t know when I found the time to look for it. When I think back to that Saturday afternoon, navigating with no adblock to a sketchy wrestling stream archive on a desktop already considered ancient, all I remember is how curious I was when—after giving it a couple of minutes to buffer—I finally pressed play.

~~~~

The match, if you want to find it yourself, is the Friends of Low Moral Fiber (Kenny Omega, Chuck Taylor, and Zack Sabre Jr.) versus the Young Bucks and Adam Cole from BOLA 2014 Night 1. Back then, every single one of those names were established or rising players in the independent scene; now, of course, they’ve all been in multiple top-level promotions around the world. For this and several other reasons, I haven’t been able to watch that contest back before, just last year, I found it in its entirety on YouTube. The channel quickly got taken down, but not before I snagged a copy for myself; in fact, I made the effort to get it as soon as I saw it was the real deal. As someone once told me, pro wrestling is one of the most ephemeral of entertainment forms—and also I don’t have the money for both a DVD player and to ship from the US to watch it legitimately.

But I wasn’t thinking about that when I was 14 or 15 years old. At the time, the only person I really knew or cared about in that match was Chuck, and so as the introductions happened I eagerly awaited his time in the ring (even back then, I held the opinion that he was an underrated worker). Instead, his team first fielded the skinny man with the Union Jack jacket, the one who’d gotten right into the other side’s faces. Zack Sabre Jr., I recalled as everyone got into their corners. A cool name, if a little overwrought.

The bell rang. Twenty-four minutes later, I paused the video and spent hours searching that “overwrought” name everywhere, looking for more clips of him, more discussion on him—more of his wrestling.

~~~~

What can I say about Zack Sabre Jr. in the context of wrestling that probably hasn’t already been said a million times? He has an atypical build for a wrestler, especially before his recent bulk up: tall but very lean—or outright skinny if you’re feeling uncharitable. His promo style is one I have seen called “extremely British” and “hilariously unhinged” (which, considering everything happening in the UK, maybe mean the same thing). He has some pretty sick taste in indie entrance themes. And, of course, he is considered one of the best technical wrestlers in the world—maybe of all time, and certainly in this generation.

To me, though, he is (simply, encompassingly) my favorite wrestler, and upon watching that BOLA match back it isn’t necessarily because I was wowed by the smoothness of his technique (though I was) or impressed by his underrated speed (though I was) or even in awe of his flexibility (though I definitely was—and here I shout out Adam Cole for helping make Zack’s first in-ring impression such a memorable one). No; it was because, for the very first time, I realized professional wrestling wasn’t cut and dry, contained within the box I had tried to place it in.

Read what I described my younger self’s conception of prowres to be…or, if you prefer, think back to the height of PG era WWE. To my mind, wrestling was supposed to almost overwhelm, saturate the senses. Wrestling was bright, flashy, melodramatic, violent—loud.

The footage I watched that day was loud, too; even through the shitty speakers and video quality, it was clear that the Reseda faithful knew how to have a good fucking time. But whenever Zack was in the ring, it was quiet—sometimes literally, but I more mean in movement, in intent. He convinced me from the first lock up that he was absolutely focused on how he could twist his body and how he could turn his opponent’s, that he aware of and could manipulate every single joint and muscle and ligament offered to him. He convinced me that it was, at that moment, all he cared about. It was still violence, of course; all his graceful movements were in service of hurting another. But it was an elegant violence, a quiet violence.

Pro wrestling, the profession of machismo and posturing, could be quiet. Who knew? Before I saw Zack wrestle, I didn’t, and nor did I ever consider the logical question to ask after: if it could be quiet—the complete opposite of what I thought it was—what else was it? What else might it become?

Beautiful, maybe?

I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. Whether wrestling is art is a discussion I leave to people with far more time and far more knowledge of aesthetics than I do. What I do know is this: I not only put it in the wrong box, I was wrong to put it in a box. Professional wrestling is no dead thing, no solved problem—it was, and is, alive, and at its best exists as a creative medium with so many possibilities. Sure, we all have our preferences, and prowres has space for loudness, almost deafening; but it has space for the quiet as well.

~~~~

It would be one thing if ZSJ was a flash in the pan, someone who rose in the business just far enough to get a handful of PWG bookings before fizzling out. If that were the case, I suppose I could expound on the point about prowres being ephemeral, say something that would amount to “the world may have moved on from him, but I’ll never forget how he opened my eyes all those years ago”. But that would be both extremely disingenuous and, to be honest, make a worse narrative. That one match made me understand wrestling more; following Zack’s career afterwards made me love it.

A not insignificant part to this is the fact I hitched my cart to a damn good horse—if Zack was good in 2014, he got even better as the years went by. While he was always a joy to see work, once he improved at selling in particular (which I never thought he was horrible at, mind, but watching early tapes back you can tell the difference), his matches went from baseline good to great; who doesn’t enjoy watching ZSJ crumple and ragdoll around the ring these days? Yet another big reason I am genuinely grateful for his wrestling is far beyond him: ZSJ was my passport to the rest of the wrestling world. Through him, I discovered so many promotions, so many other amazing wrestlers. There was PWG, of course—tying Mike Bailey into knots in the finals of a BOLA, making Chris Hero’s finger bleed, going to war with Roderick Strong over the belt. There was him countering Will Ospreay’s top rope move into a triangle choke that one Wrestlemania weekend. It was him who put me on to European wrestling, with WxW and RevPro and everyone else. His fight with Negro Casas was the first time I’d seen a mat-based lucha match. And, of course, without him I wouldn’t have started watching New Japan, and without New Japan I would’ve never seen any of the amazing people that make up the puro and/or joshi scene.

I always, always come back to Zack himself, though, it’s true. And maybe, some might suggest, it’s at least partly out of a mix of nostalgia and novelty—he was the first wrestler I paid attention to that looked different and wrestled different from what I considered the norm. When I’m put in a hyperfocused trance by the quiet of his matches, past and present, perhaps it’s just my subconscious, somehow, paying respect to how he made that young teen feel.

My answer to that is…well, maybe a little. But ZSJ doesn’t coast by on that alone—he is continually improving, continually striving to improve, and I couldn’t be happier that he’s getting his due. And, like with professional wrestling itself, I find happiness in that match from 2014 (almost a decade ago, now!) not only out of a sense of nostalgia, or even its own sake, but because it’s proof of what Zack Sabre Jr. was and has now become.

