#opinions and suchlike

[rubberbandgirlme]

i feel like this meme (honestly can't shut up about this man), so here's part 2 of this post.

on the screens mc touches leander's hand for the second time (not having an option of touching his face or deliberately not choosing it). why is his laughter nervous though? shuddering is a very strong emotional response too, why does he react like this? "that tickles", leander says to clarify, which is outright lies (i'll explain why under the cut). my first thought was that it had something to do with mc's curse — maybe it was difficult to handle and suchlike, but then i realized that he's just uncomfortable.

i think leander laughs nervously just because he doesn't really know how to react properly. suddenly he became a hand-holding man for hire on demand (he brought it on himself lbr — that's what you get for manipulating people into divulging their secrets), and while he understands how important it is for mc, and can't deny them this little indulgence (because he genuinely cares about people as a whole, he wants to make them feel good, make them happy), he doesn't truly care about this particular one (as i pointed it out here). and!! that's!! what!! makes!! leander!! such!! a!! captivating!! character!! sorry he's just so complex and has so many layers (like an onion 👹) i can ramble about him for days

alright my fit of rabies is over back to the point: if you play out the whole hand-touching scene, you'll see that leander is just politely allowing mc to touch him, but that's it. "nice, isn't it", he says with a curt smile, not even blushing anymore. what a reaction.

and now look at him showing genuine emotions when you ask (!!) to touch his face: his excitement, soft laughter, little add-ons — complete opposite of the first one (even shuddering!)

also look at his blushing happy sprite... im so normal about him

so what do we get from this tiny red choice? leander seems to like it when mc doesn't play it safe (getting bold), and (i believe) when you ask for permission to touch him (and potentially his opinion too). also his scar is sensitive to touch. you probably need to check up on me because i'm not okay .

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Wise Men Build Their Houses on Rocks While the Rest of Us Settle for Skeletons

EVERYONE is doing their DBDA prompt challenges in October, so I doubt I'm gonna do any one of them completely. I'm gonna have to pick and choose fave days/prompts and mix and match it. I really didn't think I was gonna get anything done for Catween, but I glanced at the prompt list last night, had an idea, and bashed this out. I probably would have gone into the ideas/questions it raises more if I'd had more time lmao So, Catwin enjoyers, I hope you like this weird little thing! 2.2k, rated M, also available on Ao3 (registered users only!)

“Are you quite sure that it’s in here?” Edwin called, a note of impatience slipping into his voice unbidden. He had no desire to waste several more hours searching for something not knowing if he was even in the correct room.

“Well, I didn’t throw it out,” came the dry response of Thomas from the next room, his voice muffled. As if it were buried in pillows which, given the time of day, it probably was. Thomas was and remained, despite his bipedal stints, a feline; and he rather had the sleep schedule to prove it. “Keep digging, Sherlock — you’ll smoke it out.”

Edwin rolled his eyes, and kept searching. He mustn’t lose his temper. He knew there was trust being placed in him, in being allowed to plum the depths of the Cat King’s hoard unsupervised. Especially for such frivolous purposes. Thomas didn’t even particularly care for Charles (allegedly), and certainly would not have thought to gift him a magical heirloom on what would have been his fifty-fifth birthday. But as soon as he’d let slip about a particular item he had in his collection, Edwin knew he had to have it for Charles; and he had ways of making Thomas see his side of things.

Unfortunately, the item in question was very small indeed — and Thomas’ organisational system was about what one might expect from the four-century hoard of an alley cat. Which was to say there was no clear system in place at all, everything thrown into the magically distended grotto with no rhyme or reason. That, or it was all organised in some manner which made sense only to the strange and animalistic whims of Thomas’ own mind. Perhaps he’d ordered everything by scent, in which case Edwin was truly lost at sea.

Edwin set his jaw, and carried on. A compact mirror, that’s what he was looking for. According to Thomas, it had an enchanted silver backing that reflected even ghosts. And Charles had mentioned several times recently that he sometimes wished he could ‘mess around’ a bit more with his eye make-up. Saw a bloke with gold eyeshadow in town today. How mint is that? and suchlike. Of course, as ghosts they had no need of cosmetics and could alter their appearances at will with a little practice, but it was damnably hard to judge the effects for oneself. One generally had to rely on second opinions. A small mirror would do just the trick. According to Thomas, it was a little flat disc, pink plastic with ‘hearts or some shit, like you’d find at Claire’s, y’know?’. Edwin was not sure who Claire was or why he was expected to know her taste, but a lurid pink plastic disc seemed enough information to go off.

The first such disc he found, however, was neither plastic nor pink. It was clearly old, Edwin would put it back as far as the seventeenth century. French. He inspected it with curiosity, running his fingers along the gold surface, so worn and weathered it was hard to tell what the original design had been. He’d be interested to get a look with the lexicographical lenses on the task. The disc hung on the ends of a short gold chain, and the two halves closed with a simple kiss-lock clasp like a traditional coin purse. Edwin had sifted through a number of more interesting objects in his search, but for some reason the little thing held his attention. It possessed a certain magnetism, a certain draw of the eye.

He glanced, furtively, back towards the door, the bedroom, the presence of a sleeping Cat King. He’d given his word that he wouldn’t fool about with anything, given there were any number of powerful magical objects in residence.

And yet, the kiss-lock clasp parted under a flick of his thumb before he could think to question the wisdom of it.

It opened to reveal what one would expect in a compact of its time. A small mirror in the lid, slightly age-spotted but otherwise intact, and clearly not the enchanted one, for there was no sign of Edwin’s reflection. There was also a small, soft pad in the lower half for the application of powder. Although in other examples Edwin had seen, the pad tended to be off-white or blush pink. This one was neither. It was orange. The material was odd, too. He would’ve expected a fibrous wool or similar, but it wasn’t that. He cautiously brushed a finger across it, using the modicum of touch sensation lent to him by the magic of the Cat King’s realm to confirm his hunch. Yes, no mistaking it. Fur. Very fine, very soft fur. He lifted the edge of it, cautiously, and found another scrap of fur underneath — this one of a shorter pile, and a smoky grey colouring. And beneath that, one more; this one varying shades of brown, arranged in stripe-like formations.

Cat fur.

Tap. Taptaptap.

Edwin startled. That sound. Hollow and rattling, like hail on a window. He looked up, to the high, slit-like window in the pseudo-warehouse where Thomas had built his hideaway, but the sky was as fine as it ever was here. The Cat King had no use for anything but long summer days and fine, temperate nights in his realm.

Taptaptaptaptaptap!

No louder, but more insistent. And coming from his hands. Edwin looked down, sharply — and his mouth fell open.

There was a little cat behind the looking glass.

Edwin held the mirror aloft, closer to his face, peering intently. It was so small, barely scraping half an inch in height, smaller than even the dandelion sprites. And it was tapping upon the inside of the mirror with a miniscule paw. Edwin recognised the light clacking sound as the clack of claws on glass. It was a tabby cat, light brown with dark striping. In fact, its coat bore a striking resemblance to the swatch tucked into the bottom of the compact. It regarded Edwin with a challenging air, eyes alight and tail swishing.

