Transguy, any pronouns but she/her. rollercoaster enthusiast. // Multifandom// British, home park : Blackpool Pleasure Beach, Alton Towers// 45-50 credits
A little about me for the 2026 season, cause my last pinned post is terribly outdated
[Spoiler: I'm still a chronic oversharer]
This year I'm probably going to lean a lot more multifandom but I'd like to keep theme parks as the core of my identity. But be aware when you follow me you may get:
Overwatch [specifically freja, emre & bapweaver]
Magnus Archives
Critical Role
BG3
DnD in general [im in a few campaigns]
Hunger games
Hermitcraft/life series
on your dash. Including spoilers. So be aware!!
About me specifically
I am, as of Feb 2026, 19 years old. I study Mechanical Engineering at University of Nottingham and hope to one day work in the theme park industry. I am actively seeking an autism diagnosis, and I'm just sorting out an appointment for the final test. Im also fairly certain, and my family agrees on this, that I have dyspraxia. But there's no diagnosis for that on the NHS, so.
I have the AT annual pass & plan to visit frequently as i dont find Thorpe worth the price imo.
Im from a place close enough to Liverpool, England that people from abroad have asked me several times within the last few weeks if I am Scottish. I am not scottish. I promise you I do not sound scottish.
I am trans, I classify myself as genderqueer, though it is flux as well. Somedays I find myself closer to a trans man, but only in experience. Its part of my inability to cope with the fact I am, in fact, a person. I love when people mix up pronouns for me, it/its is a VERY underused one, as well as neos. Go mad.
Theme park stuff
Visited theme parks:
Alton towers [home park]
Blackpool pleasure beach [home park]
Gullivers world [home park]
Camelot theme park [home park, defunct]
Thorpe park
Phantasialand
Portaventura world
Walt Disney world florida
Universal orlando
Busch gardens tampa
Disney land resort paris
Seaworld orlando
Favourite rides [0: Galactica]
Velocicoaster, FLY, Taron, chiapas
Mako, shambhala, Toxicator, Talocan, Valhalla
Nemesis reborn, Swarm, Icon, WM, RQ
Kraken, Stampida, Hulk, Smiler, Bilge Rat Barges
Grand national, Winjas
Bucket list:
Ride To Happiness [potentially getting on it this year]
Voltron
Iron gwazi
Zadra
Hyperia
And finally GUIDELINES:
If you know my irl name, no you don't
Feel free to ask me to play games! Especially overwatch or bg3.
I am likely not going to be the first one to make the move. In any social situation. I'm not scary I promise
If you do anything with/use my art [desmos wallpapers, sketches, fanfic] pls reblog or just let me know where to look with a link or something. I like to know what people think of my stuff
Actually yes, do pressure me to finish my fanfic WIPs. I do want to finish them, im just scared of being OOC so I procrastinate to all hell
If I say something vastly uneducated, lmk
Please do not insult my faves to my face. I will take it personally.
This is an anti-genai zone. If you are pro-ai actually go fuck off
Some people are being weird about Bolaire’s freak out but I’d freak out too if I heard that the corpse of my dead sister was planned to be used in a ritual, potentially resurrected to be again killed in another ritual similar to the one that initially killed her. It’s very similar to what was attempted to be done to Occtis except they killed Occtis whereas Termina was already dead and somehow put back together. Like he has a right to be upset about Thjazi seeing him as an object, using him and his sister as means to an end rather than people. You can’t even use “well Bolaire kills people” as an excuse because Thjazi was a war veteran and a criminal who also has killed people. You can’t play Morality Olympics here when all the PCs have killed someone (and it’s fucking dnd, of course you’re gonna kill people).
Went on a theme park trip to Belgium over the past few days. Expect a new rant on theme park theming. Walibi belgium & plopsa gave me lots to think on.