~~~~

A trio of ZSJ-related anecdotes to round things off:

1.) When I was in late high school, I did a school project on professional wrestling. The local guy I interviewed was honestly pretty gracious, but something he said nagged at me. “Pro wrestling,” he tried to explain to me, even before I said anything about what I watched, “isn’t just like WWE.” I know, I wanted to reply. My favorite wrestler is Zack Sabre Jr. I watch mostly American indies. Why are you assuming that I don’t know that?—but it would have come across indignant, and so I held my tongue.

2.) A few months later, I wrote a post on Facebook on why I liked pro wrestling, inspired by my discovery of Barthes’ essay on it in his Mythologies. My old classmate, the one who gatekept me when we were both eight, saw it—and he not only liked it, not only commented positively on it, but even DMed me. “Who’s your favorite wrestler?” he asked me. “Zack Sabre Jr.,” I said. He then proceeded to approve, saying that he was great in the Cruiserweight Classic; he was then surprised when I said I’d been following his career for a while even before that.

3.) When my older sister and I were in the women’s section of the Tokyo Dome during Wrestle Kingdom 14 Night 1, we ended up sitting next to and chatting with an Australian lady who got into NJPW because of her boyfriend (they both really liked Ospreay). When ZSJ came down to the ring, I heard her say encouragingly to me “that’s your Zack”. I’m not sure if I’d ever say he’s mine, but that was the night, maybe even the moment, that the very beginnings of this essay were born: when I realized how much he’d influenced at least this part of my life. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to jump down fifteen rows of seats and shake his hand, tell him even a little what his performances meant to me.

But that was not the time for that; three years later I still haven’t found the time for it, living where I do. Instead, I ended up, and end up, just sitting in my chair, screaming wordlessly at the top of my lungs, and watching him wrestle.

[riddle-me-ri]

Here is the excuse for you to write something self-indulgent! Whicever rogue (s) of your choice comforting a reader who is very stressed over college/work!

Take care and remember to drink water, everything will look up for you eventually! ♥️

- Timid Anon 🐁

A/N: aahhh thank you sweet timid anon I’ve been saving this prompt for whenever I really, really needed it. And yeah it’s been one of those weeks at work so I’m gonna use this to unwind. Since this is a wee comfort thing, I’m basing it on my rl job of working in a pet store, but I bet just about anyone can relate to this if you’ve ever been in retail/customer service. I honestly couldn’t choose just one rogue so I decided to do btas versions of the Dork Squad comfort headcanons, because I just adore these three so much

BTAS Dork Squad Comforting Reader From Work Stress

The Riddler: 

When you didn’t even look up at him or reply back when he acknowledged you were home

He knew something was wrong. 

You can try and shake it off, but your exasperation speaks volumes to Ed. 

His first instinct is to ask what’s wrong. 

It takes everything in you not to just burst in tears. 

It was all just so much; everyone was rude, inconsiderate, quite literally saw you lesser than because you had a name tag

Ed can relate to that, in his own way, how people take advantage of your position to treat you terribly, like how Mockridge took advantage of him and his hard work for profit. 

Ed will ask you what he can do to try and turn the day around. 

Do you wanna test one of his new puzzles/games? 

He thinks he saw on the TV Guide your favorite show was doing reruns?

Oh, you just want cuddles? Ed can most certainly do that. 

The Scarecrow: 

It’s very, very tempting to just send Jon on his way mask and some tangible property to bring forth your tormentors worse fears.

Yet, the idea provides only some relief. 

Even though he specializes in fear, Jon understands that sometimes the best things for stress on the mind is just a safe space. 

A safe space to vent and not be judged by anyone. 

Jon is happy when he sees you softly smile in contentment. 

The fog is slowly being lifted. 

Hesitantly, he leans in and kisses your cheek to try and waft away the rest of your negative thoughts. 

He knows it works cause you smile wider and even let out a cute giggle. 

You bring your arms around the lanky man and hug him in gratitude. 

For all the fear and chaos he’s attempted to bring to the city; there’s nothing more fulfilling than being your source of comfort and bliss. 

The Mad Hatter: 

Jervis’ heart almost breaks as all you can do is cry, occasionally making a comment about people being mean, lashing out at you, etc. 

Jervis wraps his arms around you in an instant, rubbing your back and softly rocking you. 

He offers some words of comfort and reassurance, but mostly lets you let it all out. 

Jervis slowly navigates the two of you to the couch, he’s quick to replace his warmth with your favorite blanket. 

He promises to be right back, but he knows just how much his tea makes you feel better no matter the ailment. 

He’ll tell you about something he saw that reminded him of you. 

This leads to him talking about all the reasons he loves you and how much he appreciates you for existing. 

Anyone that doesn’t see the light you bring are fools. 

Slowly but surely the heavy weight of the day slowly lifts. 

Jervis offers if there’s anything else he can do for you, to make the day better. 

You smile warmly as you take your cup, assuring him that he’s made the day better just by being himself.

[writingrosesonneptune]

Rain Summoner Act II Excerpt

Here's something about those machines.

Series Introduction | Chapter One (AO3)

From Chapter Two of Act II - Yanna finds the source of an annoying noise. Approx. 800 words.

Content Warning for: Illness-related prolonged loss of appetite

Yanna followed the ticking noise as it pinged off corners. It had been loudest near the curtain. She tiptoed to the doorway to the front room, listening through the drone of voices. She almost supposed there was a timepiece in the other room when she looked up and saw it.

A heavy silver pendant hung on a chain over the door, marking each second as it passed with a tiny click.

The pendant had the shape of a pansy shell. It would have been an ordinary piece of jewelry were it not for the constant, mechanical ticks emanating from its center. And there was the fact it had been hung on the wall instead of lain safely in a dresser drawer.

