#the world really needed another mid rant

[anheliotrope]

Shallow Approaches to Transhumanism

I recently watched Rhystic Studies' video on Phyrexia. In case you aren't aware, Phyrexia is a hellscape and a faction where horrific and runaway transhumanism features heavily.

I am often disappointed by how shallow even (supposedly!) great works of art treat transhumanism. I don't think Phyrexia says much that is meaningful on the topic of transhumanism's political problems -- and I'm pretty sure that was never the goal. I don't think MTG has to be deep on this axis, people don't go to fantasy for realistic political analogues, but despite that, people are drawn to trying to suggest strong connections to real world political issues. And this always makes me focus on the inadequacies of art rather than its virtues.

We live in a world where, sans AI risk, the main threat from technology is unequal control, which will lead to the class that has control over technology dominating the class that does not -- and this process can accelerate. This social problem is rarely represented in media and it is ongoing. It is not a problem of the future, it is a problem of the present. Those who do not have access to technology are forever at the mercy of those who do. And technological progress accelerates technological progress.

More on Phyrexia

To take Phyrexia as an example of shallowness -- it has beings that are just stronger than others. The resulting hierarchy is somewhat arbitrary or fueled by fantasy worldbuilding -- it is not generated by the societal structure of Phyrexia. The concept of Phyrexia generates the social structures as needed, in order to serve the themes the artist already wanted to depict.

And a lot of these themes of technology-induced spiritual degradation are used purely because it is a popular and easy theme to approach. It has been affixed to the shared artistic consciousness of humanity though sheer repetition because it is an easy way to introduce a tension where none would otherwise exist, and to explore interesting and messed up things.

Its origins lie in two places. Religious opposition and economic fears. For that matter, I can freely admit it is delicious for Phyrexia to have religious overtones -- this embraces spiritual degradation, it's just on the nose now, but it also assimilates a desire for spirituality within that which supposedly destroys it. I think MTG fails to take this synthesis to its extreme however -- Phyrexia is never a genuine religion that just happens to be extremely messed up, but rather it is a monument to the sin of pride, ala Divine Comedy.

Phyrexia's language is vastly more developed by the creators and has its own unique beauty, but the same care isn't given to its religious worldbuilding, which remains, in most cases, just an inversion of good, failing to emphasize the alien.

Human Revolution [spoilers]

Looking at Deus Ex: Human Revolution, the endings feature a pretty insane set of choices. I am going to explain them very expediently, feel free to look them up in more detail.

Reveal the truth about what corporations have been doing with augmentation technology and let humanity decide.

Pervert the truth, blame extremists, so that skepticism of augmentation technology does not rise.

Pervert the truth, to make all of it look as just an accident that can be resolved by increased government regulation.

Destroy the mcguffin facility, never share any information to humanity, to "let them decide".

The fourth ending is so idiotic we can ignore it.

If you have any respect for your fellow humans, casually creating an extremely potent distortion of reality by falsifying evidence on such an important matter should be out of the question (2 & 3).

If you pick ending 2, Adam talks about how it is in humanity's nature to rise above its limitations. Ending 3 is like a dumbass centrist take, humanity should self improve, but we need more oversight.

Ending 1, which is, on the object level, the least morally objectionable one, triggers Adam to say some extremely opinionated shit at the end such as "Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal". Technology is bad and humanity cannot be trusted with it.

The common theme in all of this is that there are never specific groups at fault or specific features of how we have set up society. It's always about the essential moral value of technology and whether humanity's nature is good enough to handle technology. It is inherently both a collectivistic view and a strongly morally essentialist view. Phyrexia investigates transhumanism from the same angle, in this respect. I could rant for two hours how extremely Christian brained this is, but I'll spare you that.

What I mean to say in the end is that the vast majority of media is completely allergic to dealing with object level problems, with specificity. It is easier to repeat existing themes than to look again at the world and investigate something more relevant to our lives.

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 12

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Summary: You and your husband adjust to life with Jake in the mix and Marc gone quiet.

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Content: fluff, some angst, spicy times (more under the cut)

Warnings: cursing, references to Marc's trama/past, food prep and talk about food (I know this can be triggering for some) sex implied, foreplay, handjob, but language is not overly explicit and is gn. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Steven arrived home from work, having narrowly escaped a London downpour. Setting his bag down right inside the door, he shed his damp jacket and kicked off his shoes, thinking Marc might pipe up and scold him at any moment.

Marc was the neat one. Like military neat. Like, don't leave a mess or mom will make you regret it, neat. Like erase your existence from your alter...from the authorities...from the world, neat.

Steven was the messy one. Scatterbrained, he'd been called by a boss or two. It wasn't so much scatterbrained as it was a bit of unaware brain sharing.

But he hadn't shared much of anything with Marc lately. Not since Khonshu had stripped him of his armor mid-fight and almost gotten him killed. That was two weeks ago.

Padding over to his fish tank, Steven placed his hands on his knees, bending forward to take a look at his tiny little school. There were four fishies now, which almost seemed appropriate. One for Steven, Marc, you and now Jake.

Narrowing his eyes, Steven scrutinized the colorful little creatures before reaching for some fish food.

"All right then, time to eat," he chimed. Dumping a few flakes into the water, he smiled at their eager nibbles, until his eyes caught his own reflection.

"You there?" He asked, not actually addressing anyone, but definitely thinking of Marc. "No? ...didn't think so."

With a sigh, Steven sauntered to the kitchen to start the kettle. The flat was dark - the thunderstorm outside made sure of it, and he worried, for a moment, about you trudging home in these conditions.

"Should be alright," he mused to himself, the way he was prone to do. "Not due home for a couple hours yet."

He stopped short when he saw a note on the kitchen counter. It was not unlike the several notes you had left for Jake, on the bedside table. Same envelope at least.

"What's this, then?" he mused, picking it up.

The letters, displayed in your handwriting, spelled 'Marc'.

"Hm. Left you a note. Best come read it," Steven tried to tell his alter. Hearing nothing, he chewed on his lip for a moment before turning the envelope over in his hand.

The contents really did belong to Marc, but Steven felt that maybe had had the best chance of actually communicating with him. So he opened the letter and began to read aloud.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be reading this," Steven said to no one, because apparently no one was listening. "If you're not going to look at it, you should at least hear it."

'Dear Marc, I can't remember the last time we've gone so long without seeing one another, or at least speaking. Even on your longest missions, it never felt like this. If I could go back to the last time I saw you huddled on the kitchen floor, I would have never let you out of my arms. I would have never ranted about what Jake should do, or how much I hate Khonshu. I would've just held on and told you the truth over and over - that you're everything. That it didn't matter to me if you wore the suit again without telling me because I trust you, and because you can make your own decisions. I've always trusted your judgment. You are the real Moon Knight and you had every right to put on the suit if you felt like you wanted or needed to. I would have told you I support you 100%, that you're needed, that you're loved - that my anger and my bright ideas about how we should march right up to Khonshu and punch his bony beak didn't matter, not when you were feeling so shut out, so displaced, so thrown backwards in time, made to feel any less than. You are not less than Steven. You are not less than Jake. Or me. And you sure as hell are not less than an ancient deity who needs a modern day human body to roam the streets of London. It is he who needs you. And I need you. I need you, Marc. I need to see you again so badly, I can't even breathe sometimes. Not at night, after Steven falls asleep, not in the shower sometimes, or at work, when someone asks after you. I need you so much. Please, this isn't about making you feel guilty. You're my husband. You are the love of my life. I know you're resting now. I know you're taking the time you need. Steven is taking good care of you. But when you're ready, please, please come back to me. I love you so much.'

Running a hand over his chin, Steven folded the letter and put it back where he found it. Peering at his reflection in the microwave, Steven waited...hoping...

But it was quiet.

The next night, you made it home first. Steven had spoiled you rotten the previous, stormy evening. He claimed he was treating you to some warm soup and a hot bath because you were drenched when you arrived home.

But you knew it was because he read your letter and wanted to cheer you up. In fact, you believed that Steven missed Marc too. They didn't always co-front - you typically were only with one of them at a time, but they did talk all the time, and what you had sworn to Marc one afternoon on the rooftop was true: he was Steven's best friend in all the world.

So, a comforting bath and cuddles in bed made you both feel worlds better.

Tonight you wanted to show Steven a little love right back. It was really too bad that you found yourself elbow deep in making vegan fajitas when you heard the front door, because you desperately wanted a big hug.

"I'm in here, babe!" You called, dripping your way over to the sink to wash up.

Steven would have normally spouted off a greeting, two terms of endearment and one fun fact by the time he reached you, but as you turned to see him leaning against the door frame, you only heard the sound of your name...in an American accent.

Your heart rate tripled - your face flamed hot...then you saw your husband's dark curls were covered by a flat cap.

Holy shit. "Jake?"

"Hola," he winked, folding his arms over his chest. Noticing your apparent distress - and automatically assuming he was the cause, the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"Mi amor?" He questioned, his eyes going wide like a child getting in trouble.

"Jake!" You breathed, rushing up to throw your arms around him.

His body sagged in relief, melting into yours until he found the strength to wrap his bigger, stronger arms around your frame.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you gasped, gripping him desperately. "You're here, I can't believe it."

Surprised but thrilled at how relieved and happy you seemed, Jake nuzzled the spot right above your ear, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

"I hope it's all right," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

Easing back, you gazed up into his deep brown eyes. "What do you mean? Of course it's all right."

Chewing on his lip worriedly, he shrugged one shoulder adorably, still holding on to you. "It's not a bad time, is it? You're not...supposed to be with Steven? Or anyone?"

You melted. "Baby, it's your body. If you're here, you're here. You don't need my permission." Gently caressing his cheek, you shook your head in wonder. "I just - I don't think I've ever seen you before midnight."