Edwin blinked, unsure what the etiquette was for this sort of a meeting. “Good afternoon.”

The cat moved its mouth, as if speaking. But whatever was said, Edwin couldn’t hear through the glass — and the shape of a cat’s mouth was rather difficult to lip read.

“I’m afraid I cannot hear you,” he said, apologetic — to which the cat responded with a scraping swipe of its paw against the surface. “Well, it’s hardly my fault!”

And then, something else appeared, behind the cat. Something taller, draped in hues of grey and black. Not something, someone. A rather familiar someone.

Edwin squinted, certain he must be mistaken. “...Is that you, Thomas?”

The tiny man in the mirror visibly flinched, his yellow eyes widening. He looked like Thomas, but not quite. Despite the fact he was clearly much younger, his hair was greyer, flatter. And his manner of dress bore little similarity to Thomas’ modern, extravagant tastes. In fact, this little Thomas lookalike was about as old-fashioned as Edwin, or slightly older; though his style was more in line with the fashions Edwin had seen in the background of films depicting the old American west, rather than at home in his own Edwardian England. It was simple, workaday, trousers tucked into sturdy leather boots and held up by braces. A loose, soft shirt, a wide-brimmed hat. It was so very dull and practical, it scarcely made sense on Thomas’ frame; but that was surely his face, down to the most microscopic impression of a scar upon his lip.

The not-Thomas narrowed his eyes at Edwin, and leaned his elbow on the glass, mouthing something. Edwin thought he said: “Who wants to know?”

Edwin cocked his head. Curiouser and curiouser.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said. “I was looking for something.”

The not-Thomas started mouthing something else, but Edwin was rather distracted by a third figure shouldering up beside him. This one even more familiar than the last.

No mistaking it; this one surely was Thomas. His Thomas — or rather, the Thomas he’d first met when he came to Port Townsend. From the dirty-blond hair to the leather skirt.

And unlike the other two, this one knew who Edwin was. Edwin could see his own name in the shapes formed by his lips, could see recognition glowing in his yellow eyes. He saw the name over and over, in fact, as the little Thomas repeated it while his hands pounded fruitlessly against the glass.

“Thomas,” Edwin breathed, bringing the mirror closer still. “Thomas, what is this? You’re in the next room, how can you be in here?”

Thomas began to mouth something, furiously, but he was so small and talking so fast, it was impossible to make out from sight alone. In squinting to see, though, Edwin noticed something else about his Thomas. He was black-and-blue, vivid bruises and cuts decorating every exposed inch of his skin. Blood trailed from his lip, his nose, even his ear. Come to think of it, the other two didn’t look their best, either. The grey Thomas was sopping wet; it was only now Edwin realised his hair looked so flat because it was damp and plastered to his skull. His skin was deathly pale, his eyes sunken. The cat, the tabby cat which must surely be Thomas as well, also bore a significant scar; a deep, red gash down the centre of his plush belly. What a grim trio they made; gutted, drowned, beaten.

Dead.

Edwin took a steadying breath. “Thomas,” he said. “Remind me, please: how many lives do cats have?”

Thomas grimaced, and held up nine fingers.

“And you have had how many?”

Three fingers — and then, slowly, a fourth.

“You find it, yet?”

Edwin jumped, and snapped the compact shut — though the look on the little Thomas’ face as he did so would haunt him for quite some time. “Ah — not yet,” he called back to the bedroom. “But I must be closing in…”

He heard Thomas chuckle. “Come back to bed. I’ll track it down in the morning.”

Edwin swallowed, tightly, and slipped the little gold compact into his inner pocket. “I’ll be right along.”

~

“Thomas?”

“Hm?”

Edwin fidgeted, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Thomas hadn’t managed to coax him completely out of his clothes, this time, but he’d certainly made decent innings. “I wondered… when a cat dies, does it… haunt? As a human does?”

Thomas shrugged, not bothering to remove his hands from their languid repose behind his head. “Sure. It’s all souls, right?”

“Right. Yes. And…”

“And…?”

“And does that happen… with every death?”

Thomas cracked open one golden, knowing eye to regard him across the pillows. “Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“On how unlucky you get.” He stretched, his back arching sinuously off the bed. “On how much unfinished business you’re stuck with.”

“I see.” Edwin cleared his throat. “How… interesting.”

“Hmm. You know something, Edwin?”

“What?”

Thomas smirked, lazily, and drew his hand from behind his head. He raised it up high, then opened it — and the little golden compact tumbled to the end of its chain with a dainty rattle.

“You’re almost as bad a liar as you are a thief.”

Edwin blanched. “Ah. I can explain —”

“No no no. No explanation needed. I’m proud of you, y’know? Nice to see you coming out of your shell. Be gay, do crime, that’s what the kids are saying these days, right?”

Edwin’s brow furrowed. “Is it?”

“Ah, something like that, anyway.” With a flick of the chain, Thomas whipped the little disc into his hand, inspecting it thoughtfully.

Edwin, feeling at least relatively safe in his assumption that he was not about to face serious repercussions for his thievery, crossed his arms in annoyance. “You pickpocketed me,” he accused.

“Eh, does it really count if I’m stealing back something you stole from me?” Thomas threw him a fond, sharp-toothed grin. “I’m not sure you can even call it pickpocketing when it’s that easy. Kiss you just right and I could steal the shirt off your back.”

Rather than bicker further, Edwin huffed, and curled into Thomas’ side. A warm, strong arm wrapped around Edwin’s shoulders with no further prompting. “Will you tell me?” he said softly, tapping his fingers upon Thomas’ chest. His eyes never left the little mirror.

For a few long moments, it seemed Thomas wouldn’t answer.

“Did what I had to do,” he eventually admitted. “To get ‘em off my back.”

“Off your back?”

Thomas scowled, giving the compact a little shake. “Pushy little bitches.”

“I don’t understand. You mean they stay with you?”

“Cats don’t have houses to haunt, sweetheart.” Thomas sighed, putting the mirror down on his chest and letting his hand close over it. “In the end, all we’ve ever got is ourselves.”

Edwin nestled in closer. His hand landed atop Thomas’, atop the little metal disc where his restless old lives rattled like matches in a box. “That’s not strictly speaking true anymore, is it?” he said, propping his head upon Thomas’ shoulder. “You’ve got me, now.” He hummed. “And Charles, in a sense — I’m afraid we don’t come separately.”

Thomas gave a soft snort of laughter, and looked at him; a very old and aching sadness in his eyes. His smile, blunted, barely gleamed in the soft neon light. “Even ghosts move on eventually.”