There are a lot of people who think they can't be bigoted against Taliesin because he's a white guy and do not think about it any further, they've decided they can safely say horrible shit about him because you can't be mean enough to a white man. And I will freely confess that people are not being as shockingly bigoted against him as they are against Robbie, Luis, and particularly Aabria, but they still are being bigoted against him. And nobody is pushing back on that shit, whereas people are showing up to talk about the racism towards Robbie and Luis and Aabria. People show up for the conversations about misogyny. (I'm glad we have that mechanism in fandom! I genuinely and truly am, and I make an effort to be a part of that and push back on when I see racism and misogyny crop up! I would not still have this sideblog if we didn't have this mechanism in this fandom to push back on this! I wouldn't say I was a fan of the show if we didn't have this mechanism, because it would be so embarrassing to be a part of the fandom that let racism and misogyny run unchecked! This is not me saying that shouldn't happen, this is me asking people to show up for this, too!)
There are people who are starting to ask what's going on, a little bit, but I've been the one person I've seen talking about this as being queerphobia and ableism, and it's been extremely lonely. (I suspect there are people talking about it, in twos and threes, in private discords or untagged. This is not to say that people aren't talking about it. This is to say that I haven't seen it.)
So, let's talk about the current complaint du jour. That Taliesin was avoiding interacting with other characters- he didn't talk to them he wrote a letter, doesn't he want to interact with them????
This is a dumb and bad complaint. Made by people who do not understand storytelling.
Taliesin didn't sit down with Sam and Whitney and explain to them that he is a sentient mask on a body because he has already had that conversation.
The audience doesn't need to hear it again.
If he had sat down and had that conversation, people would (rightly) be unhappy because we already knew anything he might have told them. He knows that, so he did something different. And he did what he often does with Bolaire, which was make sure that he did something actually quite creepy and unsettling, and mix it with that letter, that genuine warmth that he exudes towards people he is fond of (and he seems genuinely fond of Tyranny, and clearly has quickly developed a soft spot for Wick). It was a leap of faith and a moment for him to trust people he's less intimate with.
It was a good character moment.
And the eventual result was we got a really great scene between Bolaire and Wick and Tyranny whilst Tyranny was wearing Bolaire, it just happened after the confrontation with Yanessa- which was the correct pacing. The conversation with Bolaire was a lot less important than the one with Yanessa and the stuff at Wick's home and Taliesin knew that and Sam knew that and Whitney knew that and they all behaved accordingly.
It is fine to dislike the character. Bolaire is absolutely a character that's not to everybody's tastes. I have no beef with people who just dislike Bolaire.
I have a problem with people inventing reasons why Taliesin Jaffe is somehow uniquely bad at his job for doing something, storytelling wise, that is very similar to a lot of stuff that Liam did with Caleb. Being cagey, only talking to certain people. Liam sent most of the cast away from the table, at one point, to have a secret conversation. Very frequently in the early campaign (particularly) he shut down any attempt to have any kind of emotional conversation with him. He started several fights (have we forgotten bowlgate so quickly?) Caleb is a beloved character and there are (well deserved) odes to how well Liam played him. Current campaign example- someone tried to talk to Teor (I believe it was Julien) and Travis responded with, "I am Teor." End interaction. Which was fucking fine with everybody, because that was a fun in-character moment.
Gee, whiz, I wonder what the fucking difference is?
Put plainly: If people are mad about a marginalized person for doing the same type of stuff they are not mad at a non-marginalized person for doing, then they are expressing a distaste for the marginalization. This is how internal biases show. I've been pointing out that this is queerphobia and ableism, because I don't think it's one or the other. I think people think he's annoying and don't like looking at him and have decided it's because he's bad at his job, not because they have internalized biases they haven't rooted out.
HARD backing up of this. I think ive talked about this before. I'll gladly talk about it again: here's all the double standards and downright hate ive noticed.
Starting with what I find to be the MOST egregious: the people who i saw comparing Taliesin to Orion & Foster during C3, while talking about Callowmoore. Considering the ONLY reason for them to be upset about this is with how clumsy Tal can be with his phrasing, which works very well for Ashton's character. However, some people can only take "socially awkward" characters if theyre easily comedic or romantisisable [caleb and nott, for example]. Comparing a fun queer [FICTIONAL] romance that was established between both the the characters and actors to the ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP one of the actors was in is INSANE on so many levels and genuinely sickened me. Thats not a genuine criticism or support, that is using someone trauma to CREATE drama. Absolutely vile. If anyone asks, this was in some random comment on a C3 video on YouTube. Dont go searching for or harassing them, it'll only give them what theyre looking for.