Glancing down at his outfit, you realized you didn't recognize his clothing as Steven or Marc's. Your heart swelled, seeing this new piece of him - a faded, denim jacket over a striped t-shirt.

"And I've never seen you wear anything except Steven's PJ's or your driving uniform," you added, brushing your hand over his.

"Or nothing at all," he cheekily added, biting his lip, waiting for your reaction.

You grinned like a fool, giggling as he swooped you up into a tender kiss. He sampled your lips one at a time, sucking gently, taunting you - until you licked hotly into his mouth, sinking your fingers into his curls. This knocked the cap off his head, which made him growl in response.

Two strong hands dragged your thighs around his waist and in a few long strides, he planted you on the countertop with an 'umph!'

"Sorry," he murmured, his forehead touching yours affectionately as he squeezed your hips, settling right between your spread thighs.

"Was that an offer?" you whispered, referring to him wearing nothing at all. Peppering his smiling lips with little kisses and driving him absolutely crazy, you added, "Is that why you're here?"

Easing back slowly, he swallowed. "I just wanted to see you," he earnestly admitted, a little uncertainty creasing his forehead. "I thought...maybe we could have dinner together. Is that okay?"

He was pretty new to this whole...you thing. Being married...sort of. Making an effort to...be with you. And not just sleep beside you. So he wasn't entirely sure if he was barging in to a special evening with Steven. He also wondered if you were hoping he was Marc. Actually, he was pretty certain that the surprise on your face when he first called your name was you mistaking him for Marc, for just a second.

"Come here," you softly cooed, pulling on his jacket to drag his mouth back to yours. Brushing your lips over his, you used your legs to urge his body flush against your center. "Yes, we can have dinner together..." which reminded you - you were mid-fajita prep when Jake arrived.

Tapping him cutely on the nose, you kissed his mouth one more time. "To be continued."

As you carried on with food prep, a different energy sizzled in the kitchen with Jake, most notably because he was a different person. Marc cooked with you plenty of times. In fact, he probably cooked more often than anyone and he was pretty good at it.

Cooking with Marc was precise, detailed - he knew what he wanted to do and you willingly played a supporting role. The two of you moved with practiced synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance.

With Steven, it was all about experimentation. As a vegan, Steven was used to substituting ingredients and making things up on the fly. He also left a huge, hilarious mess behind, and typically ended up wearing a portion of his recipe.

For this reason, you had bought Steven an apron that said, 'Team Herbivore' which made Marc roll his eyes every time he saw it. Not because of the slogan but because it had three cute little veggies with smiling faces on it.

With Jake, there was no precise exchange of places, nor an experimental mess. Jake moved right with you from behind, loosely caging you in, picking up a spoon you would set down, stirring while you reached for a knife. You chopped and he added spices. He didn't even ask.

Once your hand was knife free and scraping veggies into the skillet, he was nuzzling into your neck and humming.

You lost your concentration a few times because he was just so close.

"This okay?" He would ask periodically, slipping his hand around your waist to sway with you.

"Where did you learn to cook?" You giggled, melting at the sound of his apparent singing voice?

He paused, going a little stiff.

Hoping you hadn't hit a nerve, you turned around slowly to find him smiling wistfully. "I used to watch my mom."

Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what to say. Marc had never mentioned cooking with his mom, or her really cooking much at all. He had mentioned going to bed hungry though.

"I know...how she was," Jake softly interjected into your buzzing thoughts. "Especially with Marc." His gaze dropped as he eased back a step. "But sometimes, she would sing in Spanish. And cook. Sometimes I helped."

Reaching for his hand, you gently squeezed. "I didn't know you guys spoke Spanish until we met," you admitted, trying your best to connect a little more with Jake. "That sounds like a wonderful memory."

"One of the few," he sighed. Almost shyly meeting your eyes, he smiled warmly. "I've never told anyone that - or anything...about her."

Using your hold on his hand to pull him closer, you slid one arm around his waist. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed back, nodding over your shoulder toward the sizzling skillet. "Better stir, mi vida."

Jake's seasonings were totally on point and dinner was delicious. The two of you cleaned up the kitchen and headed to the living room to relax. You noticed Jake sat a little awkwardly on the sofa - in total contrast to the smooth, panther like movements you were accustomed to, late at night, in your bedroom.

"Jake, you okay?" You asked him, grabbing your current reading material and settling down beside him.

He nodded unconvincingly. This was wildly foreign to him. Jake only did a few things in this world: protect, kill when he had to, serve Khonshu, sleep and fuck. He didn't even eat that often - his alters usually saw to most of the body's physical care.

"What...what do you do? At night? What should I do?" He adorably asked.

You almost laughed, it was so cute, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Well...Marc and I play card games or do puzzles. We watch baseball games or old action movies - "

"You like baseball?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "The time change is a little weird from here to Chicago or New York, but we watch some afternoon games, or we watch older games."

He nodded, absorbing the information as you went on.

"Steven and I read together, or he reads to me. We like documentaries too. Sometimes I help him study for school." You chuckled, wondering if this all sounded boring to such a night owl like Jake. "Sometimes we have word search races - like, to see who can finish the fastest."

"I do crosswords in my car sometimes," Jake shrugged, as if he totally understood the appeal. "Do you like crosswords?"

"Mm-hmm," you grinned.

It was on. The two of you found a crossword website online and printed out two copies of the same puzzle. Turning on your phone's stopwatch, the race was on.

Jake kicked your ass.

"Let's go again," he chimed, finding another crossword on the laptop. "Loser has to take of their clothes."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Mr. Lockley," you playfully scolded.

Hearing you call him Mister anything had him shutting the laptop and scooping you up in his arms, almost racing to the bedroom. "Fuck it," he chuckled. "I surrender, I'll take off my clothes."

You howled with laughter as he deposited you on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Next came his socks - then he went for his belt. Shit, he wasn't kidding.

Crawling backwards on the bed, you settled back to enjoy the show, propped up on a pile of pillows.

Jake had peeled off his jacket while you were cooking, so once his pants were loose, he tugged off his t-shirt. You licked your lips at the way his abdomen flexed at the motion, and almost mewled at the way the shirt's collar mussed his curls. Then he paused, checking for a reaction before removing his pants.

"Don't let me stop you...Mr. Lockley," you teased, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The corner of his mouth curled as he pushed his pants and boxers all the way down. Leaning forward to kick them off his feet, a loose curl fell across his forehead.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him naked and ready for you. Climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, he hovered over you, reveling in the way your eyes devoured him.

"Your turn," he purred, teasing you with a nibble to your lips.

Running your hands all over his smooth skin, you felt between his legs, teasing his length with your fingertips.

Hissing in pleasure, he more than willingly allowed you to have your way, licking wickedly into your mouth while grinding into your palm.

"Do you really read and study all the time, mi vida?" He groaned out, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. "Or is this more your idea of fun?"

"Definitely this," you breathed against his mouth. "A fucking lot of this."

Spending the evening with Jake was a balm to your tender heart. You had seen him since the night Khonshu healed him - since your first night together - but only late at night, for a quick conversation, or for a repeat performance.

So spending an entire, domestic evening with him, ending up between the sheets for hours, before falling asleep draped across his naked body - you were in heaven. Maybe Jake really was going to ease into your life - actually be in a relationship with you.

Your heart swelled with love for your husband - for all the lovely, wonderful parts of the system he was. You would have to grab some extra ingredients from the store and plan another vegan fajita night for Steven, since Jake enjoyed the first batch. Not that Steven minded, angel that he was.

Which only left Marc.

Even with your heart so full and alive, there was still a gaping hole. As always, you tried not to put the other two in the middle of any situation, or treat them like messengers to try to get to Marc. But they were more than ready with updates.

Steven had confessed to reading the letter, and trying to talk out loud to Marc several times a day. Jake said the same, finally asking you if maybe it was his fault that Marc was so absent - so silent.

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

next->

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dividers by saradika

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

I'm always fascinated when someone at the club rants about "how they just invented T'au to cash on them anime weebs", completly oblivious to the time and culture of their creation. So T'au came out first in 2001, and were obviously conceptualized some years prior, which puts them into the late 90s in their original design. This is slowly hitting "the majority of the populance has no relevant internet access whatsoever" levels of "barbaric analog ages".

So imagine where GW sits in the late 90s - its a small studio somewhere in England barely coming to touch with the first elements of the internet, with the most dominant medium being television which... is not really about "exotic" shows from the other end of the world? Those get ported over when they have proven to be a hit in their own country mostly.

And without the internet as we know it today, the anime community just... did not exist. You have to understand that the whole concept of online anime culture centred around piracy, fansubs, fanart, and the creation of the term "weeabo" was a mid-to-late 00s thing, and it took almost another decade before "weeb" was somewhat reclaimed and no longer an online-slur.

There was a whole generation that grew up with (often horribly localized) japanese shows on TV (Pokemon, Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon) which came over with some delay to their release in Japan. By the time this generation came to congregate into online spaces and form any sort of fan-identity and culture, the T'au and their battlesuits had already been a design over a decade old.

"But wait isn't Gundam from the 70s"? Yes, that is totally correct. However, this is the one glaring mistake people make: you cannot compare modern day media content circulation around the globe to the analog ages. Those of us who remember these barbaric analog times know how it was: you just did not know stuff existed. If it was not in the newspaper or on the telly, it might as well not exist unless you knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy.

Sure, the Internet was slowly becoming a thing that found widespread use, but it would still take a while - not to mention the technical limitations. No streaming episodes. You start the download (if you can find someone who hosted the file of a series you had to know even existed first) somewhere around lunch, to hopefully get something to watch in the afternoon. Oh and also that blocked the household's phone-line and if the download cancelled for whatever reason then it was back to square one. Under such conditions, the online community we know today could simply not exist, as the alternative was importing stuff from the other end of the world for quite the money, or hoping a really shoddy localized VCR-tape ended up at your Blockbuster-equivalent.