Thanks for reading! I'd really, really love to know what you thought of it 💛💛💛 I imagine a lot of the prompts I fill this month on my main will be Payneland. That being said there will defo be some configurations of ships involving the Cat King, and MANY of them will need to be posted on my semi-secret-ish side smut account, so. DM me if you want that I guess xD Thank you all so much for your support of my fics, for your patience with Lonely Bones, and just generally for being the most delightful fandom I've been part of for absolute donkey's years 💛 be seeing you soon!!!

[powermove102]

Dark Schmerz-o-meter analysis

AKA the comprehensive tier list of pain and suffering (fun!)

Characters are all ranked on a scale of S-E and are all relative to one another (yes, you can be sad and still go in E tier). To reiterate, they are NOT ranked based on how much I like them, how good their character is written, or suchlike (although there may be some correlation), this list ONLY takes into account how hard their life was, how much suffering they have had to endure, etc. Points are indeed taken away if you are the one actively causing the sadness (how much depends on e.g. whose idea it was/ how much enthusiasm you did it with).

(also I'm only referring to Adam's-World versions of the characters, unless otherwise specified, because we just have way more information about them)

Feel free to disagree/ counter-argue, this is just my list and my analysis (all for fun).

(OK I'll stop stalling) So why don't we get started with the best of the worst:

E Tier - You don't know what pain is

Hannah Kahnwald

She starts having the affair whilst she is STILL MARRIED (she was unawares that Michael was literally penning his suicide note whilst she was having a smooch with Ulrich) - she also has the inability to love imo, she just has the ability to love attention

She’s not even that good a mother either, she kinda leaves Jonas alone and is only really sad because she no longer has a mans to give her all that attention (PLUS her fling left her too, and then she has the AUDACITY to ask (not ask - FORCE) Alexander to DESTROY HIM for choosing to focus on his MISSING SON instead of HER!!!!!!

And then when Jonas leaves she’s just more attention-deprived so she thought about offing herself but then thought well if I’m dead no-one can pay attention to meeeeeee so decided against it 

Then Jonas returns (33 years older but it is still her SON who displays AFFECTION towards her) and as soon as she finds out about time travel she’s like you know what this means? An opportunity to find more MEN, and she commits THEFT even though Jonas reeeeally needed that machine (she only cares about herself), and proceeds to go to Ulrich ONLY TO TELL HIM SHE HATES HIM BECAUSE HE TRIED TO SAVE HIS SON I MEAN WHO DOES THAT

yes I am well aware that he was unable to say he loves her when she did but I will get more in depth with that later and I mean, come on, man has other priorities, could you really not get him out of prison???? so he can save his son???????

And then obviously she promptly moves on to the first man she sees (married, but she doesn’t care of course) (it’s the guy she reported Ulrich to way back when in the future/past, but she doesn’t care of course) AND HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY SHE LOST EVERYTHING like MADAM you did not care about your husband, your boyfriend only mattered because he gave you attention, and your SON has RETURNED with all the LOVE he has LEFT from this CAR CRASH of a reality and you RUN AWAY FROM HIM WHILST HE IS ASLEEP AND YOU SAY YOU LOST EVERYTHING MA’AM YOU ARE TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING I ACTUALLY CAN’T WITH THIS WOMAN-

I’m convinced she has a soft spot for kids because i can’t imagine what other reason she really has for having Silja (she obviously never loved Egon) so she has her and then she gets taken to Jonas and PRETENDS like NOTHING ever happened, like she didn't abandon him when he returned to her to go have a kid with someone else and she didn't steal his most important possession

And then YES she is tragically killed by her own son (which is usually a trait of someone very high up on the list (RIP in pepperonis Bartosz you are loved) but I don't care, she deserved it, otherwise the family tree would be 100 times more kaput if she was allowed to populate it even more, especially if she still has access to the machine) and that’s it, she gets a shut up/die

Ines Kahnwald

So people seem to be opinionated both ways with this one but here we go

I guess she WAS doing everything for Michael’s own good - he rocks up with no family or anything to speak of, he’s real scared and sad and she does in fact take him in when otherwise he would have been homeless jobless lifeless so yay Ines

And yeah I guess you could say it’s hard on her when he’s distant from her and everything but like? What did you expect? That’s not your real son bro???

And then she has to deal with his suicide (but again, he was kinda distant anyway it seems) and you get alienated by Hannah (honestly a good thing) but all in all it is nothing in comparison so you get a meh/maybe I don't actually care all that much, Hannah has taken all my energy

Doris Tiedemann

You did cheat on your husband. Idc who, why, with who, whatever, if you cheat then you a bitch for that and i have nothing more to say on the matter

Yeah then Agnes goes missing, then they potentially reunite, it’s all tame in comparison let’s be honest, idk/idc

Anyone else who I do not mention in any tier is either not a particularly significant character or they do not compare :) stay tuned for D Tier if you want

[aokozaki]

I really love the Tellius games for being a classic racial allegory fantasy game that, in my opinion, manages to avoid falling into the common trap.

Like, sure, Path of Radiance establishes the raw might of the Laguz, the Goddess' Children of Strength. When transformed, they're stronger than the Beorc, and the game isn't shy about showing you that.

The game's antagonist, though a Beorc himself, is also about the danger of Strength. He's dedicated to power at all costs, and rather than a Wyvern, rides an enslaved and corrupted Dragon Laguz - the strongest of all the Laguz Tribes.

But Path of Radiance is the game of the pair that leans the most into FE stereotypes. And likewise the opressed racial group is the scary beasts with claws and suchlike. This is the common pitfall of fantasy racism allegory.

But Radiant Dawn shows us that that's not the whole story, that the Beorc, what we'd call humans, the Goddess' Children of Intellect, are fucking terrifying.

Sure, the Laguz have raw strength, but the Beorc have Magic, and Weapons. Weapons specifically designed to deal bonus damage to Laguz. Anima Triangle Magic, which in these games, deal bonus damage to various Laguz Tribes.

And the worst part of Intellect is that you can hoard it. The Bengion Theocracy have exclusive access to Warp magic. You can get your hands on it in other games, but not here. They've kept it to themselves.

And that's why the Blood Pacts, which might seem like a stupid plot point to some, is vital for the message the game is going for. Magical Research pushed to such an extreme that Bengion has engineered an "I win" button - a way to flagrantly piss off every other country in Tellius and be safe in doing so by controlling a mere two pieces of paper.

And all the Laguz Strength in the world can't match that.

[karuvapatta]

Apologies for the delay! I had a bad case of writer's block.

Also I need to start putting it on ao3 because tumblr is a nightmare to navigate sometimes, but that would require coming up with a title. So. Here we are!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

***

He tells himself it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, not really. A momentarily lapse of reason. No more than that.

Yet he can’t stop thinking about Elias, all the way through the rest of the weekend, on his way to work on Monday morning, through his lunch break. He supposes it’s better than reliving other people’s nightmares, but not by much.

Sasha knocks on his door around two p.m. She’s carrying a stack of papers – academic records of one of their latest statement givers, he can see as much.

“Do you have a minute?” she asks.

“Sure,” Jon says. “I’m going to assume it isn’t work-related?”