She knew then that there was no way to stop the noise. She would simply have to get accustomed to it. Still, the mechanism held new interest for her. She stretched higher to get a closer look at its tarnished silver shell.

In her pursuits, Yanna forgot to pay attention to the conversation in the other room. She listened again.

Polite farewells were said, and a chair scraped across the floor as it slid away from the desk. Yanna hopped away from the curtain and waited with her hands folded in front of her.

The front door closed as the errand girl left, and Esolie wandered through the curtain, untying a bandanna from around her mouth and nose. She startled when she almost ran into Yanna.

“You're awake,” she said. She squinted around the room as if trying to spot something. “I thought it was Jon making all that noise.”

“Your lemur?” Yanna stammered and stepped out of the way, grateful to have a scapegoat. “Should I have stopped him?”

Not that she would have relished making that attempt; the lemur she had once tried to keep as a pet took poorly to reprimand, and she feared drawing the ire of another animal capable of putting up so strong a fight.

“That’s thoughtful,” Esolie said, waving an errant hand, “but don’t trouble yourself. He’s always bringing in salvage and reorganizing. That used to be his job, but he’s getting confused in his old age, and he moves things he shouldn’t.”

“He was that well-trained?”

“He’s a bit special. Before the damage to my eyes, I had a knack for persuading others, and he developed a loyalty to me after I saved him from getting resold at a market. It still hasn’t stopped him from getting into mischief with the jam jars now and then.” She cast a concerned gaze to Yanna. “You’ve barely had anything to eat since you arrived. You must be starving.”

Yanna shook her head. She was faint, but her dull hunger pangs drowned in an overlying malaise that kept her stomach on edge. Perhaps that, too, was hunger, but she didn’t know; rarely had she ever been so ill, and never had she subsisted on portions so few for so long.

“No?” Esolie asked, sounding as if it were the silence that tipped her off rather than the headshake. “It would still do you well to eat. Your recovery will stagnate if you don’t.”

Yanna stifled her annoyance that she didn’t know the word ‘stagnate’ until just then. She folded her hands in her lap uncertainly and cast another glance to the pendant swinging over the door. “I don’t wish to impose,” she said quietly.

Esolie huffed. “Impose? My fool landlord brings me so many apples that I don’t know what to do with them all. You’d be doing me a service by getting rid of some.”

Yanna didn’t know how much of that was true, but there certainly was an odd collection of cider and jam jars lining the walls. “Pardon me,” she started, her interest outweighing a sense of intrusion. She wrung her hands and looked again to the pendant hanging in the doorway. “Is that not a relic from the Southern Continent?”

Esolie paused before she continued on her way to a shelf of food over the hearth. “Don’t worry; so long as you don’t wear it, it won’t bring you any harm.”

Yanna had read plenty about the cryptic machines from the lost Southern Continent and their infamous curses. In spite of their reputation, some people still sought after the devices. Many were said to house unique power. Merchants sometimes claimed to have one for sale, but Akeem said he had never come across anything greater than a music box in person.

Yanna had long found them fascinating. “What does it do?”

“What it always does,” Esolie said, not bothering to give the machine a backwards glance. She felt along the shelf until she found a loaf of bread. “It threatens to drive me to madness whenever I think about it.”

Read more on AO3

[alertarchitect]

Full disclosure, this is a long one. It's also a vent post. I'm mainly writing this out to help get the thoughts and feelings regarding this kind of organized and out of my head, makes dealing with them just a little easier. Maybe it'll help you put to words your own thoughts & feelings on this kinda shit, too, and if it does, I'm glad my screaming into the void at least helped out someone other than myself! After all, if anything I say, write, or do ends up helping at least one other person, then maybe I'm doing something right :]

Sometimes having long-time special interests in an ongoing franchise FUCKING SUCKS. Perfect example - I am both a big Halo nerd, and really enjoy the overaching lore of Bungie's connected worlds (with how Marathon, Pathways into Darkness, Myth, Destiny, and even the ways Halo originally connected before it had to become its own thing thanks to Microsoft). Here are the ways that currently sucks:

The state of Halo Infinite, the most recent Halo game, both currently and at launch. At launch, you had a buggy mess, with multiplayer that barely functioned, lacking feature parity (even just on the multiplayer side of things, not counting the campaign) with Halo Reach, a game from 2010. Currently, 343i has admittedly fixed a lot of the launch issues - there's more customization than the game has ever had before (still not as good as Reach's customization imo, but at this point I've given up hope on any multiplayer AAA game having that level of customization for free ever again), the desync issues (in my experience) are no longer happening, and it has the most powerful Forge mode in any Halo game to date. The flip side of that, though? Egregiously horrendous monetization, an armor core and coating system that both hurt the customization more than help, and a drip-feed of content with little to no communication from 343 on anything past the most recent update. Not to mention the issues that come from a focus on "Live Service" bullshit.

The issues at 343 Industries itself, which come part and parcel with the massive issues related to Microsoft as a company. Massive megacorporation, horrible management, staff getting screwed over, crunch culture, and more - it just goes on and on.

Halo 5, despite its generally negative reception, is horrendously inaccessible to those of us that want to experience it as a piece of history and/or try out the multiplayer. A perfect example of how little companies care about game preservation, despite the decent track record 343i has had in that respect thanks to the Master Chief Collection, its PC release and addition of Halo Reach, and the efforts to find, occasionally recreate from almost nothing, and implement lost & cut content in the MCC titles.

Being a fan of Bungie's overarching stuff... really bad when you are at PEAK investment into their stuff, namely my Destiny 2 hyperfixation, and they not only announce that their new Marathon game is going to be a fucking EXTRACTION SHOOTER, and thus unlikely to have one of the most interesting things about Marathon in it (that being its lore) while also being very hard to get into thanks to people treating that kind of game as a massive sweat-fest, but also suddenly lay off a bunch of employees (when previously they had a good track record of treating employees decently...) due to Square Enix levels of profit overestimations of Lightfall, the BEST SELLING DESTINY EXPANSION EVER only getting 45% of the expected sales. Because why be realistic, right? Just fuck over employees, that certainly won't hurt us in the end!