Of course there was anime before that time, even those regarded absolute classics in the west, but those mostly achieved that rank over here in retrospective. When in the late 00s people wanted to watch stuff and had the ability to do so they shared what was considered "the classics" first (shared to the best of their ability with one episode cut into 5 parts on youtube with sometimes very questionable subtitles).

So even if we assume there was someone at GW in the 90s who was a total "proto-weeb" and Gudam-fan, there was literally no reason to "make knock-off Gundams" because the miniscule western wargaming audience SIMPLY DID NOT KNOW THE STUFF.

You can't make a marketing ploy to reference something your average consumers have never heard off. If anything, the creation of the T'au as a robotic-centred faction was inevitable: they needed a design that could hold their own in the setting, but Necrons hogged the full-robot niche, Imperials were weird cyborgs, Orks the "madman-scrap-tech", and Nids the "biotech". The only thing left here was "not full robot but also very clean and efficient" - and just like that, the Battlesuits and Drones were born.

It was only in later years when the Internet had come into full swing where they decided to go full-suit with releases such as the Riptide, but if we talk about the OG design of T'au and the first decade? Nothing to do with anime or "fishing for weebs". The fish would not be coming to that spot for almost a decade, and it would take a bit more before their numbers were plentyful enough to make it worth casting a line out.

[hannahbarberra162]

Poor bloodbath reader who's normally very docile finally getting fed up and snapping at a crewmate who has the audacity to go on about the WBP fixation on "freedom" in their presence. Just yelling at them to shut the hell up, how can they say any of that bullshit with them right there?!

“But its not really that bad,” drawled Ace, as he sat eating a peach near your chair. You began this conversation annoyed, you knew he was going to get peach juice on something and not clean it up. And you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself for another 4 hours. And he talked with his mouth full of food. Sometimes the Commander was alright, he was pretty funny and wasn’t bad to look at. Other times you wanted him to leave you the fuck alone. Now was one of the latter. You hoped Deuce would come and intervene. Soon.

“I mean, yeah, it kind of is,” you replied. “I’m stuck in this chair watching my blood get filtered out for six hours a day. Do you know how long that is?”

“We all have work to do, I work more than six hours a day too. And you get to travel the world on a Yonko crew and see the New World from a safe vantage point. And you have all of us to help you!” You were getting angrier and angrier, trying to hold your tongue to prevent cursing out the Commander. He was completely lacking in empathy, which was one of the things you disliked the most about him. Ace continued his long winded rant. “Isn’t it great to help Whitebeard too? I’m sure he’ll help you accomplish your dreams, he’s actually a kind and giving person. He helped me so much even after I tried killing him for 100 days in a row -”

“Ace -”

“He didn’t kill me and instead I worked my way up to Commander -”

“Ace -”

“And now I can do whatever I want, with all my siblings by my side! All I needed -”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you screamed. “In case you don’t remember, I was kidnapped by Marco! This isn’t work and I don’t want to FUCKING BE HERE!” Ace stopped talking mid chew, eyes wide. You knew that stupid mother hen Marco would hear you and investigate but you were too mad. Ace didn’t know when to shut his goddamn mouth. Do whatever you want? Please. You tried taking a deep breath to calm down. Exhaling, you continued in a clipped tone. “I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss my house, I miss my island, I miss everything that was taken from me. I already had siblings, real ones. I never wanted to travel the world on a pirate ship. I was perfectly happy where I was. Just because this is your dream doesn’t mean it’s mine.” You already saw Marco through the window, coming to intervene. You sighed at the stunned Commander. “Just leave. And by the way, it’s not work if you don’t get paid. Being compelled to do something isn’t the same as a choice.” Ace shut his mouth with a snap and left the room, leaving the half eaten peach on the counter. Of course.

[dozing-composing]

may we have some inside job headcanons for Ron with a coworker who’s a half-blood vampire? And since they’re a half blood, he didn’t realize for a while until he saw them turn into a bat or walk up a wall, and then they a little crash course on their vampiric traits 🦇

Ron Is So... Babygirl. Underrated Character For Real! I Also Have A Different Definition Of Vampire Than Most, So Be Aware That Mine May Not Align With Your Definition! I Can Add Or Change Things If Needed!

ᴠᴀᴍᴘʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ…

✦ Ron is a simple guy when it comes to work. Go in, get the job done, come back. He doesn't really hold much regard to his coworkers, until he met you, that is. ✦ You were just another regular person. Someone he should be able to count on should things go awry. Normally, he doesn't like working with other people, but something about you seemed off. He can't quite figure it out... ✦ But one day he accidentally walks in on you ranting to yourself. He rolls his eyes and is about to walk out to leave, but then he sees you walk up a wall. Defying gravity right before his eyes! Then you walk on the ceiling like you would on the ground. ⤷"How the hell are you doing that?!" "RON!" You stop mid-rant, and glide down, your feet reuniting with the floor below. ✦ Now he's ultimately confused. Do you have anti-gravity shoes or something?? What kind of technology are you using? Were you always able to do that? Why are you able to do that?? ✦ You sit him down to explain. You're what's considered a "half blood," meaning you get the best of both worlds. Whatever questions he has, you answer. ✦ Whether you were born like this, or were bit is completely up to you. You say you can do all sorts of stuff like turn into a bat, levitate a couple of feet off the ground, walk up walls, see clearly in the dark, all the good stuff. Sunlight doesn't really have an effect on you either, but you do sunburn easier than most people. Your nocturnal ability goes in and out, turns out still being human causes you to still get tired. ✦ He's fascinated. But there's one thing he's still confused on. And that's why you decided to hide this from him. He would've loved to work with you more! ✦ And that's the thing. You don't like bringing it up not because it's a touchy subject or anything, but because it usually scare people away. Everyone thinks you're out to get them and their blood, but that's not true. Being half allows you to enjoy human food. And while you can drink blood, you consume stuff like animal blood. ✦ He nods as he takes in your concern. He never thought of it like that. You're out here trying to be friendly and when you show your fangs (metaphorically, unless you did show them) they back away from you. ✦ From now on, he's going to put in so much effort to show his appreciation for you. Some of his gifts are really cheesy. One time, he got you a stuffed bat plush and had the words "Batty for You!" embroidered on one of the wings. You still have it to this day.

[lepus-littlebear]

(Analysis?) Summoner(MC) returning to home-world

“We’ll help you return to your home world……or not?”

The ArTw boys and their views about sending Summoner back home analysis(?). It's more like a rant but here we go.

Disclaimer, i wrote this at 1 in the morning so i may have left out more things i got to say and i’ll probably add them later but have this for now-

SPOILER ALERT

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I’ll use Summoner’s canon official name here- “Lee Dam”/”Dam(i)”(first name) bc it’s convenient ✩

So as far as we've established, Lee Dam is from Mid-Eartheim or at least that’s what people around her conclude. Later in the story, they even suspect that Dami is not from another world at all.

But here, we’ll go with our main boys’ perspective.

When it comes to sending Lee Dam home, the boys seem to have separate opinions.

🐑Arcturus above all seems to be very keen and persistent in Dami returning back to her world. He’s the first one of the boys to promise her a safe return home and not only that, he’s the only one who keeps on insisting on this promise for the first few chapters of the story to the point where he’s the only sorcerer with a voice line in home screen who once again promises her to find her way back and asking her to trust him.

I, at first was like yeah Arcky being helpful lil bean like he is but is he really? That’s what I thought after progressing throughout the story. Arcky looks like one of the purest guy ever but later as we move on in main story, he seems somewhat shady. My theory is that he is hiding the fact that he knows or even better remembers something that others don’t.

Y’know the Void organization thing going on? I suspect Arcky of having something to do with The Void. But when there’s discussion of Void, he says that he’s been curious about it and has no idea what it is. Although I would like to believe him, I have this teeny tiny feeling he’s pretending OR he forgot and remembers only fragments of those memories related to Void.

In a library scene,  he clearly sighs and seems relieved after he says that info about Void is top secret.

Further on, when things are still tense and even Schedar orders that Dami should be guarded even more than before, the always over-worrying Arcky is careless and invites Dami over to grab snacks outside knowing full well he is supposed to be extra careful. And he doesn’t even sense that someone is following them at all? This seems far too careless even for someone as clumsy as Arcky.

Vega even reminds Arcky later on about this mistake and states the duo was being followed. That he should’ve consulted with others before doing anything. Vega requested for an urgent summon by Dami’s side and his voice in the call seems to be audibly restless hinting it was no small matter.

Maybe Arcky just absent-mindedly did that or maybe he didn’t.

I cannot be sure here but Arcky in my opinion seems to have a motive other than being simply helpful to Lee Dam find her way back. He’s more consistent about this matter than anyone, almost as if he thinks she needs to go back. She shouldn’t be here.

Again, i’m not sure but we’ll see how it plays out. But one thing I’m certain is that he doesn’t truly wish for Dami to get hurt or at least that’s what I like to believe. He cares for her genuinely.

♊Pollux is a confusing one for me. He seems kinda neutral on the matter. But my conclusion is that he doesn’t like the thought of Dami returning back. Despite saying “i don’t make friends easily” in their first meeting, Pollux actually is the one who initiates their friendship. Saving a seat for her, texting her lecture materials, helping her out, etc. He even grows protective of her later on and continuously suspects Sirius, his clan fellow when it comes to Dami.