Sasha laughs in response. “What isn’t, these days?” she asks, with a degree of bitterness and resignation Jon knows all too well. “It looks like we’re stuck here for good, aren’t we?”

Jon feels the first tendrils of panic gripping his chest.

“Sasha. I meant what I said, I’ll try to get you out—”

“I don’t want to quit,” Sasha interrupts him. “Do you?”

She’s looking at him with that calm, measured, reasonable expression he’s always admired about her. It’s enough to calm Jon’s racing heart.

“No,” he says.

He waits for the wave of guilt and nausea that should follow the simple confession. It doesn’t come. Sasha won’t judge him for its absence; he can see the familiar sense of relief in her face, followed by fierce determination. And, all around them, he senses the Eye’s presence. It approves of their willing submission; it secures its hold on them both. He wonders if Sasha can feel it too.

“Tim and Martin won’t understand,” Sasha says. “So—perhaps—if we asked Elias…”

“Do you think he might let them go?”

“Do you?” Sasha raises an eyebrow. “You know him better than I do.”

“I don’t—” Jon begins, then stops. His face is flush with embarrassment, he knows as much. But what can he say, at this point, without digging himself in deeper? “I don’t know what he’s planning,” he says. “I doubt he’d ever tell me.”

“Do you trust him?”

“No,” Jon says. “Contrary to popular opinion, I am not that stupid. But I—” he bites his lip.

“You like him,” Sasha says. There’s pity in her voice; he supposes pity’s better than outright disgust.

“I—” Jon pauses. He doesn’t like Elias. He’s not some teenager with a crush; he’s an adult man, capable of recognizing that Elias is dangerous, unpredictable, cruel, selfish, manipulative… that he loves power most of all and that, whatever his agenda is, he’d sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve it.

So, no. Jon doesn’t like Elias. He just finds him endlessly fascinating, he enjoys being in his company, he wants to know everything there is to know about him; he could blame this fascination on the Beholding, but it doesn’t seem entirely fair. It’s most likely a product of Jon’s own deranged mind.

Sasha shakes her head sadly. “Well, I suppose I can’t judge you, since I’m willing to continue working for him.” She’s lost in thought, her gaze unfocused. “That’s just it, isn’t it? You spend so long searching for answers, it’d be a waste to back away the moment you start finding them.”

“I know,” Jon says. “Unfortunately, I think that’s how the Eye gets you.”

“In that case, neither of us ever stood a chance,” Sasha says.

Jon smiles. His mood sours quickly, however.

“This job should have been yours,” he says. “We all know that. I shouldn’t have accepted it.”

“This job isn’t what any of us thought it would be, so it’s pointless to frame it that way,” Sasha says firmly. He recognizes it for the peace offering she possibly meant it as, and breathes a sigh of relief.

“So how do you want to proceed, then?” he asks.

“We know there are several organizations serving the Entities,” Sasha says. “I’d quite like to know who they are, how they operate, and suchlike. We have enough background to begin investigating them.”

“They may not take too kindly to being scrutinized,” Jon says. “Elias may not approve, either. He is allied with a number of them, so if we do anything to jeopardize that alliance…”

“That’s on Elias for not telling us anything,” Sasha says firmly. “I’m sorry, Jon, but I do not know what I’m dealing with, and I hate not knowing. If Elias won’t tell us, we’ll have to find out for ourselves. How’s that sound?”

“Reckless and dangerous,” Jon says. “Where do we begin?”

***

It feels good to talk to Sasha. Partially because her little project takes Jon’s mind off Elias, but mostly because it’s just—nice. Jon never had many friends to begin with, and while he’s aware that he has no one to blame but himself, the solitude was starting to wear him down.

There is still a wall between himself and Tim though. Jon desperately wants to make things right, but Martin warns him to back off for the time being. And Jon complies, because he doesn’t think he could handle it if Martin hated him too.

On Friday, shortly before five, Sasha clears her throat.

“Right,” she says. “It’s been a long week. We’re going to a pub.”

They all pause – Martin, who is scribbling in a notebook, Tim, who seems to be chatting with someone on his phone, and Jon, who is unpacking the new shipment of office supplies. All pretence of doing meaningful work has been unceremoniously dropped after lunch and now they are counting the time until five o’clock.

“What?” Sasha puts her hands on her hips and glares at them. “You can’t weasel your way out of this one, boys. And don’t pretend you have plans, I know for a fact none of us have a life outside of the Institute.”

“I resent that,” Tim says.

“Need I remind you what happened the last time we went out, Sasha?” Jon asks drily.

“Exactly,” Sasha says. “We need to put it behind us. Right, Martin?”

“Um,” Martin says.

“See? Martin agrees.”

“Sasha,” Jon says. “Be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable,” Sasha says. “We’re supposed to be working together, aren’t we?”

“That’s the whole fucking point,” Tim says. “We already spend way too much time with one another.”

He’s looking at Jon as he says this. Jon stares right back.

“I am inclined to agree with Tim,” he says.

“One round,” Sasha says. “That’s all I ask. Then we can go back to sulking in peace.”

“What are the odds of you dropping this idea?” Tim asks.

“Zero.”

“Okay. Fine. One round.” He glares at Jon. “But if he tries anything—”

“You punched him, Tim,” Martin says. “I really don’t think you have the moral high ground here.”

“I suggest we prepare a list of conversation topics to avoid,” Jon says. “In the interest of keeping things pleasant.”

“All right,” Sasha says brightly. “Come on, then.”

***

Despite Sasha and Martin’s heroic efforts, the first round of drinks passes by in near-silence. Tim ditches them afterwards to flirt with someone at the bar, and Jon tries, unsuccessfully, to conceal his relief.

Wordlessly, Martin fetches them another round. He is toying with his glass, eyes darting between the surface of the table and Tim’s back.

“So, uh,” he asks after a while. “Did you ever hear him talk about his brother?”

Jon feels like he’s going to be sick. “Don’t bring this up, please. Tim clearly doesn’t want to discuss him.”

“I know,” Martin hurries to say. “But—it sounded pretty bad. I’m worried.”

Sasha bites her lip, her expression sombre.

“He told me bits and pieces,” she says. “Nothing substantial. But it’s the reason he first started working at the Institute, I think.”

“So whatever happened was paranormal in nature,” Jon says quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Sasha said. “But it’d explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”

Is there a file, somewhere in the depth of the Archives, that deals with Tim’s past? If not, then there ought to be; Jon should collect it. He can feel the Eye now, its hunger, its searching gaze. It needs to know, and Jon can feed it that knowledge. All he has to do is ask. All he ever had to do was ask—

His mouth is buzzing with static now. He takes a sip of his drink, but it doesn’t taste like anything, washing blandly down his throat. It offers no relief.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says. He longs for the safety of his Archives.

“Why?” Martin asks.

“I—” Jon swallows. “Tim has a statement, doesn’t he? I—I’m going to force it out of him, aren’t I?”

“What are you talking about? Why would you do that?”