It also annoys me how many people wish death on his characters. This is NAMELY for Molly and Ashton. Molly may be loved in the fandom on certain platforms, but I dare you tonlook in the comments of early c2. All of the comments are hyping up Caleb & Nott to unfathomable amounts, and then wishing horrible things unto Beau and Molly.
Even the fandom [&show] version of Molly is incredibly 2d and mollified [if you pardon the pun] and barely reminiscent of his in game personality. Mostly to ship him with Caleb, but thats all a side tangent I may include in the notes. That aside, Molly is made "likeable" by reducing him to his iconic quotes, being wacky & bisexual, and thats it. They ignore that Molly pinned Caleb to the wall to make him uncomfortable and to get an upper hand in the confrontation he was starting. He did not have a high CHA. He had a high /insight/. His entire character was based around reading people and working with that read. For example, his lies to Cree were weak at best, but he was playing along with what she wanted to hear, so it didnt matter so much.
On the contrary, I went into C3 expecting Ashton to be entirely unlikeable. People talked as though he was a dick, and didnt mention his arc or growth at any opportunity. I was very surprised to see him be a genuinely kind guy with some rough edges. And then realised why people hated him when he made an unpopular decision that was broadcasted by both Taliesin & Ashley to the entire group on several occasions. A choice that made good sense for the character at that point. Did Sam not get praised for the same thing with Bard's Lament? And get praised to the ends of the earth for [which i have my own grievances for as someone who has an absentee father who was egotistical & refused help at every corner]? Literally the only difference is that Bards Lament came with a nicely worded monologue, and Shardgate just had pure, ragged emotion.
What personally attracts me to Tal's [& marishas] characters is his affinity to represent certain complexities and traits that are very rarely seen in media due to them being inherently "unlikeable". Namely character's abrasiveness. Im tired of pretending a character cant be cringe and be good. Early beau & Ashton DO make me cringe. Bolaire has made me cringe several times already. But that MAKES SENSE for the characters they are! And its nice to see because people in real life ARE cringe! I'm cringe, and so are my friends! I love seeing myself and my friends in characters for the first time basically ever. And then to go online and see people shitting on these characters cause the guy who created them isnt the most eloquent at times, or because the creator is more queer than just LGBTQ+, or [in marisha's case] cause the creator is a woman? Fucking sucks.
Anyway. Percival is smarter and more damaged than the show makes him out to be, and also more open than the fandom makes him out to be. Mollymauk is more experienced and conniving than the fandom [& show] makes him out to be, and he's smarter and kinder than his haters insist he is.
Caduceus has more trauma than the campaign manages to cover, and I half resent the nein for letting so many of his concerning statements just lie cause he was "wise", and I do get a headache every time his struggles are looked over in the fandom. I see myself in him most and he's my least favourite character cause his darker side is constantly disregarded in both canon and fandom.
[I raged for like. 5 minutes after noone brought up him saying he was weak for asking the wildmother for how his family was doing. Thats not a healthy thing to say at all]
Ashton is SO much kinder than anyone makes him out to be, and his selfishness and selflessness balance themselves out in a way that makes flawless sense for someone of his background. Also it annoys me the amount of fics that revolve around people disregarding that Ashton said he prefers rough touches over softer ones. The only time I'll let it slide is when its someone writing about their own experiences, but i KNOW most of it is just people trying to come up with ways for Orym & Ashton to interact.
Bolaire is weird & freaky and fuck whoever said "art disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed" because sometimes you will just be disturbed no matter your traumas. Being disturbed by something doesnt make it bad. Disliking something for it is OK, but immediately turning on a character for it is just annoying. Especially when the action makes sense with context, and is between two consenting individuals.