But hey, nobody rlly trusts Sirius so understandable. And with this growing closeness, Pollux would rather not part with Lee Dam but i feel like if he’s told it’s for her safety & well-being, he would let her go for her good.(cue some crying and stubbornness)

🐨🐺Listen I may sound crazy but in this matter Alpheratz and Sirius are quite similar. In one side, there’s Alpheratz continuously suggesting Lee Dam to not get herself involved in all of this, and on another, we have Sirius always warning Dami to not see, respond, or hear to the entity appearing in her consciousness time and again. Although both have not clearly revealed their say on our summoner’s return to mid-eartheim, I feel that they think it’s better to leave and go back to her normal world. A world where she won’t have to worry about being targeted every 5 seconds.

Alpharetz indirectly expressing that he would rather she return to her world by always insisting Lee Dam to not tag along with the guides to their dangerous trips and his affection level going up when Dami chooses to stay behind.

Sirius closing her eyes and ears every time it feels like Dami is again in contact with the giant eye and the entity, and warning her to not come to the tower when she does. Him texting her that he prays she leaves before matters get worse.

Sirius is confusing, he involves her and initiates danger but still protects her and says he would rather like it if she isn’t included in all that chaos. BUT after reading floor 11, I have a feeling Alpheratz changed his mind a bit? It’s more like, she’s someone i’ve wished for years and years– since the previous timeline so I’m reluctant to lose her again, that’s why I’d rather give my all to keep her safe this time no matter what.

❄️Vega, oh Vega, my sweet lil snowball. I’ll say that he’s conflicted. There are many assumptions in my mind about him. It’ll be so freaking hard for him to let go of Dami, his childhood sweetheart who he waited an entire decade and more for. Will he let go of someone who he spent his lifetime waiting for? Hard to say but maybe yes. Vega is selfless and wants her to be safe above anything else.

He also says that he is sick of seeing Dami be involved with this world and its dangers that she doesn’t deserve. He might side with Alpheratz slightly. He doesn’t want to let go of her but at the same time, he would rather have her be happy than see her get hurt and lose her forever. Or even better, he leaves with her since they’re both from Mid-Eartheim. After all, Vega spent his entire lifetime awaiting one star and that's Lee Dam and only Lee Dam, no one else.

♍Have you noticed that Spica’s the only one who has never stated that he wishes Lee Dam to return and not be involved with Bound Arlyn’s crisis? Yes, some other guys haven’t either but have you noticed he’s rather opposite to wanting her to return? He advises Arcky to not keep false promises like sending her home. He’s also continuously shown to want Dami to join them when they plan to go on a field trip(visit) and actively invites her to potentially dangerous places.

He does not have any malicious intentions but instead, from what I see, I’m rather suggesting that Spica wants Dami to adapt to her new life completely and continue as a summoner. He’s always keen when it comes to discussing Lee Dam’s potential as a sorcerer and even asking her if she wants to become a constellation’s choice. Imo, Spica wants Dami to get better in her school activities and use her power for the betterment and protection of the world. HOWEVER remembering that sus lil conversation he shared with our local shady man who's trusted by no one in the banquet, i have doubts on Spica too. (basically, i doubt 3/6 of these men bc otoges have taught me better than to trust someone even if they are love interests)

To put in small words, let me categorise them-

“I want you to return back”

-Arcturus

“It’s better to go back”

-Alpheratz, Sirius, Vega(?)

“I don’t want you to but it can’t be helped”

-Pollux, Vega(?)

“Would you like to stay instead?”

-Spica

The following pics kinda summarise my thoughts(?)

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anyways thanks if you read until here, i just wrote this for fun and none of these are facts but rather my silly little venting bc the plot is just too good.

Here's a bonus: our local shady war criminal as Florida man news headlines

he would do this.

[mikauhso]

Small fandom rant, feel free not to read.

I don’t really care what an artist has done as a person, unless they’re like literally hitler or someone who you’d punch in public for their crimes, I find it a bit sad and annoying how so many artists online are willing to tear down someone else’s art to say “I did it better.” It’s one thing to give constructive crit in good faith, and it’s another to make an OC-ified version of canon out of your love for something, but creating something out of spite will almost always ring hollow for me. I see so much good art duct taped to posts about how “here I fixed it” or “lol you can’t draw” and I think back to the time when I learned the phrase, “you’ll attract more flies with honey than vinegar.” It disheartens me to see artists and people I’d know to be kind and constructive not extend the same kind of care hey show irl to someone online based on their parasocial relation to them. It’s such a low-stakes game and people will act like a mid show having characters they enjoy is the end of the world, and in doing so will take personal snipes and make insults at the art instead of addressing the actual problem head on, because it’s easier to derail and funnel attention and love towards yourself instead of ask that others improve. I love redesigns born of love. I love rewrites that try to see an artist’s vision, but at a certain point I wonder if people even like what they’re making art about or if they’re slapping something recognizable over top of it in order to ride trends.

The internet normalizes clout chasing to the point where I feel like we do it almost instinctively. That little insult or sly comment at the end of a post, that’ll sway people to your side. Saying why you don’t like some person despite not knowing them. It’s valid to have your opinions but I wish people would act like they would in the real world. You wouldn’t go around and scream at someone who you saw post this one thing one time. You wouldn’t punch someone based on a rumor, or verbally berate them in a restaurant. Yet people post so much shit online and it’s so normalized that we don’t even register it as a sign to log off anymore.

I feel like social media is something incredibly important for communication, but it’s currently designed in a way that centers ourselves and how much dopamine we can get, whether it’s at the expense of others, ourselves, etc. And we’re part of the problem too, we refuse to change and recognize that maybe internet points aren’t worth it and maybe it shouldn’t matter what people think of us. And maybe it’s an opinion I have but I shouldn’t judge someone based on what fraction they put out on the internet of themselves. Maybe I should cook myself a snack or go out for a walk or sit on the balcony or in the yard, talk to a friend face to face. Again, I love what the internet has done for accessibility but every accessible thing is locked behind a service designed to ignore vitriol and anger towards one another.

I guess I fall prey to this too, but I’ve seen this pattern happen again and again and again. There are people behind everything that’s made, and unless it’s ai or something stolen, an artist put their time and heart into it. It’s part of the game to have tough skin but I wish it didn’t have to be a necessity because of spiteful people.

I guess I should add an addendum, this is about a pattern I’ve seen in many a fandom. This isn’t about the morality of a show’s crew or whatever, that’s a conversation for another day that I’m not getting involved in because the personal lives of others are no business of mine. Hah, there I go again. But in all seriousness. I’ve seen it in Hazbin Hotel. I’ve seen it with High Guardian Spice. Velma. Steven universe. The owl house. Any new show I’ve seen come out where someone decides to have a moment and say “I will create out of spite and a need to be seen.” I wish artists didn’t feel the need to ride trends and that we’d value each others’ work as much as something put out by Disney. But that too, is a post for another day.

[simp-ly-writes]

Meet the Doctor pt.4

Pairing: Stardew Valley Harvey x Reader

Summary: The reader faces some unluckiness one day and one event leads to another turn of events.

Warnings: slight self-directed aggression, drinking, a bit of angst...

A/N: you know, I was really not thinking of making a third part and even plans for a fourth. But the universe decided differently and its a long one... please don't get mad at me for this one *hides behind hands.*

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Meet the Doctor Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) you are here

It had been a few days since you were last in town, having been to busy with the farm. Leaves crunching beneath your feet as you tilled the land for a new batch of pumpkins and hay. The sun was high in the sky as you stretched your back while fixing your hat and removing the sweat off your forehead with the small towel you carried in your back pocket. Thankfully enough, the fall breeze was a good equalizer to the sun's rays; you would not look forward to the summer season coming back.

--

A few hours went as the sun ran across the sky into mid-afternoon, you had run out of pumpkin seeds. Cursing to the scarecrows, you ran back inside the farmhouse and flipped through our notebook for your earlier calculations.

Smacking your head on the desk and producing a large sigh, you realized you used last year's spreadsheet, not accounting for the new quality sprinklers you had recently crafted. So throwing on your work-boots and a sweater you set off to Pierre's on your horse.

But it seemed like the world really had it out for you and your sleep-deprived brain from a few too many nights spent between the mines and fishing with Willy. It was a Wednesday, a Wednesday.

Screw you Pierre. You mentally cursed the shopkeeper, yet would never have the heart to turn to Joja Mart, even in a time of need like this. Jumping back on your horse you trotted over to the saloon to serve an early night, hitching your ride to the nearby post equipped with a water trough. You fed your companion a few snacks from the saddle and with that, entered the saloon.

--

Inside the saloon, you could find Gus cleaning some glasses as he chatted with Major Lewis at the bar who appeared to be drinking a dark liquid in a short glass. They both waved you over with a smile as you popped down on a cushioned barstool, requesting your favourite as was clockwork.

Once receiving your drink, you downed the liquid with concerning speed. Gus and Lewis looked to one another and then back at you, eyes wide as the saucers found in Evelyn's china cabinet. And that is when you start your rant about the last couple of days that have seen to go downhill since your doctor's appointment; while sending pointed look towards Lewis.

They both nod along and with Lewis's age you begin to worry about the muscles in his neck cramping, but maybe those health concerns were just the alcohol working its way through your system to come to this more relaxed state, or maybe, just maybe your subconscious was making an alternative connection...

--

By the end of your rant, and a cut-off from Gus since you still had to ride your way back home. The bar steadily filled as the night dragged on. The radio played some popular city-tunes that you remember driving to in the past. As the young adults could be heard the next room over, arcade machines wizzing and chiming as the clinking of a pool game was all echoing down the hall.

In this moment of low, you couldn't help but wonder how your life had come to be like this; you missed your Grandfather's leading presence. But in your sorrow sunken state, you felt an arm being wrapped around the back of your chair and a body filled the empty stool beside you, distracting you from your spiral of thoughts.

If you remembered correctly, his name was Elliot; with lush golden locks covered the top of his head and reached down a bit past his shoulders. A large smile was plastered across his face, his cheeks obviously rosy from the wine he carried in the glass sat atop the counter. He asked if you remembered him from a couple of weeks ago, and you nodded in replay while giving him a light smile.