They both stare at him, uncomprehending. Do they not understand? Do they not feel the Eye’s presence? It seems almost laughable. It’s everywhere, all around them, the ever-present gaze of the Watcher. And it’s a dreadful thing when it chooses to focus on a specific human. When it uses Jon to acquire what it wants. How weak Jon can be when resisting it.

“Jon?”

“Sorry,” he says. “The stress of the job is getting to me, isn’t it? More than it already has.” He laughs, awkwardly. “Please stop me if I start asking any invasive questions, okay?”

“Okay,” Sasha says carefully. “But you can control it, right? This—compulsion?”

“For the most part,” Jon says. She tenses, and Martin shifts in his seat, uneasy; Jon can almost taste their fear, infinitely more flavourful than the drink in front of him… “Yes,” he adds, more firmly. “I wasn’t aware of it before, until I used it on Tim. But I know how it feels now, and I can stop it from happening.”

He takes another sip, just to give himself something to do. They have more questions, always more questions. But every answer brings them further into the service of the Eye, and Jon refuses to be responsible for that.

“Stop what from happening?” Tim asks.

They all jump. Tim is back from the bar, looking none the worse for wear; smiling, his hair artistically tousled, first few buttons of his shirt undone. More than one person checks him out as he stands there.

His smile fades, however, as they all look away; an obvious admission of guilt.

“Not this again,” Tim snarls. “Jon, I told you—”

“Jon didn’t bring it up,” Martin says quickly. “I did. Sorry.”

“Always so happy to defend him, aren’t you?”

“Tim,” Sasha says. “Sit down? Please?”

Tim sags into the seat beside her and buries his face in his hands.

“You’re not going to drop it, are you,” he groans. “Nosey bastards.”

“We didn’t mean to pry—”

“Yes, you did! It’s what you do!” Tim hesitates. “What we do, that is. I’m not much better.”

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t feel like sharing,” Jon says.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Tim snarls.

“I mean that. I’m trying—”

Jon pauses. There it always is, the persistent feeling of being watched; but now there is a different quality to it, something less encompassing, more human. More familiar.

He looks around for the tell-tale flash of grey in someone’s eyes, but the bar is too dimly-lit for that. He wishes, suddenly, that they had chosen a more secluded booth.

“Jon?”

“You really should sleep more,” Sasha says, disapproving. “You spaced out again.”

“Sorry,” Jon says. “I think Elias is watching us.”

“What?!”

“Where is he?”

Both Tim and Martin rise to their feet, poised to fight. Jon shakes his head.

“He’s not physically here,” Jon says. “…probably.”

“Then how do you know he’s watching?” Sasha cocks her head.

“I don’t know,” Jon answers honestly. “Just a feeling, I suppose. I could be wrong.”

It takes time for Tim and Martin to drop their guard and return to their seats. They are still scanning the room, as if half-expecting Elias to pop out from under a table. The rest of the time, they are staring at Jon. There’s fear and distrust in that stare, but Jon is so used to it he barely even notices anymore. He checks his phone, just in case, and then, finding it blank, texts Elias himself.

Can I help you?

The reply arrives quickly: You never leave work on time. I was concerned you got yourself kidnapped again.

Ah. So they aren’t even pretending that Elias wasn’t spying, that Jon didn’t notice, that Elias didn’t notice Jon noticing. It allows them to skip several steps in the conversation.

And if I have? Jon texts. You told me yourself you wouldn’t have rescued me.

Well, no, but I’d still rather know where you were being kept, Elias writes back. Do give your assistants my regards, Archivist.

“Elias says hi,” Jon says.

“What the fuck is even going on with you two?” Tim asks. “No, you know what? Don’t tell me. I’m probably happier that way.”

Jon says nothing as he pockets his phone. Not like he can offer them an answer they’d accept. Not like he himself knows the answer. Instead he excuses himself, to procure another round of drinks for everybody. That gives his assistants ample time to discuss him, if they so wish.

They barely even look at him once he sets the glasses down on the table. Jon slides into his seat and silently chides himself for ever saying anything.

“Is he still watching?” Sasha asks, sipping on her gin and tonic.

Jon takes a moment to think about it, and then settles on: “If he does, I can’t tell.”

“Lovely,” Sasha says grimly.

“Yeah. Fucking great,” Tim jabs at the clinking ice-cubes in his glass with a soggy paper straw. “Just what I signed up for. One boss is a telepathic murderer, and the other—” he glares at Jon, clearly struggling to verbalise his feelings on the subject.

“What did you sign up for, then?” Jon asks, before he can bite his tongue. Then he amends, hastily: “You don’t have to answer, I only meant—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tim sighs. “Might as well tell you. But I am not giving you a fucking statement, Jon, and if you try to record me—”

“I won’t,” Jon says, icily.

“Fine.” Tim is quiet for several minutes. No one dares to interrupt the silence; not until he steels himself, and starts speaking in a low monotone, “I had a brother, Danny. He was murdered by—by an evil fucking clown, of all things. Right before my eyes…” He takes another moment to compose himself, act like he isn’t on the verge of tears. “It wasn’t a normal clown and a normal circus. It couldn’t have been. So I did some digging around, and eventually joined the Institute to find out more about it. And that’s pretty much it.”

“Tim…” Martin reaches out, hesitantly. He doesn’t touch Tim, but his hand is there, on the table, next to Tim’s; an offer of comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

Jon is once again grateful that Martin is here, because he himself has no idea how to act. A quick glance at Sasha confirms that she feels the same, awkward and out-of-place, aching to help but not knowing how.

“Thanks,” Tim mumbles. He takes Martin’s hand and squeezes it quickly, before withdrawing back into his seat and clearing his throat. “Well. There you have it. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” His tone is biting, the jab obviously aimed at Jon.

“The circus – was it the Other Circus, by any chance? The Circus of the Other?” Jon asks.

“Probably,” Tim says. “I guess. What of it?”

“We could find them,” Sasha says, exchanging a quick glance with Jon. “We have enough data to go by, we know where to ask around…”

Jon nods. He’s already going over the relevant statements, aching to get his hands on the catalogue, and the files deep within the Archives.

“What for?” Martin asks, alarmed.

Jon blinks at him. “I figured Tim might want a sense of closure. Or vengeance, perhaps.”

“Are you—are you actually insane?” Martin asks. “You want to attack them? They’re dangerous!”

“Unlike most people, we wouldn’t be going in blind,” Jon points out.

“And it’s better than Tim doing it by himself,” Sasha adds. “If that’s what he was planning, that is.”

Tim is stunned. He looks between Sasha and Jon, with wide eyes and slack jaw.

“I—I thought about it, but—why do you want to help?”

“We’re your friends, aren’t we?” Sasha asks.

It’s a bit of a stretch – Jon wouldn’t describe himself as Tim’s friend, exactly, but he is his direct supervisor, and would be remiss if he let Tim and Sasha run off into danger unprepared. There has been quite enough of that already.