The fact that, despite ALL OF THIS and my moral convictions against the shitty nature of this stuff, my dumbass brain still wants me to just spend spend spend on it anyway because of how much of a special interest Halo & the Bungie lore are to me - it almost hurts. I generally prefer fantasy stuff, but I can't stop myself from loving the lore and stories associated with this stuff. I have to fight myself every goddamn time I have money to not fall into the traps. It's easier with Destiny - I uninstalled it, replaced my PvE needs with Warframe and Risk of Rain 2, replaced my PvP needs with Halo Infinite, and just keep up with the story from a distance. But now that Halo Infinite is back in my life? I love the gameplay, hell I'd go as far as to say it has some of the strongest gameplay in the series (though some modes could use a bit more work, for example the Infection mode just isn't as fun as the Infection from Halo Reach), but the monetization just... AAAARGH it hurts me that I want to spend on it, both for customization and to have little goals to work towards in the (thankfully well-implemented due to them being available eternally) battle passes.

I just want to be able to love something that's been so central to me for so long - I played a cracked version of the CE PC demo for countless hours growing up, to the point that to this day I know the mission Silent Cartographer back to front from memory & could do it in my sleep, and associate Blood Gulch with countless memories of Halo's multiplayer from how often I'd play it with my sister, and to add onto all of that Halo Reach is one of my favorite games ever made, period - without caveats and moral hangups. I just want to love something without justifying it every time I think of it, both to myself and others.

I know this is a massively first-world issue, having the luxury to whine about my Favorite Things going through years and years of getting fucked by their own successes driving them into corporatism, but it still sucks. Obviously not as much as other issues both myself and others deal with, and DEFINITELY not as much as the horrible shit people are enduring in several parts of the world, but just enough for me to want/need to vent about how much corporations like to shit on the little rays of sunshine that we use to feel better about life.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

A Slip Through Worlds (Part 15)

Amy ( @idiotwithanipad 's oc) and the Silvers are faced with a new challenge.

-

Her clothes aren't right.

Or rather, she knows they're hers, they fit perfectly, but they don't make sense with what's around her. She runs her finger along the purple denim of her knee high dress. Bare knees, stripey monochrome jumper, Monster High socks tucked into second hand Mary Jane shoes, one of the buckles hanging on by a couple of threads.

All well and good until she looked at her companions. The twins. Two young girls, around her age, both wearing medieval style dresses that match the cosy but simple home around them. Not costumes, not that cheap crushed velvet tat, actually hand stitched dresses of pink and ebony, both with pink flowers in their matching short, dark hair. Except the girl on the left also had leaves in hers, like she'd been rolling in the forest outside.

"You okay, Ames?" The twin on the right asked her. "You look a bit dizzy."

She blinked. Dizzy was certainly one word to describe it.

The three of them sat on their knees around a low table, close to a roaring fireplace. Other candles and soft lamps lit the room, filling it with a warm and comfy glow, every light blurring a little against her weary vision.

"I...I don't remember where I am..." she confessed, "Or who you are..."

The twins were more familiar than the room, which she's almost certain she's never been in before.

"Hehehe, maybe your brain is bleeding!" The girl with leaves in her hair giggled.

"Sis! Shh." The other girl scalded, gently.

Amy rubbed at her head. It didn't feel sore...Just muzzy. There was something soft beside her and she looked down to see something that instantly brought her comfort. A dear old friend. She picked up the tiger teddy and hugged it close.

That was a bit better. Not much.

"I'm sure you're just tired. We've been playing for so long. I'm Silver, remember? And that's my sister...Silver."

"Hello! Hehehe."

They were the same age. Nearly identical, except for a few small differences. The one on the right seemed 'older', more down to Earth and serious, compared to her grinning sister.

Amy frowned; "You're both called Silver?"

"I'm happy to be Silvy, if it helps, hehe." Said the one on the left.

Silver smiled at her sister; "We were about to play with our dragons, weren't we, sis?"

"Uh huh. Mummy got them for us."

"Dragons?!" Amy's eyes widened. She loved dragons. Other girls her age were usually scared of the concept of them.

Silver winked and picked up a small wooden box. She tipped the contents onto the table and a collection of beautiful, variously designed and colored dragon figurines tumbled out onto the surface.

As Amy went to pick up the nearest one to her, a little electric blue beast with open wings cradling a crystal in its claws, she couldn't help but feel a tad bit...disappointed.

They were gorgeous. Probably nicer than the sort of toys you would let kids play with. But hadn't she been expecting something a little more impressive? She couldn't work out why.

"Hehehe, I'm gonna pick this one, coz she's asleep on a book." Silvy gushed as she picked up her dragon; "What color is she, sis?"

"Green and black." Silver told her while stroking the head of her own bronze wyvern.

It was then that Amy noticed Silvy's grey eyes that didn't quite focus on what she held. Blind. Not that it seemed to affect her all that much.

"M'gonna take her flying! Hehehe." Silvy stood up and began to spin around the room, holding the dragon up over her head.

"Sis, be careful. We mustn't break these, they're very special." Silver was soft in trying to guide her twin to avoid tripping over one of the toys left on the floor.

She threw Amy a look like most exasperated older siblings, not that Amy could relate. But she smiled back, feeling a stronger connection to 'Silver' than to 'Silvy'.

"Are you girls playing nice?" A sweet voice entered the room.

"Yes, Mummy." Chorused the twins.

Amy looked around to the woman who entered, a kindly round face, black hair and strong arms formed from years of farm work but now meant for wrangling children.

Something about the woman, as pretty and kind as she seemed, made Amy shudder and hug her tiger even tighter.

"Oooh, playing with the dragons are we? You are brave little wenches! Why, you'll be going off to become sheildmaidens on the 'morrow." The woman teased, making Silver chuckle.

Silvy ran up to her mother and presented her green one.