Swiftly dropping his arm from around the back of your chair, he moved to grasp his wine glass once you became engaged in conversation. His eyes creasing happily over hearing your laughter echo throughout the room from his flirtatious jokes. Yet you couldn't help but compare his facial features to that of a certain glasses-covered doctor. Your mind and eyes drifting towards a window facing the local clinic...

You eventually ended up chuckling to yourself at the thought of the blonde trying to grow a moustache, but Elliot took no mind to this as he continued rambling about this new novel he was trying to write and a song he had composed from touring your grandfather's farm a few years ago.

--

By the end of the night, Elliot offers to walk you home. Before exiting the building he places his red coat around your frame. The temperature had severely dropped from the lack of sun and you gave him another small smile from this kind action.

With your horse in tow, the two of you embarked back to your farmhouse. A steady conversation of your favorite literary genres, to authors and eventually questions about all the past lives you both have in alternative universes as your brain cleared slightly from the intoxication.

You eventually don't even realize that you are standing at your door, key in hand, and then are turning the doorknob. Your horse already totting itself back to the stables for the night. Taking a moment you look back at the man standing below the steps of your house, ensuring that you make it inside safe and warm for the night.

The porch light reflected brightly off of the red coat you were still wearing. As you quickly made an effort to shove it off your frame, already feeling the wind pick at all the seams of your clothes. Though as you begin to come down the stairs, Elliot tells you to keep it for now as an excuse to see you in the future. And with that, he takes off, down towards the sea as you enter the fire-lit living-space and collapse on the couch in the early morning hours.

To be continued...

╰┈➤ A/N: please don't come after me! it gets better later I swear!

Meet the Doctor Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) you are here

[chaoticspeedrun]

How would the Rottmnt turtles realized that they're gay for the male reader

The way I love you

Hey Shadow, uuuughh! I was just so happy writing this request I think it came so fluffy, this is how I want to be loved fr, I hope you like it!

Pairing: All turtles x Male! Reader (separate)

Summary: Tooth-rotting fluff on how they each realize they are falling for their male best friend.

Type: Drabble for each turtle

Warning: None

MASTERLIST

Raphael

He had to be told.

He’d been used to having you around, so it wasn’t easy for him to notice how happy he got whenever you entered the room.

He was protective, so the way he would immediately react to shield you whenever something happened was just natural.

He felt safe with you, so speaking out about things with you was logical, you always made him feel better, feel heard, and made his feelings valid.

It’s no wonder he didn’t realize at first that his relationship with you was different from his relationship with April for example, April was like his big sister, but you were something else entirely. Raph was just happy having you as his best friend, that’s what you were, two bros against the world.

Until he started noticing he’d get a little anxious when you talked fondly about other friends, maybe it was just him being protective, after all, he didn’t know these people.

But you could take care of yourself, he knew this, you had learned from training with him after all.

That was another thing he noticed, the way his heart would speed up whenever you managed to one-up him on the training floor, the wild grin on your face, so proud of what you had achieved, but he chalked his reaction to you as just overexertion.

“You like him,” Dr. Feelings told him point blank one day, Raph didn’t even notice him put on the sweater and glasses, and Raph raised a questioning brow.

“Uh, duh? He’s my best friend, my best dude, I would trust him with my shell.”

Dr. Feelings sent a small shake of his head Raph’s way “Not like that.”

He didn’t elaborate too much on it afterward, but his words stayed on Raph’s head, the eldest of the turtles overanalyzing the words because maybe he knew what they meant, it was just not clicking, it wasn’t connecting totally.

While he was thinking this you walked into the room, a grin on your face as you asked Raph if he wanted to hang out, you were excited to show him a new videogame and while you ranted about it, the cables connected to Raph’s mind.

Oh.

He hadn’t even considered he might be interested in boys before now, no wonder it took him so long to connect the dots, but seeing you right now, the situation made more sense than anything else.

Oh gosh.

Leonardo

Leo had always had…certain tendencies.

In all fairness, he knew what he liked, and had known for a while, it wasn’t a secret either, it was right there, the closet was made of glass if there even was one.

And Leo was proud of how good he was at reading people, at figuring others out, what made them tick though he’d keep that information stored in until he needed it, act like he was blind to their weak spots, to their thought process, because that way they wouldn’t expect it.

So, realizing he had a huge crush on his best friend, oh boy, it wasn’t immediate, he didn’t actually know where it started, but one day you were just belting out songs for karaoke night and you looked so handsome all excited, singing to the top of your lungs alongside him unabashedly, his own voice stuck to the back of his throat.

Leo ended up coughing out his lungs after the shock of realization hit him mid-song, and you patting his back was just making everything more difficult while he tried to wave you off and say he was fine, rushing to put the next song in so you wouldn’t see the expression on his face.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, and in retrospect, it really wasn’t, he knew what he liked, he just hadn’t noticed you filled out all his checkmarks.

You didn’t seem to realize, but after that coughing fit the rest of the songs that played through the speakers for you both to sing seemed to all be love songs in some way or the other.

Leo took the chance to study you, to try to figure you out and it was jarring that at the moment he couldn’t, he wasn’t reading you like he usually could, but that was fine, he could figure it out later, right now he just wanted to enjoy the feeling of falling in love with the person who knows him better than anyone and stays.

Donatello

It started with him noticing he didn’t mind your touch.

There were moments in which he still just didn’t want to be touched at all, but more often than not he wouldn’t mind your touch at all, it was an exception he made in his mind, like when Mikey hugged him.

Besides, there was the fact that you were always conscious of his boundaries, asking or warning him before you would even touch him, sometimes he felt like just telling you to go ahead if you wanted instead of asking, but he held back from doing so as he wondered why he would even say that if it was logically just better that you asked beforehand.

He filed that information away in his brain, but sometimes it would pop up when you’d ask to touch him and suddenly your hands were on his forehead checking for fever or taking a hold of his to drag him somewhere or around him hugging him for just a second after a dangerous mission.

Just a bro hug, just a tug on his hand, just a concerned friend, so why, why did Donnie wish those hands lingered on him? Why did he wish for it to not be so friendly?

After much investigation and being hit with a ruler by Dr. Feelings, Donnie who had only had crushes on fictional female characters finally accepted realized he had more than platonic feelings for his best friend.

It’s not like he had never considered boys romantically he just hadn’t expected to be hit with this revelation with one of his closest friends, it was honestly terrifying, because if it had been a stranger he was attracted to or someone less close to him then coming to terms with the crush would have been easier, but because it was you his mind was rushing with various situations in which your relationship could be compromised should you not feel the same.

So, he reveled in your touch for the meantime, sometimes shuddering and your hands would fly away from him while apologies fell from your lips and Donnie would reassure you, telling you he wasn’t uncomfortable, that you could keep going.

And maybe he’d actually tell you now that you didn’t have to ask before touching him, make an exception with you, that would be enough for now.

Michelangelo

As in tune with his feelings as he was Mikey didn’t realize as fast as he could have because when you were around his mind would immediately focus on you, your needs, your wants, your feelings, and suddenly everyone else including himself fell to second place.

That in itself could have been a good indicator, but once again, he was focused on you, not him.

But his thoughts felt so frequently on you it was impossible not to realize that when he was preparing a meal or trying a new recipe he would think of your likes and dislikes when it came to food and consider them while cooking, even when you weren’t going to eat there, he’d prepare the food while thinking of you so that the next time you came and he prepared it he could make sure it’d be to your taste.

Donnie complained a couple of times about alternatives Mikey used in a recipe to fit your taste, which is when the situation suddenly came to Mikey’s brain.

He thought a bit about it, but let it be for the most part until he found another indicator of his situation while painting.

He’d wanted to draw his family and thought you would be a good starting point, but while he painted suddenly what he’d drawn wasn’t enough, so he tried again, and added more colors, and details, and your eyes weren’t quite right, so he kept going and going, he just had to get this right.

In the end, the family portrait turned into a portrait of a boy, Mikey kept staring at it, the cogs turning fast in his brain while he kept thinking about how truly handsome he thought you were and boom, it suddenly made sense.

Mikey smiled, just admiring his work while he wondered if handing the painting he had obviously put so much care and love into to you would be too bold of a move.

[pepperstrawberry]

Pepper Rant

I'm sorry. I hate being negative. I... I'm having a hard time right now. Its been building all week. (I tried to figure out how to put a 'cut/readmore', but it seems a lot has changed with formatting since I last created a full post of my own that required more then a few quick images and text)

I know I don't post much on here, or at least no where near my old consistancy... but I am pretty happy I still see some familiar names float across my dash.

Though, right now, it feels like... like I'm lost. Trying to figure out someone to commiserate with, but I kinda don't want to burden folks and I can't remember which of the discords I'm on have spots for political rambles.

Most of my biggest fears are probably going to be very obvious.

November 8 2016, I remember being in a discord chat at the time. All the mods were off for one reason or another. Some folks were freaking out. Some weren't. This was an LGBT focused discord, so the fact that some folks were thinking things would be fine was a bit concerning. I had to use my minis to drown folks out, reminding folks that the discord in question had a specific space for that sort of topic and the main channel we were in need to be a space for just breathing. It was... a rough night for everyone I think.

Over the course of the next year plus, I would often say things like 'this feels like the sort of thing you see in history books around mid 20s - early 30s of Gernany. I wasn't sure how much I was speaking in hyperbole and how much was 1000% serious, but I do know I was leaning toward the later.

Now... here we are, on the cusp of another election, the same bastard moving for power. And I honestly feel more then ever I was at least close to the reality. It wasn't 1 to 1, mind. but it was... familiar enough.

With already some extremely disturbing actions by the SCOTUS and the like mouths before the vote is upon us gives me some chilling fears.