“So you’re just… just going to help Tim murder someone? Because of friendship?” Martin asks, incredulous.

“It’s way too early to make concrete plans, isn’t it?” Jon asks in lieu of an actual answer. “We have some preliminary research to get through before we can even begin to decide how to proceed.”

“Jesus,” Tim says. And then he starts laughing, a touch hysterically. “Yeah, sure. Yeah. Let’s do that. It’s a great idea. What could possibly go wrong?”

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

for the character ask: kunikida

first impression:

i think i didn't like how loud he was LMFAO

impression now:

I CARE ABOUT HIM SO MUCH. he's one of my favorites !!

favorite moment:

hmm,, he has a lot of good ones but i like his scene with dazai where they give each other that gay little look before perfectly alternating between their opponents. also the scene where he's explaining to that one bomber guy how he knew yosano would be there,, i just really like that whole episode even if i don't remember it too well

idea for a story:

ohh i have so many,, i will list three lol

- one where he has to slowly realize kajii and katai are a thing and he . is not a fan. would probably be part of my spy au

- that one kunichuuzai fic i started where he's the last to realize they're all dating even if the other two fit into his schedule perfectly and they live together and suchlike

- that one other fic i started, trans kuni where he's determined to go thru his day as usual even if his period is really bad. dazai convinces him slowly to take a day off

unpopular opinion:

hmm.. i don't really know what would count as one tbh? i'm not really a fan of transfem kuni (i prefer transmasc lol) for personal reasons

favorite relationship:

kunidazai, kunichuuzai, or also just his friendship with katai :) also his hc one with kajii that lives in my brain

favorite headcanon:

dyspraxia/dysgraphia kunikida is so real to me. he didn't realize he had an ability until he was like 12 bc that was only then that he could read his own handwriting

[gideonthefirst]

💌 :~)

hi ave!! this is very specific but i really respect how despite people occasionally being huge assholes about it i’ve never noticed you to change or mask your natural writing/speaking register; it’s genuinely both comforting and refreshing to follow someone who talks the way you do when expressing opinions and analysis without feeling the need to water it down or suchlike. i think it rules academic-tone-autism forever and ever

[zhalar]

i was trying to reply to the post of yours i just liked and almost blazed it instead why are the buttons so close to each other.............. aNYWAY i only saw it now, and it feels A Bit weird two weeks later to be like Oh Hey. but. i've never been able to shut up in my life so! Oh Hey. i had to move to your ask box bcs the reply thing's word limit was like shut the fuck up!!! but. so. i don't even have anything useful to say except i'm 24 and started studying for my degree when i was like 19 and i still Don't Fucking Have It and in between i've moved like four times and am almost broke and saurrrr unemployed and Local Employers Hate Area Woman-Ish bcs of my very unsexy mental illness and lack of work experience. and i also fucking hate dishes and cleaning and groceries and everything IS stupid! we could all be eating berries and raising chickens and doing weird art in the woods! and maybe we should! all that to say that your vent was Extremely Relatable. modern society is a harsh maze. and shit's scary!! but i see you. and i'm rooting for you, for what it's worth 🐻🌻🍀🍄💕 and i hope the rest of your summer is good and joyful and everything goes smoothly with school and everything!! <3 good vibes and cheers ✨

YOURE SO SWEET TO REACH OUT TO MY SANGSTY (sad/angsty) VENT-POST OOOHHH places a fresh and washed stone fruit or suchlike of your choice onto your palm as a form of thanks....... im sorry to have left you hanging with my answering this btw, it was my last work day for the summer today and i didnt dare to open the message last night in case i got so distracted that the lateness woulda got me lol. love to plan my every move within the bounds of a work-life schedule. btw fully dying-laughing about the possibility of you somehow accidentally blazing that post CAN YOU IMAGINE DSHFKJGH

im real sorry that the general sentiment of that post resonated, sucks how we're ALL constantly in the trenches, here :-( (and also a bit sheepishly sorry if my vent caused any alarm or whatnot... sometimes it alll just gets to be oh so much and one must air their grievances out to the world unprompted like that. grhyeah..) truly would Shrimply Love To Own Chickens and Thatse It. my viiru&pesonen -fantasy lifted its head once again this summer, i meannnn now thaaaaats what i'd call living!! ffs!!!!

i would never ask you to shut up the reply-feature does Not reflect my views and opinions in case you were wondering. for real this msg brightened this day considerably, youre both a complete sweetheart and so fucking funny for the formatting and tone of this ask, good lord. hopefully you'll have some easier times going forward, typically i wouldnt wish a job onto my worst enemy but i also recognize how that is something thats uhhh, quite valuable actually, indeed, so in that sense im beaming some fking sense into your local employers' brains. [HIRE THEM!!!!!!!! for some NICE TASK!!!!!] I HOPE YOUR SUMMER THUSFAR HAS BEEN COOL AND FUN!!! and that the rest of it/the upcoming august treat you well also <3

[ansicred]

Odd Foxes + Modern Music

(This is in reference to what the Foxes think in the years between 2010 and 2023). AS A WHOLE: It'd be an idiotic thing to suggest that given their 44-year-long existence as a band that Odd Foxes wouldn't have at least influenced some modern bands & artists at some point. Tim often argues that he can't hear their influence, but he, like the others, appreciate some of the covers of their songs that have been released over the years. The most popular Odd Foxes song that's been covered is Untoward - which has had everything from a screamo cover to an acoustic 'reimagining' for a John Lewis advert (in universe). They've also been influenced by the modern (alternative) sounds for their own songs in more recent times, because they like evolving their sound in such a way that they, as a band, end up being tagged as 'timeless'. ART: Being quite set in his ways, Art quite likes the punkier sounding bands that are in the scene nowadays. Between the mid-90s and now, he's been very into the pop punk scene with his favourite 'modern' bands being somewhere along the lines of Blink-182, Neck Deep, and The Story So Far. Of course, he's still a bigger fan of the original punk bands from his youth, but you will find pop punk classics from the late 90s, 00s, and even as recently as the 10s in his record collection. He's seen Blink-182 live at least once (in universe) and he's quoted as saying that they're 'loud, fast, and funny as fuck' (his favourite member is Mark). TIM: Tim's always liked literally everything musically -- yes, literally everything, including country music -- so it comes as no surprise that his modern tastes range in vast variety... But that doesn't mean that he doesn't have his favourites. He's particularly fond of modern synthpop artists/bands and electronic-based bands - things like Lights, Lūn, EDDIE, Gunship - but also has a soft spot for indie rock/pop bands like Bastille and The Wombats. FRANK: As established before in a previous lore post, Frank is a big fan of folk music and his favourite modern bands tend to follow that sort of line with exception for his britpop favourites like Blur, Pulp, and suchlike. His favourite modern bands that he'd gotten into at some point in the late 10s include To Kill A King and Childcare - having gotten into them after seeing the former support Bastille when he'd gone to see them (in universe) with Tim and James. JAMES: Of the four, James is the one with the 'hardest' modern tastes, finding himself drawn more to bands like La Dispute, Senses Fail, Pianos Become The Teeth, Funeral For A Friend, and others with that sort of vibe. He does sometimes slipstream into metal/metalcore on the odd occasion as well. In saying that, though, his 'guilty pleasures' in terms of modern bands would be Bastille - of whom he has high opinions, recently citing Bad Blood and Give Me The Future as some of his favourite modern albums. He's even branched out on his social media with a drum cover of Pompeii (in universe), giving it his own James Martin SpinTM in the process.