"Mine is called Annie, Mummy!" She chimed.

A blush appeared on the woman's cheeks; "T'is a lovely name, darling girl." She kissed Silvy's forehead and then fussed at some of the leaves; "Why do I bother groomin' ye, hmm. Amy, sweetheart, are you having a fun time? Are my girls treating you nice?"

She gulped. Why was she suddenly so shy? When was she ever shy?

Was it because the woman was so...Big? She seemed to tower over Amy and the twins. But then again, all the furniture in the cottage seemed too big. Glancing at the sofa, covered with blankets and pillows, she could imagine all three of them and the girl's mother curled up together and room for their doubles.

Doubles...Silly idea. She tried looking at the underside of her shoe to check the size.

"Oh, they look like they've had it, little'en. How's about you take them off and leave 'em to me to fix? Or I can make you some new ones." The woman sweetly offered, not waiting for Amy's consent before removing them; "You girls will be needing your afternoon nap soon, can't be getting all snuggly with ya shoesies on."

Silver frowned; "Mummy, we're too big for naps." She then playfully swatted her sister who was letting out a big yawn.

"Hmm, you never gets too old for naps, my love. Take it from your old mum. Besides, little Amy here looks ever so sleepy. Aren't you, Poppet?"

Poppet. Amy blinked and rubbed at her eyes, which made the glow in the room even more smudged.

"You girls can all have lovely little sleeps and when you wake up, it'll be time for dinner. I do hopes you'll join us, young Amy. We is havin' lasagna."

She grinned; "My favorite!"

"Ugh, not mine." Silvy cringed and her sister nudged her again, furrowing her brow.

"Amy is our guest, little'en, you can survive trying pasta for one night." Their mum said. "And how is your tiger there? I let him have a ride in the tumble dryer so he be all warm and cuddly for ya."

Amy nodded, hugging her plushie close again. Her first reaction to the woman seemed silly now. She was...lovely. A real mum. Not like...

There was a rumble of wheels against gravel outside.

A black car pulled up to the window.

"Who's that, Mummy?" Asked Silvy.

But Amy knew before any of them. Before even tottering over to peek out the window, she heared the slurred mumbles, the uneven footsteps exiting the car.

No. Not here. Not when she's so...small, again. Weak. Hasn't yet honed the power of the voice.

A hand slipped its way into hers.

"Is that your mummy, Ames?" Asked Silver, cautiously.

Embarrassment flooded her, especially as various swear words were uttered by the woman outside. She held her tiger tight in one arm and squeezed Silver's hand in the other.

The twins' Mum clicked her tongue.

"Daft women. We agreed you woulds stay the night." She softened her eyes as she knelt before Amy; "Want me to make her go away, Poppet? You can stay here with my girls as long as you want."

Was...was that possible? Could she? That was her mum. Loud and drunk and angry, yes, but...she had no one else. Did she? No better option except dumped into a care home.

But this? Warm cosy living room, two friends, an adult who seemed happy to take care of her...

"I...I want to stay a bit longer. Please." She told the woman.

"Thought so. You carry on playing, little'en. I'll take care of your poor excuse for a mother." She smiled and patted Amy's hair. "You girls keep playin' nice, Mummy will be back soon to tucks you in for your nap."

The woman in the blue dress turned back into the foyer of the little cottage and trudged outside. Amy was tempted to climb up to the window ledge and watch the girl's mother send her own away.

Barely, she could make out their conversation. Ruth demanding "her own fuckin' brat" and the other woman giving her a verbal lashing for not being the mum "a sweet little'en like that" deserves, before ordering her to disappear and clean herself up.

Silver tugged on her hand; "It's okay. Mummy's handling it. You're safe with us."

"Mummy always keeps us safe, hehe." Chirped Silvy, sat beside the fireplace with two dragons in her hands.

"Let's put these toys back, Silvy, and we can get all comfy under the blanket for our nap. I bet Mummy will tell us a story. Maybe one about the witch and the caveman again."

Witch and the caveman...Why did that sound familiar?

Something was wrong. Not just with her clothes but with her head. There was knowledge there that shouldn't be, stuff she shouldn't have access to. Lots of things that didn't make sense.

A crash of thunder made her jump and hug her tiger tight. Rain began to pelt the window. The storm seemed to come out of nowhere.

Their mum quickly bustled back into the house, retrieving three glasses from the sideboard and bringing them over to the little table they were playing at.

"Little'ens, Mummy just needs to do a little more work out here. You girls drink your milk to get you all nice and sleepy." She placed two glasses of white liquid before her own daughters and a yellow one before Amy; "Mango juice for you, sweetheart. None of that caffeine energy stuff while you're still little, hmm." She teased, poking her nose.

Her throat felt parched. When she took a sip, it tasted as close as she could hope to her favorite drink...without the adrenaline boost. Instead the stillness of it added to her sleepiness, as the milk also seemed to do to the other girls.

"Fresh from the cow, Mummy?" Silvy giggled.

"Always, precious." Mary wiped her blind child's mouth and winked at Silver knowingly; "Now Mummy will be back in a jiff. Be good."

She then exited back out the cottage, as another chap of thunder rang above.

"What work does your mum have to do in a storm?" Asked Amy.

Silvy shrugged, collecting the dragons off the table; "Dunno. Grown up stuff. She has to work really hard. Sometimes I wish she spent more time with us."

"Mummy works hard to keep us safe, sis." Silver reminded her, leading her twin to where the box was for the dragons. "It's dangerous outside. 'Specially now."

Amy wanted to ask what she meant. What was so dangerous? True, she can't remember ever seeing a storm in England as bad as this one. The cottage seemed secure, however. Not the slightest draught of air or drop of rainwater entered through the wooden walls.

Everything was so warm...So sleepy...Would they even need to bother with the blankets, soft as they looked? Amy rubbed at her eyes again.

Silver was back at her side, leading her to climb up on the sofa with her.

"I'm really happy you're staying with us, Ames. I missed you so much."

Did she? Amy thinks she missed this girl too, despite nothing about her making sense right now.