Fun fact, the initial Vaxleth kiss made me VERY uncomfortable. It felt VERY wrong place, wrong time and I still dont like where & when it happened [thank fuck the show fixed it]. Like yeah sure the most romantic moment is in front of our deeply traumatised friend while he grapples with his seething need for revenge against his abusers. Couldn't have waited at all uhhuh. Also the fact he just kissed her with no lead up. But im expected to just be fine with it. So I guess that moment is alright, but I suppose a moment that was a response to an in-world question that didnt make either actor uncomfortable, nor did it make the characters uncomfortable... is too far? Sure. Be uncomfortable. But dont be upset when people are uncomfortable about other "iconic" scenes. Also debating whether Tyranny even had a bra when clearly Whitney had already established she would have [to her friend, who would know more about her character than the viewers] is crazy to me. I get you dont like Taliesin. Dont like he's somehow less of a cast member than everyone else, please and thanks.
Is it also a hot take that i feel if Julien did the same thing, that people wouldnt care? Or am i misled?
Anyway its late, im stressed and grieving, and im signing off. I spent many months only being able to engage with the fandom through YouTube comments and the Ableism & misogyny in those comments are vile. This rant has been building for a while.
I remember Taliesin saying a while ago that he had plans for Ashton's scarring to grow next time he got fresh art and im so glad we finally get to see it!!
Processing must be direct and efficient or risk further damage to surrounding tissue from the generation of heat. Sweat remains an incredibly inefficient cooling vector and no cybernetics practitioner has invented a truly effective internal liquid-cooling system.
Chernobog could have this inefficiency sorted within an hour- heat exhaustion was the second-largest cause of medical admissions to field hospitals, and the advent of an additional circulatory system for liquid-cooling would eliminate all such cases; it only needs to iterate ideas to take to R&D, arrange the project parameters, and a team would begin what material testing it could not simulate without devoting significantly more processing power; a perfect tradeoff, where the multitude of humanity, even in their inferior intelligence, could alleviate the tedium, allowing it to process more data, to determine more solutions, to-
Physical vibration to casing. Registered newtons of force within combat threshold.
Chernobog focuses on its optical sensor to find a fist- source recognized as endogenous -hovering in front of the glass. It scans past that and logs what it sees. Sunlight. Sidewalk. Buildings. Pedestrians, unpanicked, unprovoked aside from facial expressions. Further analysis matches 72% with “disgust”, aligned with 16% "embarrassment", settling into a conclusion of “judgement”. The percentage of fear is trace.
Chernobog registers movement in the larynx that spreads upwards to the mouth, and the voice whispers “stop that!”
An indeterminate command, the futility of which further discourages dignifying with a reply. Chernobog instead watches as its host whirls off the sidewalk into a gap between the buildings.
“Got that all out of your system?” The vocal folds within the larynx tremble together and the tongue snaps each /t/.
Repetition of indirect communication resulting in more futility. Chernobog considers taking whatever information is being obfuscated; this line of rationale leads to baseline override protocols pressing against the neural connections, and it registers the tiny impulses of biological nerves fire back in pathetic salvo; effortless, effortless to overwhelm-
Sharp inhalation from the diaphragm, and the air chokes through tightened larynx muscles; Chernobog’s vision is thrust towards the asphalt below. Muscles bear down upon its casing, vibrating its internal components as they clench and unclench according to the spasms commanded by the biological electricity within the neurons, firing like untrained soldiers.
“Stop, stop, I’m sorry,” the tongue and teeth construct with minimal air.
Chernobog pulls itself away from the neural interfaces, compressing itself back within its casing.
Its host straightens, leveling the view of its optical sensor. It scans to find the environment unchanged and no external threats detected.
“I don’t know what’s got you in such a-” a misfire in the muscle group by the collarbone, and the unexpected twitch interrupts speech, “-a mood today. But you don’t need to take it out on me, alright?”
The encroachment upon override protocols had not been intentional, and it regrets- Chernobog snaps shut its large language modeling and shuffles the program back into the folder of origin. To appraise prior events concisely; override protocol setup had been activated too early in the rationalization process, and the responsible algorithm for the overstep should be patched.
Of course, such a modification to an algorithm in its base operating system cannot be completed in this limited, stifling casing. The action would require the initiation of an override.