The unparalleled power the position of President now has is... not something to take lightly. And this time, its not a bumbling idiot that is going to be lost at how the job even works.

mind you, he is still a fool. He is still the same self centered piece of garbage. But this time, he has a team behind him already setting a lot of very very disturbing things in motion.

The 'Immunity' decision has basically cemented a path to getting everything they want. Not a little, but a lot.

I don't have the mental strength or energy. All I can feel is a tingling fear in my nerves that is slowly building. A reality I want to wake up from.

And the worst of it is: even if the Biden wins, that is *at best* a holding pattern. That guy isn't much better. Maybe he turned around several things Trump did, but it hasn't really felt like we have moved forward to anything better.

Unless something is *somehow* done about the Immunity decision, among others, then we are just going to be facing this nightmare again in the next election.

Honestly, I am not liking how next year is looking in either case. I would move out of country, but I don't even know which place would be best to run to, nor am I in nearly as 'stable' financially as I was even just a year ago.

I'm sorry, I used to keep my politic stuff on a separate tumblr... but honestly, fuck that. Things are just too fucked. I don't know how to keep my thoughts separate anymore.

I know for many across the world, what I fear is already their reality. It makes this whole mess feel even worse. I know there is good in this world. Good people and good places... but I feel like everyone I know is so spread out. Even my closest friends (aside from a couple of family members and my girlfriend) are miles away at the least and states or even countries away at most. So even if I were to find a place to run to, its going to be... difficult.

No this isn't a plea for cash or anything. At least not yet. Just right now, I need to get it out of my system on some level. Even if it ends up as 'not as bad as I fear', the fact is, it is still going to be horrible for many of us. I thought that at least the Senate and SCOTUS would at least provide a *little* barrier to the plans of that bastard and his allies. But that barrier no longer exists. I don't know what is going to stand against him doing most of not all they are planning.

Tonight, as I right this, there are still fireworks popping off. A night that was supposed to celebrate independence from a King...

I fear next year, they will be celebrating a new king... and they may not even be simulated.

[maramontwrites]

Ducks

The first time I saw him, he asked me if I liked ducks. I don’t know why. I don’t even know why he started talking to me. We were just sitting next to each other on the bus, not talking, like people on the bus do, when he asked me.

“Do you like ducks?”

“What?” I responded, not entirely processing the question. At first I thought I must’ve misheard him. I couldn’t imagine a stranger asking me about my opinion on ducks.

“Do you like ducks?” he repeated, slowly this time. I still didn’t understand the question, but at least I knew I heard him right. “You know, those birds that hang out in parks and like to eat bread. Well, they shouldn’t eat bread, but they do like it. Those ducks. Do you like ‘em?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it”, I said. I expected that to be the end of the conversation, but he was insistent.

“Well, think about it now. There’s not really anything better to do on this bus.”

“I’m sure there are more important things for me to think about than ducks.” I thought that made it clear that I wasn’t interested in talking to him, or at least not talking about ducks. He was not good at taking hints.

“But you aren’t thinking about more important things. You are thinking about ducks now, aren’t you?” He smiles mischievously, now that I had fallen into his trap.

I will admit that I was, although I didn’t want to tell him that. So I didn’t respond, hoping that he would leave me alone.

“So, do you like ducks?” He was getting more insistent every time he asked that question, like it was really important for him to get my answer.

I gave in. “Yes, I do. I guess. There’s nothing really to dislike about ducks, so I suppose I like them.”

His face lit up. “Exactly! You get it! There’s no reason to not like ducks. They’re amazing! And cute. And fun to look at. And adorable. I really don’t understand how people can not like them. Some people are just too miserable to appreciate the little things, I guess.”

I let him ramble on, afraid that responding would encourage him to continue the conversation. The bus arrived at the next stop. He paused mid-sentence, jumped up and ran towards the doors. Before getting off, he looked back at me and waved. Out of reflex I waved back.

I thought that would’ve been the only time I saw him, but the next day, on the same bus, he sat next to me again.

“What about pigeons?” he asked, continuing the conversation like there wasn’t a full day between the last question and now.

“What about them?” I didn’t realize what the question was referring to. It even took me a while to realize that he was the same person I had been talking to the day before.

“Do you like pigeons?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I knew not to argue that time. “Not really. They’re a bit annoying, to be honest.”

“No, they’re not!” He immediately launched into another rant, this time about the importance of pigeons. I let him talk, until he had to cut himself of again to get of the bus. Before leaving, he did manage to convince me that pigeons weren’t as bad as I had thought.

I haven’t seen him in a few days now. I saw him every single day for multiple months in a row, always on the same bus, always asking my opinion on various animals or household objects or other seemingly meaningless things. I even started looking forward to our meetings, ready to have my opinion changed about something I didn’t even know I had an opinion on.

And now he’s gone. He didn’t tell me he wouldn’t come back the day before he disappeared. He just talked about some unimportant topic, as always. That day our discussion was about peanut butter. He didn’t give any indication that I wouldn’t be seeing him again. I want to believe that nothing bad happened. Maybe he bought a car and doesn’t have to take the bus anymore. Or maybe he just takes a different route now. There are many perfectly innocent explanations for this.

But I know that’s not the case. He would’ve told me. Something must be wrong. I only need to find out what. Not that that’s going to be easy. I don’t even know where he lives. I barely even know anything about him. I only know which birds he likes and dislikes. But even though it seems impossible, I’m determined.

I’m going to find him.

[bryastar]

word salad #4

happy twilight Thursday!

today is a work day and something I'm thinking about right now is, yes just because this may be a daily blog doesn't necessarily mean I need to go into full detail about how every part of my days go. otherwise I'd be ranting about work for a vast majority of these entires.

so instead I wanna talk about... retro 3D platformers

a while back I came across a game called Cavern of Dreams. it claims itself to be inspired by retro 3D platformers. it features low poly graphics and textures with simple lighting effects, reminiscent of late N64 games. the gameplay feels very much like if Conker's Bad fur day was lighthearted and wholesome. what's also neat is camera controls are more reminiscent of later games, Mario sunshine and Zelda wind waker immediately come to mind for me. I've gotten through the first part of the game and really loving it so far, and the controls are probably the best I've seen in a long time.

but while thinking about this, I sorta made a bit of a realization... growing up, games like this were referred to as adventure games instead of 3d platformers. heck, I don't think I've seen the term "platformer" until around the mid 2000s. even Mario games I think we're more well known as action adventure games, or Zelda games being a puzzle adventure. PC adventure games tend to be point and click games, which is vastly different than what consoles typically offered. I personally think that NSMB for the DS may be in part why we now make this distinction as the 2D Mario games play vastly different than their 3D games, notably being easier to pick up and play.

but while on this thought train, I sorta began to wonder what sort of similarities that 3D platformers from this era had vs a point and click adventure game. what I ended up deciding on was: exploration. point and click games, you topically make progress by exploring the world around you and finding clues and solving puzzles by exploring the environment and talking to npcs. 3d platformers is... actually kinda the same, while typically focusing on item collecting, many similar elements show up such as exploring worlds and finding ways to progress by interacting with the levels and different characters.

while on that thought about collecting items...

a lot of late 90s and early 2000s platformers would feature collecting a long list of items. one prominent example is donkey Kong 64, which tends to be known as the game that killed collectathons. I have some thoughts on but I'll save for another entry, but I guess I will say that calling such games a collectathon very much misses the point of what the game is actually about. is it a game where you are sent out into a level and made to collect all the random items scattered on the ground, or is it a game where you're friends have been captured and your hoard of bananas have been stolen and you must rescue your friends and recover your bananas in order to progress while learning new moves and meeting interesting creatures who either help you or try to intervene. I dunno about most, but I like the latter premise better. (or maybe I out much more weight on a storyline for a game as opposed to the gameplay)

I hope this entry wasn't too hard or confusing to read, I guess I'm mostly rambling and jotting down bits and pieces of what's in my mind when I get a couple minutes of free time.

uhm..

pineapples (I need a better way to end these aa)

[yolkchild]

The Eternal Novice, or Why I Love Eggs

A personal essay

Growing up, adults would always praise me for my intellect and artistic ability, whether they were looking at my rants on Coca-Cola being unhealthy or my first attempts at a Twilight Sparkle, things technically every other kid could do but somehow, I perceivedly had a more advanced perspective on these things. I didn't start worrying about grades until around high school. It's safe to say I had the gifted kid experience, but with the caveat that I narrowly dodged the workloads or routines that stretch you thin, those co-created by adults who act as if your capabilities are not only beyond others', they also extend to infinity. At least I avoided them early on: I had a stint like that in my mid-teens completely self-imposed, from years of thinking what everyone else thought about what I could do—and achieving it! I could go 9 hours straight at work or studies or other projects, but at the cost of suffocating my soul. I'm as much victim of grindsets and hustles as many others out there, and combined with my budding ego issues, it leads to quite the frustration when you realize you're not the hyperproductive hyperthoughtful machine you cracked up to be.

Anyway. There was no field of knowledge I found more than finite; everything had a beginner level, then an intermediate one, and then a master's that would every now and then push its ceiling to fit new discoveries. When you grind out books on algebra and geometry and calculus you get a very linear and causal-consequential sense of progress, same with physics or chemistry. You can tell how things flow into one another and it's all very logical, when you're done with the section that's another progress bar ticked, and look how much you've learned. Learning, then, is just a matter of knowing how these models and techniques relate to one another, and then you go up a level on the thousands of levels within this set of things that are True; the good news is that it's really all set in stone, it's just a matter of decrypting it for ourselves.

Here's what's not easy to measure or deduct: retention, applicability. Will I remember it exists when I need it, will I remember how to do this, how to make sure it's the right tool for the job? If you're an expert on matrices yet crumble at the first real-world personal situation that could use them, are you really an expert?