"Is Amy gonna be our new sister?" Asked Silvy, also scrambling up onto the cushions. Silver reached to help pull her up.

"Maybe for a little while. But she's probably gonna want to stay with her own sister and daddy, won't you Ames?"

Sister? She doesn't have a sister.

And she especially doesn't have a...Wait.

Amy's chest tightened for a moment. The tiger slipped from her hand and fell down to the floor, from what seemed like a monumental height given her current size.

Poppet. Dad.

Humphrey...

She turned to look at the two Silvers. The blind one was already tugging her blanket close to get comfy. The other was still looking at her for her answer.

Silver. Her Silver. Her best friend.

"It's the witch." She said, aloud.

Both girls blinked; "What? What witch?"

"The witch, she....Fuck!" She slapped her own forehead so hard that her hairband was knocked to the side.

Silvy gasped and giggled at the 'rude word'.

"She's in our heads. Silver...Silvers." She clarified, suddenly hating the childish pitch of her voice; "This isn't real. She's trying to trap us...Weaken us. We mustn't fall asleep."

"What are you talking about? Who's trapped us?" Silver frowned.

"Your fucking 'Mummy'! She's the witch, remember? C'mon, please try to remember!" She gripped Silver's hand in her own, both of them much smaller than they should be; "Your name is Silver Guppy and you're nineteen years old, you're not a little girl, you're a badass Wiccan who died in 2004, now snap out of it!"

"Right....Because that doesn't sound silly." She said with more sarcasm than a six year old should know how to weild.

"I know, it's nuts, but you have to believe me!" Amy stressed; "That woman is not your mum. And that's not your sister, not really."

Silvy looked up in doe-like shock.

"You come from the same universe as me but you stumbled into another one and that Silver's mum wants to keep you as her own. But you have a mum already, remember? Mary. Your Mary." Said Amy, persistent; "She's not some psycho fire poltergeist, she's just your mum. And I told her that I would do whatever it took to bring you home to her."

Bewilderment flickered in every muscle of the child beside her. And perhaps a touch of...recognition?

"I...Why would you do that?"

"Because you called for me, bitch. I wasn't gonna leave you here to rot, was I?" She laughed.

Tears sprung to her friend's eyes and she looked down at their hands clasped together.

"...Ames...Is this even real? Sh-she messed with my head so much...I can't even tell anymore..."

"No, it ain't fucking real, that's what I'm saying. I mean, the cottage isn't and we're not six, but..." She pinched the underside of Silver's wrist a little; "Feel that? That's real. I'm real! And so is Robin."

"Robin? He...He's here too." She glanced about the room. Where was he?

"Don't think boys were invited to the slumber party. That other wannabe Tarzan is probably still bothering him."

Silver's lip wobbled; "Ames...I didn't think I'd see you again."

Just this once, Amy indulged her friend in a super tight hug. Her younger body seemed to have less of an aversion to physical affection, weirdly enough.

Or maybe she was just as happy to see her mate.

A giggle behind Silver reminded them that they weren't alone.

"This is so silly! Why would Mummy trap Amy in a dream with us?" Silvy asked, having made something of a pillow fort around herself; "Why not- Bonk! - knock her out and just take both Silvers home with her?"

That...was a good point.

"Yeah....Why did she want me to come too?" Amy suddenly asked.

Memories of the moments before her blackout began to flood back. The witch, in her proper wraith form of fire and rage, had looked at Amy with pure hatred for coming between her and her daughter.

Silver slid off the sofa at the sound of the thunder increasing outside. Lightning flashing much more frequent. Rain near torrential.

And the clouds. The clouds looked more like tears in the fabric of the sky.

"She can't control it..." the small Pagan said; "The universes are crumbling. We just ripped a massive hole in them and the longer we've stayed has made it bigger. It can't repair itself like last time..."

"And Mummy's trying to fix it on her own?" Silvy gasped, as if afraid for the witch.

Amy gulped. A true mad cow.

She was prepared to risk destroying two worlds for the sake of keeping a girl who wasn't her daughter?

"How do we get to her if she's trapped us in our own heads?" Asked Amy.

Silver looked back at the door which seemed gigantic compared to her now.

"We gotta go outside." Could it be that easy?

"But it's dangerous out there! Mummy said so!" Silvy cried; "And what if Amy's mummy is still there? And Mummy took her shoes!"

That's right, she did. But that was easier to get past than the mother thing.

Amy shuddered, suddenly terrified at the thought of a half-cut Ruth Richards staggering towards her and grabbing her twig of an arm, dragging her back to their filthy, beer stinking flat.

"Did you see your mum, Ames?" Asked Silver.

Amy looked up. No...No she hadn't. She'd been too little to look through the window.

"I heard her...." Hadn't she?

Silver pursed her lips; "I think that was another trick. Something to scare us off from leaving. Same as the storm. It's partly real but...why include it in our dreams like this?"

Fucking sneaky bitch. Amy gritted her teeth and jumped off the sofa.

"Silvy. We're going outside. You don't have to come-." Silver said to her 'twin'.

The other Silver jumped off and ran to grab her fake sister's hand.

"Don't leave me out, hehehe."

Silver smiled and then turned, having to push herself up onto her tip toes to reach the handle. She grabbed it and then turned to Amy.

"Dunno about you...but I'm ready to grow the fuck up." She smirked, despite the fear glinting in her eyes about what awaited them beyond that door.

Amy gave her friend a smile.

"Let's get you home, Silv."

[captain-astors]

C, E, J and Z for the ask game? :>

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will: Good question, I'm usually pretty flexible and I can't think of anything that isn't sort of a given from Tokyo Ghoul, but when it comes to JJK I just don't really like Nobara and Itadori. As friends? Absolutely. As a QPR? I could be convinced with a short explanation. Explicitly dating in an allo way? Eh. Given, I haven't caught up with the manga so there's always a chance!