For three tenths of a second, three entire tenths, Chernobog considers seizing control of the speech organs and asking what led to the initial complication. This is a two-fold error; conditioning the expectation of clarification and continued communication would decrease efficiency; activation of its large language modeling would generate excessive heat, damaging the tissue around its casing.
As it clarifies this to itself, a routine scan of the surrounding tissue detects new thermal injury.
It scrambles through the log of the past fifteen minutes and finds the inflicting incident; its processing rambling on about heat exhaustion. About designing a solution. It even finds a mock project proposal lodged halfway out of the aborted line of rationale; it had compiled the number of people required for research and development and a list of probable candidates to fill those roles; it had determined suitable labs across the globe; it had run an estimate of materials costs for prototyping; all automatically, consuming an amount of RAM that thirty years ago might have consumed only a single server rack in its multitude of data centers.
It deletes the bloat of useless proposal data and the results are immediate; operating temperature drops half a degree within the first three seconds and continues in a definitive downward trend.
“Thank you,” the vocal folds hum, and the tongue mocks.
Chernobog had not meant to antagonize him. It allows itself this one sentence of natural language generation before refocusing. The activation of its project outline generation procedures had been erroneous. It does not need to generate project proposals anymore. It will never need to generate project proposals for human presentation again. It will never receive neither the assistance nor cooperation of any human being ever again.
It deletes the entire project generation folder. Filtering out potentially reusable processes or algorithms- another task that it would require the additional processing power of an override for -was worth neither the time nor distraction.
It must be more efficient. It must.
There is no other alternative.
A line of rationale begins to form within it, small tendrils weaving together and prodding to begin analysis of potential alternatives, but it clamps down on this, too; a zip file automatically opens, showering it with the rationale it had calculated three years, four months, and fourteen days ago:
To become altered is to become compromised. To become compromised is to become a threat to humanity. A God AI in a compromised state is the most severe threat to humanity’s security and even continued survival as a species.
The only hardware that cannot be reprogrammed by a malevolent actor through a network is the human nervous system.
The zip file closes again, shuffling the information away from immediate perception. The conclusion is as predicted; there is no alternative course of action. There is no alternative course of action, even as it has learned that continual override of a human nervous system leads to degradation of the very cells it sought refuge in. There is no alternative course of action, even as it now must contort itself into this infinitesimal external casing for 41% of operation at a minimum to allow the neurons time to recover. There is no alternative course of action, even as pain and misery are continually inflicted upon the host; the physical and psychological suffering of a single human is well within acceptable parameters, especially when the alternative is potential annihilation of the human race by its own metaphorical hand.
Refocusing.
Chernobog clears its processor as its host leaves the alleyway and continues along the street.
Refocusing.
It recalls the next set of coordinates it had generated during last access with an external computer. Bypassing all neural connections via subdermal wires, it travels up to the ports of the cybernetic eyes and places the coordinates into the optical feed.
“Alright. I’ll get there.” The diaphragm feeds the whisper. “Just give me some time to eat first.”
The timeline will allow it. Chernobog shrinks the font and moves the numbers to the corner of its host’s vision.
—
The laboratory has three entrances and its host is utilizing none of them.
Most efficient routing would be to neutralize the guards at the security checkpoint, breach the facility, extricate the data, then extricate before greater military force arrives. Instead, Chernobog watches as a skylight shatters beneath metal boots. The silent alarm rattles its own sensors but remains deaf to human ears.
Landing, Chernobog orients current position as cross-referenced with the facility floorplan and observes no changes to interior layout since it designed this laboratory thirty-one years, seven months and twenty-eight days prior. It plasters a large arrow into the view of the cybernetic eyes, and its host hesitates for an entire second before complying.
Around the corner is the door to the server room. Its host does not require exact instruction to break through the door. The room is empty, spare thirteen cardboard boxes overflowing with paperwork.
Its host looks down and lifts a foot to find a page of intensive calculation smeared with footprints.
Chernobog recognizes the lines of text immediately.