[citadelofswords]

ay. i should really know better than to reblog food opinion polls and suchlike, because i fucking hate food debates with every fiber of my being

[giratina-plushie]

hi, Penny opinions please?

!!!! the peny

First impression: oh she's just like me fr (i had an identical haircut when i was 13)

Impression now: weeping sobbing crying i love her so much i wept RIVERS at the end of starfall street she's wonderful and deserves the best and i think she should never be persecuted for any of her crimes and i want to give her a HUG!!!!!!

Favorite moment: when team star greeted her as penny for the first time. that's what made me cry so much. i'm weeping just thinking about it. I LOVE PENNY

Idea for a story: something very soft with all of team star at a sleepover together. penny recieves eight thousand hug

Unpopular opinion: [extended dial-up internet noise]

Favorite relationship: teamed star....... all of them. i love them all. ough.

Favorite headcanon: i think she listens to just the most abrasive music. just fucking horrible sounds that make you take damage. breakcore and suchlike. (to be clear "music that makes you take damage" is my preferred kind and i say it affectionately) i also think she can have a little speedcore in her music taste as a treat that she got from nemona

[aspiring-crypt-crawler]

opinion on bugs and suchlike squirming things

They're l¤vely. Especially the large ¤nes. Y¤u might assume that leeches, ¤r s¤me ¤ther bl¤¤d feasters, w¤uld be my fav¤rite, but that title bel¤ngs t¤ ¤rb-web spinners, f¤ll¤wed by centipedes.

[jotun-philosopher]

Random Good Omens scenarios from my brain, part 3!

First part here, second part here

(Possibly) the last one for a while, depending on what my brain does... As ever, if you want to use one or more of these imaginings as fic/art prompt, that's more than ok -- just tag me in the end result, 'cos I'd love to see it!

Aziraphale contacting the pigeons of London to ask their opinion on the Second Coming/Armageddon etc. -- the pigeons' response is to gather in one place and simultaneously void their bowels all over the Metatron and his coterie of fanatics

Crowley discovering the 'baptise me in hot dog water' post and finding it amusing enough to be inspired to plot a gambit leading to the Metatron and co. being liberally doused in the most hellishly rancid hot dog water that he (Crowley) can get his demonic little hands on

Outside the bookshop, early morning: Metatron, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon appear, with a beaten, bloodied Aziraphale on his knees between them, his hands chained behind his back. Metatron grabs Azzy's hair and yanks his head around to the right, contemptuously snarling, "Take a good look -- this is the last time you'll ever see sunlight, or your precious bookshop!" None of the angels particularly bother to notice that an unusual number of Whickber Street Traders seem to be helping Nina clean her front windows with a slightly suspicious number of buckets of *completely innocent* water. A portal to Hell opens in the road, accompanied by the appearance of a horde of demons led by Shax and Furfur, who're openly gleeful at getting to be part of the first Fall since The Big One (especially because it's Aziraphale on the chopping block) but just as openly chafing at being told what to do by the Metatron. Before Aziraphale can be handed over for torture and Falling, the WSTs (at some prearranged signal) throw the holy water in their buckets at the demons and the Hell portal, which proves sufficiently distracting that Crowley [something brave and clever and awesome which I haven't thought of yet], removes Azzy's chains and takes his hand to perform a joint miracle that not only banishes Metatron and co. back to Heaven ('Begone, foul fiends! Avaunt!') but binds them there permanently, so they can never come back to Earth. As an encore, the reunited Ineffable Husbands rework the wards on the shop with joint miracles so powerful that Saraquel sends them a note to the effect of, "Our miracle detector just exploded. Whatever you did, it must've been big. For goodness' sake, GET MARRIED ALREADY!!!"

The Whickber Street Traders taking Muriel under their collective (metaphorical) wing

The Shopkeepers' Association feeling a bit awkward around the bookshop for a little while after the Armageddon 2 gets averted, because of the rather scary way it was confirmed that they'd been entertaining angels unaware, until Mrs Sandwich breaks the silence by bringing the Ineffable Bookshop Crew some home-made tiramisu brownies

Aziraphale needing to use mobility aids after everything's sorted, either because of physical injuries sustained while saving the world or because of PTSD-related tremors and suchlike

Crowley recalling that Aziraphale risked not just discorporation but permanent death trying to rescue people from Sodom and Gomorrah (in the process receiving injuries that left scars on his arms and chest that're visible even in modern times), and was so distraught for weeks afterwards that he (Crowley) took some pretty major risks to stay with and comfort him

Aziraphale, when making the final rejection of Heaven, quoting or referencing things Crowley's said previously -- especially "Great pustulent mangled bollocks to the GREAT BLASTED PLAN!!!" Bonus points if he directly states he's quoting Crowley, and extra double bonus if our wily ol' snek gets to overhear the whole thing :D (I really want this to happen in S3!!!!! There're so many awesome bits of parallel-ing already, this'd fit right in!)

Aziraphale repeatedly scaring the crap out of Michael and Uriel with simple sleight-of-hand tricks, because they're so unimaginative that they cannot work out how to do that sort of thing without using miracles

Muriel reading Carpe Jugulum, seeing the bit where Granny Weatherwax talks about sin always fundamentally involving treating people as things, and becoming almost incoherent with terror upon realising how well that describes the Heavenly higher-ups

INEFFABLE HAND-KISSING

Aziraphale having a raging praise kink

[mahfuzaakter]

Robotics disquisition is geared toward contriving robots with a degree of tone- acceptability that will permit mobility and decision- making in an unstructured terrain. moment’s artificial robots do not act as mortal beings; a robot in mortal form is called android.A  mastermind designs is the crossroad of wisdom, engineering and technology that produces machines, called robots, that replicate or cover for mortal conduct. Pop culture has always been fascinated with robots — exemplifications include R2- D2, the Terminator and WALL- E. These Over-exaggerated, creatural generalities of robots generally feel like a mock of the real thing. But are they more forward thinking than we realize? Robots are gaining intellectual and mechanical capabilities that do n’t put the possibility of a R2- D2- suchlike machine out of reach in the future.

Theoretically, robotics is considered the branch of engineering that's related to the generality, design, construction, operation, operation and operation of robots. But what system do you consider a robot? For your understanding, a robot is an automatically operated machine, that completes the work or task assigned by humans, thereby carrying out a series of conditioning, as per the human's demand.Robots exclude dangerous jobs for humans because they're able to work in dangerous surroundings. They can handle lifting heavy loads, poisonous substances and repetitive tasks.