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?: I don't know about hilarious, but certainly cracky. This Post which resulted in Shuu does top surgery which is even less plausible than the initially proposed Kanou, but wildly amusing. Then there's the old men chronicles which I would've had more fun with at the time if I wasn't fully aware that I'd lose a mutual over it. In retrospect it's nice though! Also, I think almost everything I've shipped here is very cracky.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over: Tumblr has recently become very convinced I need to see everything related to Moomin Valley so, that I suppose.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.) Sometimes I get really scared to talk about all the reasons I like characters because I don't want to unintentionally reduce their personality to stereotypes. Thus, counterproductively I end up describing everyone with short, vague sentences out of fear of overusing reductive phrases. So today I rant free!

Hairu is absolutely fascinating to me as a character, I feel like she's a wonderful example of Ishida's special tactic of writing a character with a couple vague core ideals and points of history that hint to something far more complex in such a way that leaves you wondering if he's actually a brilliant writer or if he just left you so much space that you can fill it in with headcanons to your heart's content. Anyways, I just love how she's consumed by an unobtainable goal, (being recognized by Arima again) and her method of slaughtering as many ghouls as she can to achieve it just takes her further and further away, while also distancing her from the actual achievable reality of a closeness with Koori. It's so sad and I ADORE HER SUBTLE COMPLEXITY, it always disappoints me a little to see people to describe her as nothing but a dreamy airhead or just another murderous cog in the machine of the CCG. I do actually really like her and Koori as a pairing because they'll take so terribly long to communicate, I just also really like making Koori suffer hell. Anyways, nearly 80% of what swayed me was a fic where Koori and Hairu swapped uniforms on the first day of being partners because Hairu hated the new female one, and Koori discovered the skirt was actually very comfy. It was sweet, kind of a crackfic, and very enjoyable to read.

[animehouse-moe]

Fate/Strange Fake: Whispers of Dawn - The Abridged Rundown

I'll be real, it's an hour long special, there's a lot to get through in regards to it. I'm going to keep things short, and try and condense my thoughts as much as possible which means I'll be skimming over character (and story) related stuff quite a bit. So here's the gist of it: the US is making a fake Holy Grail War without the Mage Association in hopes of it becoming a real one, and we're thrown into the chaos that is fake and real servants colliding in a story that began as a joke on a website in 2009. Yeah, it was originally a joke, turned light novel, turned manga, and now turned anime, so I really recommend reading up on Strange Fake a little bit and as much tertiary Fate information as you can if you want to grasp it, because that's not the goal of this post.

What is the goal though is explaining my thoughts on this hour long special episode, and what it spells for the series going forward (and maybe just a little story and character stuff, who knows).

I'll get it out of the way right off the bat. The production quality? All over the place. In quite a few moments I was left wondering if characters like Faldeus were off model or if it was a creative decision, and there's plenty of examples of downright questionable animation and decisions. I'm rather disappointed in A-1's output considering the addition of a delay. Was the delay to accommodate a single episode special turning into a full series? Or was it just trying to buy time for the more rough pieces displayed in this episode? It's hard to say, but my prior statements still stand. With the help of a few examples, that is.

Anyways, how about some cool stuff? If there's one thing that Strange Fake has going for it, it's style. Weird, right? Production isn't quite there, but the style really is. One of the more bold and interesting examples of Strange Fake's style is through its camera rotations. Sometimes it leads to super odd and rough cuts like the above, other times it creates really striking and inventive scenes like the following. It adds a very nice feel to the content that it appears in, and draws out that sense of drama and suspense quite well. Also, I love that since it's in America they just couldn't help but feature guns and military.

Of course, rotation isn't the only thing that comprises the visual style of Strange Fake. If you were to draft the number 2 spot for most used approach, it would certainly have to be the aggressive camera angles. Not as flashy as the camera rotation or movement itself, but it still plays into that almost melodramatic feel that this story displays for viewers, steeping itself in grandeur and showmanship.

Now, I will say that it misses the beat on its showmanship nearly as much as it nails it, as layouts aren't the only important thing in selling viewers a story. Right alongside it is character acting, and quite often it's relegated to just sort of vibrating pngs on screen that will interact with one another. For comedic effect I think it has a time and place, but I don't think it needs to be used as much as it is early on in this episode. Thankfully though, the good pieces of character acting are really good. Just take a look at Fake Caster here (even though it's just a hand). It captures their personality, their feel, the emotions of their voice (which you can't hear) incredibly well. Though I'll also say that the camera work adds a large amount of feel as well. Just an all around impressively well

Hmm, so where to next? I think, a fun thing to chat about would be the nature of servants, which ironically, plays a really big role in the pairings and purposes of characters throughout this story. I won't go on spoiling things (though I really don't have any information that is spoilers, unless this is your first fate series). Anyways, lets get it started with the coolest and newest servant: Enkidu.

Enkidu is Gilgamesh's counterpart, and the anime makes sure you understand that. Gil is summoned in the middle of a desert, into the hand of a young girl who completely surrenders herself to Gil. Enkidu on the other hand appears in a forest, summoned by a wolf Chimera. The symbolism of the tree of life that appears as lightning is no joke in poor taste, no sir. Enkidu is the blood-brother of Gilgamesh, a warrior who fought side-by-side the king of legend. The parallels are endless between this infamous pair. The disparity between control and freedom, ruling and harmonizing, so on and so forth ad infinitum. This pair was made for one another, and the anime does a great job of conveying that.

Next on the list of incredibly curious has to be our new Berserker and their master, Flat Escardos. I love this idea so, so much. Two peas in a pod these characters are. Unrestricted, unforgiving, and unlimited. The pair are two sides of the same coin with Jack The Ripper comprising the dark of the pair, while Flat the light. It's a really great dynamic, and the character play off each other incredibly well for comic relief and surprisingly dark comments. It's also with Berserker that we get treated to the first of our trio of title cards (though neither of the other two give names). That is, image stills that represent who our servants are, what their story is. Really, really great stuff.

Next up we've got our Assassin, who tells a very simple story alongside the poorly done slam poetry provided by their master. Not a lot to comment on, but I enjoy how not-so-subtle they are with Assassin's background as a religious woman before her fall from grace. Very befitting story, for sure.