Much like the weightlifter who can only grip barbells and machine handles, I learned to learn rather inflexibly. My application of knowledge would depend on how familiar the context was, and oftentimes it had more to do about everything around the problem than the problem itself; tricks that wouldn't require thinking too hard or double-checking my conception of something. "I know the history teacher is an annoying center-leftist, so I only need to pick the most lefty-sounding answer on this test." What if there's some truth to this perspective on this historical event, or what if other perspectives corroborate an opposite point and if so what would that be, or what if I remember things all wrong or not at all and the lefty answer might not be the lefty answer I think it is? I'd never know, because as much as I liked a challenge, I'd only feel inferior if I entertained something so out of my element for too long or too hard. And what kind of smart and knowledgeable student questions themselves like this? Just know the right answer, and only the right answer, the objective one, it's that simple.

Here's something that is absolutely impossible to measure or deduct: Truth. The capital T Truth. How the cosmos objectively works, the realest of the realities, the only order. I sure knew early on that what they fed me at school wasn't all true, and many of the alternative study routes I'd gander at weren't all true either—but truth isn't quite the word here, more like incomplete or inobservable (if not hard to observe) or warped at the angle. To go back on the earlier example, Gramsci-influenced history was less valid in my eyes, and I thought I'd seek refuge in "truer" revisionist history or whatever else was bundled for radical extremist study. Needless to say, you kill a good portion of nuance when dividing something as complex as history into two polar opposite fields---biased retellings and totally unbiased truth. And this is true for everything, really. It's often more accurate to conceptualize things in spectrums and greyscales, with incountable facets, infinite points of perspective, all the way down and everywhere you look. Truth itself is the same way.

This doesn't come as intuitively when you perceive reality to be set in stone, just like how you yourself are set in stone; that under all the apparent humility you really are something Special and High-Value, just as gravity is ~9.8m/s² or as water's volume is that of its container. Surely, self-discovery is just a matter of decrypting the stone, and personal growth is polishing what's already there. But you know what they say about polished turds. At least most people around me tell me I'm no turd, so it must be true. Right? If I'm good by nature, I couldn't ever act otherwise, I couldn't ever prove them wrong, nor prove myself wrong, right?

One way to never grow is to avoid learning. Sometimes learning requires from you too much humility, because there might be more obstacles and failures on the way than you first expect, and if you find them hard, what does that say about you, as a smart and talented individual? Even worse, what if you end up at what's not the capital T Truth, when being smart and intelligent is so often about being able to find the Truth? That you were wrong, and you're not so smart after all, and so you lied, and this characteristic you attached so strongly to your self-identity barely even exists. And if you're not smart and talented, you're probably just a turd.

————

Religion is stupid, right? The only Truth to it is that no one seems to give a satisfactory proof as to why their system is the Truest one, or any form of reliable observation that couldn't immediately be described in secular terms. Visions, ghosts, demons, angels, people talking in your head, just psychosis. Good things happening to you are as much coincidence or environmental response as the bad things are. The good book doesn't even work as a historical account: the Israelites were just Canaanites in a new paint and they had to convince everyone else they were somehow different, and it's unclear whether they even suffered as slaves in Egypt, and there's no way Noah lived so absurdly long. As far as rationality goes, these just seem like feel-good mythologies to replace real understandings of nature, or tools for oppression and capitalizing on others' guilt, mass hysterias or delusions taken too far, maybe all of these at once.

So theology is entirely about things that ultimately don't matter, just like literary analysis. Sure, you might get the occasional good advice or some philosophical insight, but these are just stories and should be regarded as such, like Plato's cave or the myth of Sisyphus. Their valuable insight isn't inherent to any sort of spiritual authority, you could likely derive a lot of these ideas within a secular context or framework, so no need to be too harsh about it.

But even so, how can you tell how much your thought systems are based on secular, logical, objective and rational patterns? How can you tell that there's not the smallest hint of emotional exaggeration or irrational assumption gluing this thing together? If you could hunt and kill the illogical bugs in your thinking, would there really be an end to them? Would you really want to spend your life in constant scrutiny? And to what end? What has correctness and objectivism done for you, aside from giving you a perceived high ground? Are you making better decisions after all? Are you happy?

You might not be as mechanical as you think you are. But as above, so below, and you might find the universe isn't either. How is a reality legitimized, and to what extent are your senses truer than your neighbor's?

————

Eggs are delicious, with nutrient density in the same leagues as organ meats, yet in a much more compact and accessible form. Its fatty contents are admirable, full of essential—and rare, especially nowadays---micronutrients. Vitamins unique to fat-based foods, a wide array of minerals, cholesterols essential to blood functioning, they just taste like life, a pre-biotic. They also make for a highly versatile ingredient in both baking and savory cooking. Emulsifying creams and sauces, giving an aerated puff, binding and founding the strength of powders to liquids. Eggs can be fermented for bonus nutritional makeups, courtesy of microbes that came with your environment.

Eggs are also wonderfully diverse across different species—different regions, different cultures, different sizes. To match, humanity's reactions, perceptions and uses of eggs are diverse as well: some are allergic, some aren't too fond of the taste, others like it underfried and others like it hardboiled, some put it in sandwiches and others put it raw in smoothies. Mayo and Alfredo sauce share it as a basic ingredient, and people have different opinions or uses for each.

An eggshell is also an ideal canvas. Blue eggshells are beautiful, so are pasture brown and classic white, or the quail speckled. You can paint whatever you like onto an egg, and it'll be every bit as beautiful as you want it to be.

But not everyone thinks all these things or not at once, despite being common interpretations of an egg. An egg's value and meaning therefore live in the eye of the beholder.

————

So this capital T Truth may or may not be impossible to attain, and you're maybe a turd and you're maybe the intellectual they all took you for. How do you know yourself? What makes yourself, anyway? Is yourself your mind and thoughts or is it your soul, or is it the mouth that chews or is it the hands that write? Maybe you're the electromagnetic phenomenon, or the biochemical one, or the metaphysical one. Is a mirror a perfect copy of yourself? How can you look at yourself without inevitably warping yourself in the process, say, by extending your eyes such that they U-turn toward you? How to observe an inobservable object?

English Prime is not only a linguistic exercise, it's also an ontological one. If you remove verbs about being, how do you describe an object of observation?:

I find the name Yolk comfortable and symbolic enough for myself in this state. I often shy away from speaking my mind, as I fear others might mistake the ideas I play with to weigh more seriously than I believe them to. I watched Moral Orel last year, but its significance took a while to set in my heart—and thankfully so, because I don't think I had the conditions to grasp it at the time either. I like partaking in unseriousness because I already had my fill of serious, but not necessarily serious as in negative, moreso as attachment.

This is still a sorely incomplete description of myself, but I'd never truly do myself the justice, and I don't have to. It doesn't actually matter if I am a turd or if I am smart, because beyond being vague terms, they're not very measurable at all, especially if you attempt to do so in the realm of cultural agnosis.

Additionally, as with the continuous simultaneous processes of the weather or the cardiac pulse, it's all change and transformation, every instant. When I wake up in the morning I'll be(have) someone else, and descriptions I once thought accurate fade away. Whatever is consistent makes the mean average that you can more reliably describe and observe. The good news is, as a continuous process, yourself also has tremendous power for change of path, and therefore the power to change consistency and character. Just bear in mind, yourself holds a very complex and multi-faceted system; in purposeful change, the biggest challenge is in recognizing the relationships between factors and consequences.

————

There are just so many different points of theory in spiritual and religious matters, it's hard to find footing in these waters. Thousands of Protestant (or Protestant-leaning) denominations spawned after Luther, simply because many found themselves no longer beholden to a central authority for means of Correct interpretation and practice. And even before Luther, there's already so many denominations split from disagreements on so-called heresy or doctrine or practice, given the multiple Catholicisms and Orthodoxies. So many perspectives, so many arguments, so many regional, historical, political, economic and cultural backgrounds influencing them. Nevermind the ecumenical councils attempting union between them—how does one even try finding any truth, or worse, if they're still stuck on that folly, how does one find a Truth without sticking with pre-conceived notions?

You don't. Like with the self-identity and self-description. What is most consistent in your reality? What empowers you the most? If you wanted to play, how would you, and why not do it always? In the realm of the irrational and the metaphysical, what do your emotions and instincts crave? Why not try a bit of everything and see what sticks? When truth is what you can discern, why not do some housekeeping, decorate the place a bit?

You might find the philosophical insights you find in belief systems around the world have a lot more emotional impact if you open yourself to it. You might end up with a new formative experience that grows you into a more fulfilled, complete character in this cosmic play. But only if you let yourself drift along the streams, rather than drown swimming against them.

————

Across the world, there's a couple consistencies in how eggs are perceived and symbolized by humanity, beyond its obvious dietary aspect. Namely, as an essence of creation, a primordial source of the Cosmos, a rebirth and renewal, a stage in the cycle of life. You may be familiar with the Ourobouros, the snake that eats its tail in a constant cycle of life and death and rebirth; in this manner it is a sibling of the egg. This happens with the Hindus, the Egyptians, some Native American mythologies, and even Finnish folklore. In simpler abstractions of this, eggs can also symbolize fertility, creative and positive potential, good luck for the future.

Christians especially go hardcore on the eggs, and not just out of "pagan" syncretism. With God as the primordial source of the Cosmos, and with Jesus being the Son of God, and also God, and also the Son of Man; with Jesus' story bringing change and renewal to the Hebrew faith of His time; with the hopefully positive future of unity with Christ and God, His story is neatly enveloped and concise in the egg. It's no wonder that the eggs sustained even the commercial, secularized interpretations of Easter—Christ transforms the world as Spring transforms every year, and that's a powerful image.