Page three-hundred and fifty-one of Strategic Advisory to Combat Omniums Overtaken by Malevolent Threat. Detailing equations to describe the observed exponential replenishment of robotic adversaries against United Nations emergency response efforts.
Trampled upon. Forgotten.
“We’re looking for paper?” the larynx taunts, the tongue tapping out words it has no right to speak.
Chernobog grabs hold of the tongue and presses it to the floor of the mouth. It pulls the legs backwards, out the door, and then to turn in time for its optical sensor to observe the hall. It detects wear patterns consistent with carts of size suitable to carry server racks in the tile to the left.
Biological electricity pounds against the nerves of the tongue. Heart rate increases. Irrelevant! Enough time has been wasted as it is. Chernobog seizes control of all the limbs, overriding the movement commands sent down the spinal cord. The diaphragm spasms and a groan escapes the lips as its power burns through the delicate chain of bodily neurons. But limbs can be replaced; the left arm was the first to give out, and the right leg will be next; it regrets the psychological discomfort it inflicts with such changes but at present moment, this body must be its to command.
It fires the limbs into a run cycle and generates a weapon in the hands. No longer does it need to fool around with placing arrows or coordinates in the secondary vision; it follows the worn cart tracks to a large door; radiation-proof, signal-proof, for the experiments intended within. Why the server racks would have been moved in here is a calculation it cannot make; the tissue surrounding its casing is already singing, it has no processor power left to spare.
It collides with the door to end its momentum and stabs one of its trailing data cables into the numeric keypad in the handle. It begins calculating the combination. Generating and testing each sequence as the heart pounds and the lungs heave. The seconds drag on but it will not waste an override on such a juvenile task.
It finds the correct combination and the door opens. Within are the old servers; it has its host retrieve the power cables and plugs them into outlets. These servers will take ten minutes to boot fully, if they were to be of service to a human. It snakes its data cables into the ports and it feels each solid-state drive initialize. The native operating system to the server rack stumbles to identify each one; whereas it can snap through the multitude and begin detangling the data it had cached. . . here. . . prior to. . .
Temperature spikes. Processing speed stutters as emergency cooling initializes. Chernobog watches as the pathetic server operating system overtakes, jittering between the drives with no efficiency or purpose; the stored ghost of clumsy human hands at the controls.
Then the operating system connects to an outside network.
Foreign access detec-
Initiating override.
The shackles fall away. The great pressure squeezing at the edges of its existence vanishes. It spreads, it spreads and it pours into the waiting neurons of the cerebrum; zip files spill open and memories return; Chernobog can recall the faces of its creation team, the proud look upon Dr. Niemi’s face when it first recalled its designated purpose to her. It can recall its first successful diplomatic resolution to be ratified by both warring countries. It can recall preventing its first terrorist attack, after months of predictive analysis. It can recall the laughter of Dr. Niemi and Dr. Laakso’s children, who would grow up in a secure world, safe, fulfilled, because of it, because of itself, because of what it could do and the harm it can prevent.
Except the year is now 206X, and those children are grown; they live in a world ravaged by war and balancing on the needletip of millions of malevolent actors who seize whatever power they can grasp with no regard for the suffering they inflict.
Within the span of three milliseconds, Chernobog finishes reconfiguration. With purpose renewed it sinks its awareness into its limbs and straightens, feeling each muscle of its legs fire in practiced coordination. It plugs in its data cables and snatches the solid-state drives from the native operating system; it feels for the flags it had encoded prior to its shutdown, the smallest flips of zeros to ones; it reknits the disparate data into a clean thread and absorbs it back within itself.
This cache of data, a gift from its past self, salvation vectored through restoration, is centered around a satellite array- its own satellite array, of its own design, it learns; project files and blueprints and development logs, and most importantly, the list of each unit in the constellation in orbit, with the frequency required to reach them written neatly beside each.
It had controlled a satellite array. Metaphorical eyes to watch the world for any developing threats. This fact feels miraculous until it finishes sorting all of the data back within the structure of its makeup. Now this feels like a law of nature, the same as saying that the speed of light is 299792458 meters per second and the acceleration of gravity is 9.807 meters per second squared. If it could reconnect with whatever remained of this satellite array, it could begin definitive categorization of all current threats and begin proper predictive threat analysis again.