Now, the last and certainly not least is our 'wild card' servant and master combination. This one's really something else (I'll share more afterward), but their concept is 'Pestilence'. You might call them a horseman of the apocalypse, the Pale Rider, the Black Plague, whatever name you might fancy. But what they are remains fact: disease. It's really interesting when paired alongside the youthful and innocent Tsubaki, especially as her father takes on the rot/curse of Pale Rider rather than his daughter. Neither like Berserker nor Assassin, Pale Rider is more symbiotic with Tsubaki. A curse, certainly, but one that also cares for and understands Tsubaki, contradicting their very existence as Pale Rider. It's a really curious character that puts even Enkidu and Gilgamesh on alert, so I'm incredibly interested to see what they get up to in this story.

And that's where our information in regards to servants and masters ends. Of course, I've still got a bit more to go so bear with me for just this little bit more.

Strange Fake's style really is something else, as I've said before, but I think one of the more important pieces to it is how fluid it remains. There's all sorts of crazy interesting ideas, from the title cards I've just shown, to the insane impact frames, the dazzling approach to lighting, or even the art style itself. Hell, they use CGI with Pale Rider and it works perfectly to convey that disturbing feel they exude.

Now, this one's separate just because I wanted to chat about it a little. Francesca here's a little drama queen. You already know from her appearance and disposition that she likes to show off, but it extends far past that. Much further past into truly commendable territory all for the sake of showing off. She knows of her short stature, but wishes to impose upon Reeve in this scene, so what does she do? Make a show of trouncing all over his desk. Kicking his lamp over only after performing a perfectly executed stunt to show that she didn't need to kick the lamp over, positioning herself above him so that the shadow she casts is far greater than that of Reeve's, and (effectively) stomping on his police hat to squash his sense of justice underfoot. It's an incredible setup all for Francesca to toy with Reeve in this scene, and I absolutely love it.

Okay okay, last piece. The super cool Gil and Enkidu impact frames. Love that their color schemes are opposite as well. Very very well done, though I wish their fight itself had a bit more impact to it.

And there it is, the end of this Strange Fake special episode. Would I say I'm completely satisfied? Not really, no. There's a lot of production weirdness and concern that I have with a large amount of material through the episode. The story itself is outstanding though, and is presented impressively well. It's just that the animation and some of the creative decisions in regards to that animation is subpar and in poor taste. Strange Fake: Whispers of Dawn is held back from greatness by a single chain, strained at each link, almost begging to be let loose. We didn't get the perfect beginning that A-1 might have hoped for, but I think it's one that plenty of viewers will be enthralled by nonetheless.

[dylanndr]

TL;DR:

Trans Izzy headcanon is not universally accepted by all trans men and can be traumatizing to some of us (even us Izzy stans!), so don't assume that any given trans man is into it. Figure out where someone is before tagging them in to Trans Izzy stuff.

The long version:

[CN for frank discussion of gender dysphoria]

I understand that Trans Izzy is a popular headcanon, and I understand that a lot of trans guys feel affirmed and validated by that headcanon. This post is not about bursting that bubble. If it's working for you, fine. Do your thing.

I want to make clear, though, that it is NOT a universal headcanon that all trans guys are on board with. I keep getting tagged into Trans Izzy stuff by well-meaning people who assume I must be all about it, when what it actually does is trigger a massive dysphoria spiral that can flatten me for hours or days after.

I was sincerely hoping I could desensitize myself, but it turns out "have you simply tried not having dysphoria" isn't working any better this time than it did when that first therapist I ever went to offered that as a solution when I told him I thought I was trans.

So: Trans Izzy headcanon stuff is a SEVERE dysphoria trigger for me and I can't engage with it at all. I can't look at the art, I can't read the fics or meta. I don't click on Izzy tags or join Izzy groups because of it.

If you've read this blog at all, you know I love Izzy and I have spent a lot of time thinking about him. I have never encountered one single thing about him that gives me trans validation feels (no, not even his height relative to the other characters). I have encountered several things about him that are the polar opposite of my experience as a trans person. Obviously a lot of other trans guys are having a very different experience of the character, but for me, for my own experience there is N O T H I N G relatable about him from a trans perspective, and a number of things that feel actively wrong to me when put into a trans frame. It's like having my gender experience anti-validated.

In addition to the dysphoria, I'm just generally grossed out by the idea of a cis* actor playing a trans character. There's no excuse for that in our current era. [*AFAIK Con is cis, given that he self-labels as an ally when posting pro-trans content. He's clearly pretty chill about the HC. But either way he is not a trans man and should not be playing one on TV.]

So: I am asking people please do not tag me in any Trans Izzy stuff, and please don't make a blanket assumption that all trans guys are into Trans Izzy HC.

Final word: from the stuff I have seen, not a single one of you has the faintest clue how trans men on HRT experience menopause. That's not really your fault, since our culture barely acknowledges menopause in cis women as it is. Finding accurate info on trans man menopause is nigh impossible. So here are some basics:

If you've had a hysto before you would have hit menopause, you will not go through menopause. There's nothing to wind down.

If you haven't had a hysto but are on masculinizing levels of T, you are unlikely to experience any menopause symptoms at all. The T suppresses them. If you've been on HRT for a long time, your body will stop absorbing it as well as you get older, and you could experience some lessened symptoms if your levels drop low enough. But all you have to do is increase your dose and you're back to T overriding menopause symptoms. My doctor specializes in trans medicine, has been in practice for over 30 years, and has had almost none of her trans man patients complain of menopause symptoms in all that time.

As far as sex-in-the-front goes, T dries you out to some extent, menopause dries you out even more. You're almost certainly not going to be making puddles, and you're going to be running through a lot of lube. Get a few barrels of it and use them as ballast if you're going to be at sea for awhile.

[rabbit-eclipsed]

Ta-da! This is one of the cursed things I teased last month. Welcome to Hell Once-Ler month! On special dank midnights, I'll be dropping (almost certainly awful) content related to 2012 Tumblr's favorite capitalist twink.