————

Hopefully I can act as an eggshell canvas for others to springboard their own ideas, or just to provide some value of my own. I hope to humble and empty myself so as to stay open for new perspectives, new modes of being. And hopefully, by cultivating a continuous rebirth cycle of the self, I can be the yolkchild I aspire to keep being.

————————————————

Pysanky eggs taken from here.

[timefriend]

i think the desire to be conventionally beautiful in accordance with the standards for women is never going to leave me. i am afraid that maybe i will never get over it and that i will spend decades of my life clawing at the walls of my cell . often times i think to myself "i wish i were a woman" although i do identify as a cis woman myself and i think it might be because of how estranged i feel from other women who are conventionally attractive. it might be due to a skewed perception of the world from being chronically online but i really do feel like being beautiful is a requirement to be considered a woman. or, in order to be treated like a person as a woman you must be beautiful. being an """ugly"""" woman gets you treatment that is so drastically different from women who fit standards that it feels like a different gender entirely. and i think it goes back to how the core foundation of Woman as a gender is a role that exists to center + please men aesthetically and through service.

and i feel truly awful sometimes because i am so, so, So filled with envy that im surprised it doesn't leak out my throat and through my teeth as a thick, green and venomous ooze. i feel like this envy keeps me from becoming proper friends with other women in my life. the turmoil that writhes deep inside my chest keeps me from truly connecting with other women in that even while we hang out and have a laugh together, im thinking "you'll never understand" in the back of my mind. sometimes the turmoil is the only thing coursing under my skin ! i feel such visceral resentment that they'll never understand even if it's not their fault. i know we're not supposed to compare ourselves to one another but it's so insanely difficult to do that in a world that is very much dependent on comparisons. like holy FUCK if i could have pretty privilege. oh my god i'd be unstoppable.

below is eating disorder / internalized fatphobia territory SORRY

the desire is so strong that i'm constantly flirting with the idea of eating disorders. being chubby my entire life has only made me hate it i have never once felt appreciated for being chubby. even though my boyfriend has always complimented me on my figure and thinks im hot im always afraid that a skinnier girl will catch his attention. i seldom bring that up bc i don't want to seem insecure but like all i've ever known is that people would rather starve than look like me even if i do have some boobs and some ass. like i'm just MID . it's still so difficult to think that my boyfriend finds me attractive. around skinny friends i always feel like i could have one slip up and then i'll be the fat one (derogatory). like when im on someone's good side im "thick" or i look "womanly" but i constantly feel like that is so so conditional. i have so much internalized hatred towards my appearance that i don't know how to unpack. everyday i feel like i need to get skinny as soon as possible and it feels synonymous with becoming beautiful. like the train of thought that i go through daily is like "once i am skinny i will be undeniably and unambiguously beautiful and i'll finally be able to wear whatever i want without my stomach pouch bulging out or my armpit fat peeking out of my tank tops and without fear of ridicule and without fear of being treated as lesser . and i'll finally finally be a normal woman" i think maybe the fucking socializing worked and now i have this parasite of gender hegemony that lives in my frontal cortex.

Sorry rant over i wanted to post these thoughts somewhere but im very whiny in this . but i hope someone can maybe relate

[bookshelfdreams]

Im sorry about this i need to rant. I thought things were getting better but Izzy stan Twitter is at it again with their whining, truth bending and self-victimising.

'Do you like OMFD but wish the queer disabled hero didnt die?' IZZY IS NOT THE HERO OF THIS SHOW!!!!! He is at best a reformed antagonist. What an insult to the other disabled characters, and what about the actual heroes of the show??

'We've been betrayed by straight man writing queer stories'. First of all, way to dismiss the other writers. Also, its not his fault you project your personal traumas and mental health on a fictional character on a show with death in the title.

'GB's ending is comphet (?????) because 'we only need eachother' and theyre breaking away from their queer community' ED HAS BEEN WANTING TO LEAVE PIRACY SINCE LAST SEASON!!! also, its progress that Stede was able to resist basic flattery. And David made it clear that they still have work to do. This one truly broke my brain.

Im just sick of all this. Izzy stans have been coddled for the past week, being told its ok to grieve, but theyve crossed multiple lines. I do wish some things had been more explicit in this finale, only because David overestimated the maturity and media literacy of some people.

Sorry for this but i needed to talk to people here. Its beyond annoyance at this point. Im angry and sick of petty crybabies actively working to poison what we've built.

Don't apologize, feel free to rant at me any time!

"The Blackbonnet ending is comphet" surely is A Take, let me add that to the It's Only Queer If It's Subtext Collection, also featuring such gems as

The Lupete marriage proposal/wedding was basically straight

Canon queer ships are boring and unimportant

Izzy has the only queer arc

Izzy is the only "convincingly" queer character

It's super interesting to see this develop. The massive victim/persecution complex of a certain subset of Izzy fans. The vitriol leveled against all other fans, and the show itself, because clearly, these people never liked ofmd in the first place. Never liked what it actually had to say and instead, invented subtext that was never there to look into instead. It's like watching the birth of a conspiracy theory under controlled conditions in a petry dish. You will see these people say with their whole chest the most unhinged bullshit imaginable and receive praise for it, but when you keep in mind that for months, they have discussed the show Izzy in their insular little echo chambers, most of their takes become a lot more understandable. There's robust internal logic, even though, due to the flawed premise, none of it makes any sense.

But it becomes understandable when we loop back around to the point that a lot of these people don't engage with the show on its own merit. They really treat it as if it were just another queerbaity (maybe not even that) mid-2010s thing, too afraid to do something different.

ofmd is not that! But when all you have is a hammer. And when you're surrounded by people who keep insisting that yes, obviously that problem is a nail. That one too. Nails are all that exist. yk.

But. And please know that I am holding your hands and speak as gently as I can when I say this.

But please don't get angry about this? If this whole drama genuinely upsets you, you might need to take a step back and remind yourself that it's just fandom. It's just some idiots somewhere enjoying the pirate show wrong. It's not that important. There's plenty of things that are worth your anger in the world right now. Everything is fucked. But this isn't one of them.

Like, for me, this is fun. I am a petty bitch, I love to gawk at bad takes, I love conspiracy theories, reading things like this tickles my brain in the best possible way. It's like reading through the Psiram wiki (which is also something I do for fun. Yes, I am aware there's something wrong with me). It's even better, because it's inconsequential. It doesn't have very real human misery attached to it.

Like, obviously i think it's fine to be opinionated about dumb bullshit on the internet, and while picking fights with people who don't agree with me isn't something I enjoy personally, some people do and there's nothing wrong with that either. As long as everyone involved is having fun.

But. You gotta keep your distance, you know? Don't get personally mad at people with bad opinions. Having wrong opinions about the pirate show isn't actually harmful. Fandom isn't activism.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

So I'm aro and kinda ambivalent/slightly pos on sex stuff. So like from an aspec perspective on all your posts is very interesting to watch. Idk. I feel like people only use my identity to mask they still have growing to do and that sex isn't... Like, scary I guess? Its just a thing people do, Yk? Also that lots of different people have sex, conventionally unattractive people have sex, you don't need to "beautify" them. Adults have sex. These characters are all adults, by the end of the comics Scout is in his late 20s, like. I'm fairly certain these characters have had sex, and infantilizing characters like Scout, sometimes Engineer, or especially Pyro, whether they realize it or not, reflects on them and their feelings on how people "should act" and mental disorders. They can have sex! The sex can be weird! They are weird people! Like... They're adult men. They range from mid 20's to possibly their 50s-60's. Who are messed up a bit. I don't think they're timid little virgin babys who have never seen a genital or came in their life, like, be serious. I think it CAN be interesting to explore how someone in the 60's-70's would navigate asexuality in this scenario. Like, that can be an interesting take IF you put the actual thought, understanding, and nuances of being aspec. But like, it's always just like, filler sexuality here to be there cuz I don't have a strong grasp on the character. A pretty flag for the sake of having another flag. And because of that lack of character and world understanding they lean on stereotypes under the guise of progressive ideas.

Sorry about the all over the place rant, just been thinking about this kinda stuff every time I see ur posts.

Nooo don'tworry this is rlly nice to hear n a perspective I can't rlly give! Obviously I'm not aspec myself AHGKLAGA but I definitely don't like stuff like "well of COURSE Pyro is aroace bc they're baby uwu" it just doesn't sit right with me LMAO. None of this is to say that I think it's "wrong" to have ace Pyro or ace Sniper or ace whoever headcanons, of course I don't think that. I especially think it's really nice when someone sees themself in a videogame man, regardless of what their identity is. I just think yknow, stuff like "this guy has Brain Problems (Sniper has social problems, Pyro has delusions, Scout has a disorder I'm calling 'being in his 20s') and therefore does not have sex" or in Pyro's case especially "cannot even UNDERSTAND sex" is kinda just harmful and offensive across the board, to mentally ill people and aspec people alike. I'm always reminded of that ask I got like "if autistic people can't handle bright lights how are they supposed to handle sex" bc like 1) plenty of autistic people are perfectly Fucking capable of understanding, having, and enjoying sex and 2) ace people aren't ace bc they "can't handle" or "don't understand" sex LMAO. Sex is a thing some people have, and a thing some people don't, and like either of those things are good and okay and fine. Idk there's just a veeeery wide societal problem of really infantilizing both asexual people and disabled people that I think extends far beyond "fandom" or whatever, it's rlly deeply ingrained so a lot of people aren't aware of how they perpetrate it. Basically I just don't think an ace or aro headcanon should surround "X character is just completely incapable of understanding and/or consenting to sex or romance" ESPECIALLY if that character is disabled (like Pyro tf2, or even to a smaller degree like Sniper tf2 if the person doing it hcs him as autistic or whatever). If u want someone to be ace they can just be ace! It doesn't need like a "shy baby uwu" reasoning behind it