Robots can be in mortal form, for the reason that humans feel foursquare and comfortable with them, similar robots that are manufactured in the form of mortal body structure are pertained to as ‘ androids ’. But not every time, the structure of robots should act humans, they can be a simple set of machines that would be suitable to fluently handle the task that humans find delicate todo.Robots moment are used in numerous sectors, including, healthcare, home life, manufacturing, logistics, space disquisition, service, entertainment, and trip assiduity.

The field of robotics has greatly advanced with several new general technological achievements. One is the rise of big data, which offers further opportunities to make programming capability into robotic systems. Another is the use of new kinds of sensors and connected bias to cover environmental aspects like temperature, air pressure, light, stir and further. All of this serves the generation of more complex and sophisticated robots for multitudinous uses, including manufacturing, health and safety, and mortal backing.

Business Review provides breaking news, informed opinion and deep analysis concentrated on the robotics, automation and intelligentsystemssector.As  manufacturers continue to deliver inventions across capabilities, price, and form factor, results are being executed in an ever- adding number of industriousness and operations. Advancements in processing power and AI capabilities mean that we can now use robots to fulfill critical purposes in a plethora of ways.

Robots are used in multiple areas, especially where they can palliate emphatic tasks or complete operations that are dangerous for a mortal to take over. Recent advances in and AI are revolutionizing business, society and our particular lives.

While robotics operations vary greatly — giving directions, grazing shelves, welding substance in dangerous surroundings, and much further — moment’s robots can generally be grouped into six categories. Autonomous Mobile Robots( AMRs), Automated Guided Vehicles( AGVs), Articulated Robots, Humanoids, Cobots, hybrids, Fixed Vs. Non Fixed Location Robots.

[a-captions-blog]

[Image descriptions: 1. Tweet by Neil Gaiman @ NeilHimself that says, ‘Nobody gets to gatekeep Sandman. Not as a comic, not in the audible adaptation and definitely not on the TV. There's no entrance exam, nor should there be. Everyone is welcome.’ This is a response to a Tweet by okunrun aimo @ theNobody [handle cut off] that says, ‘I hope you’re right, because Sandman fans can be very hostile to people who haven’t read the comics. like, it’s like we don’t have the right to watch the tv series, because we’re not fans. original fans who have follo [Tweet cut off]. 2. Ask from SnowBouquet that says, ‘What’s your opinion on there being “fake’ and “real” fans/nerds?’ Gaiman has responded: Until I meet any obviously fake human beings – and I think they’d have to be held together with gue, or have the eyes painted on, or really be dolls or slugs or something – I think all people, not to mention fans, nerds, geeks, and suchlike are real. Some people haven’t read/seen/done as much as others. Some people haven’t been around as long. Some people wear T-shirts without knowing everything about what the T-shirt represents. But they are still real, and (and this is the important bit) [italics] everybody starts somewhere [end italics]. People at my signings sometimes tell me, apologetically, that they aren’t real fans, they’ve only read one book or a single comic, not like the people who know every obscure reference I make and win quizzes on my life and times that I would probably fail. And I tell them I’m glad they read the book. And I am. \End descriptions]

Hi Mr Gaiman!

What’s your opinion on people saying someone is only a real fan of something if they consumed all of the available media of that thing? (e.g. “you aren’t a real fan of sandman if you only watched the netflix series”)

I feel like more and more people do this to sort of gate keep otherwise amazing fandoms and personally i think it’s quite sad to see.

As I posted on a more or less dead site a couple of years ago:

[jainsurgicalhospital]

Common Gynecological Problems: Causes, Symptoms, and Treatments

INTRODUCTION

Women's health is a complex and intricate field, encompassing a range of physical and hormonal changes throughout a woman's life. Common gynecological problems can significantly impact a woman's well- being, quality of life, and reproductive health. In this comprehensive companion, we will explore some of the most current gynecological issues, claw into their underpinning causes, identify their symptoms, and give perceptivity into effective treatments. It's important to note that while this composition aims to give general information, seeking substantiated medical advice from a healthcare professional is essential for accurate opinion and treatment. 

1. Menstrual Irregularities 

Causes   Menstrual irregularities can be caused by hormonal imbalances, polycystic ovary pattern( PCOS), thyroid diseases, stress, inordinate exercise, and certain specifics.

Symptoms   Changes in cycle length, heavy or light bleeding, missed ages, and severe cramps.  

Treatments  Treatment depends on the underpinning cause and may include hormonal remedy, life changes, and, in severe cases, surgical interventions.

 2. Urinary Tract Infections( UTIs) 

Causes  Bacterial infections entering the urethra and travelling to the bladder. 

Symptoms   Burning sensation during urination, frequent urination, cloudy or bloody urine, and lower abdominal discomfort.

Treatments  Antibiotics specified by a healthcare provider. Drinking plenitude of water and maintaining good hygiene can help UTIs.

3. Pelvic seditious complaint( PID)

Causes  Bacterial infection is generally transmitted through sexually transmitted infections( STIs) like chlamydia and gonorrhoea.

Symptoms  Lower abdominal pain, abnormal vaginal discharge, fever, and painful intercourse.

Treatments   Antibiotics to treat the infection. Early treatment is pivotal to help complications like gravidity.

4. Endometriosis

Causes  Towel analogous to the filling of the uterus grows outside the uterus

Symptoms Pelvic pain, painful ages, pain during intercourse, and gravidity.

Treatments  Pain operation, hormone remedy, and surgical options to remove or reduce the abnormal towel. ** 

5. Fibroids **

Causes Non-cancerous growths in the uterus. 

Symptoms Heavy menstrual bleeding, pelvic pain, frequent urination, and lower reverse pain. 

Treatments  specifics,non-invasive procedures, and surgical options depending on the size and symptoms.

6. Polycystic Ovary Pattern( PCOS) 

Causes Hormonal imbalance, genetics, and insulin resistance.

Symptoms Irregular ages, acne, weight gain, redundant hair growth, and fertility issues. 

Treatments life changes, hormone remedy, and specifics to manage symptoms and ameliorate fertility.

7. Vaginal incentive Infections **

Causes  Overgrowth of incentive in the vagina, frequently due to hormonal changes, antibiotics, or a weakened vulnerable system.

Symptoms Itching, burning, white, cabin rubbish- suchlike discharge, and discomfort. ** 

Treatments Over-the-counter or traditional antifungal creams or suppositories. 

Conclusion 

While these are some common gynaecological issues that women may face, it's important to flash back that every existent's experience is unique. Regular gynecological check- ups, a healthy life, and open communication with a healthcare provider are essential for maintaining optimal gynecologicalhealth.However, seeking professional medical guidance is the stylish way to insure accurate opinion and applicable treatment, If you are passing any symptoms or enterprises. Flash back, knowledge is power, and taking charge of your gynecological health empowers you to lead a healthier and happier life.