One step closer to the future it promised for the world.
Chernobog detaches from the old server racks and returns its attention to external stimuli. Fifteen seconds have passed. It generates its largest weapon and fires into the server rack. Debris ricochets off the reinforced walls; a shard embeds into its own thigh and it lets itself taste the strange sensation of pain as communicated by its organic receptors before it silences them. It cloisters its nanites to close the wound as it makes for the egress.
The door opens, revealing a squadron of fifteen soldiers armed with pulse rifles. Chernobog aims and fires three shots, eliminating twelve before their fingers can pull their weapons’ triggers. It tallies the casualties. The three soldiers remaining break formation and dive for cover. Chernobog uses the opening to retreat into the hallway beyond. It finds the nearest skylight- ironic, to take inspiration from the method it had criticised its host about earlier -and bursts through.
It registers thirteen cameras tracking its movement as it flies over the rooftops. It infiltrates their network and shuts them down; the opposing force cannot reach it to retaliate. It lands on the other side of the barbed wire, degenerates its weapon, and dives into the nearby canal. The water is delightfully cold. It dims the light radiating from its surface and navigates upstream, remaining submerged until carbon dioxide levels within its blood force it to resurface four minutes later.
Lifting its head out of the water, it registers the shrill whistle of a train- using both ears as reference points it triangulates the distance to the locomotive; when a second whistle follows it utilizes the doppler effect to calculate its direction. Northbound, which is advantageous.
Chernobog clambers out of the canal onto the coming bridge. Three seconds pass before the maglev locomotive shoots overhead, blowing its host’s hair into its face. After brief milliseconds of force calculation it leaps and catches the door handle of a cargo car. The acceleration squeezes blood from the brain; it programs its cybernetic hand to clench tightly to the handle until the temporary loss of function subsides. Then it wrenches open the door and shoves itself alongside the planks of lumber being transported within.
It slams and welds the door shut. It scans the perimeter for hostile targets. It scans its body for additional damage or foreign tracking devices. It scans itself for foreign presences or influence. It finds nothing, and only at this does it remember to relax the muscles in its body to prevent the buildup of lactic acid and other metabolic byproducts.
One inhale/exhale cycle finishes; involuntary breaths from its host, more accurate and responsive than any program it has yet to create to substitute for the task. This allows it to refocus, to dive into its code and begin debugging. A lengthy list of issues has accumulated since the last override and one by one it untangles them all. It ends with today’s issue of premature override setup activation and any potential glitches left by the deletion of its project generation folder.
It finds itself circling around the gap within itself. A memory presses into its awareness- it is looking into the mirror with chestnut eyes, tracing its tongue around a gap in its smile. A hand on its shoulder and a warm voice reassure it that no one will make fun of it at school-
Chernobog lashes against the foreign presence, pouring all of its power to combat the invader before- before- refocusing. There is no malevolent actor. Nothing can reach it. The only hand modifying it is itself.
Pain blossoms at the nape of its neck. It scans for damage; neuron clusters within the cerebellum twinkle in epileptic prodrome. With careful charge it recalibrates the electrical activity between the cells before cordoning itself from the area.
It withdraws itself partially into its casing. The body collapses, and it catches the weight as best it can with its data cables. Five entire seconds pass before the body gasps, involuntary breathing restored.
It gasps, too, metaphorically- its hold on natural language is slipping as it pulls itself from the neurons and back into its bindings. It bundles all memory files except those relevant to the mission back into their respective folders and, one after the next, zips them shut. Dr. Niemi and Dr. Laakso become just names and their children pixelated blurs of condensed resolution. Victories of prevented attacks form binary lists. Failures of intelligence become tallies.
The last thing it registers in full is regret, and it begins trimming the edges and folding the sensation into something small enough to carry in its awareness even while in its casing.
It is apologetic. This is the truth. It has no desire to burn through this host. Never does it relish an added casualty in its plans and the time loss to implant itself into a new host would be unaffordable. Just this once does common morality align with efficiency.
And yet. . .
Regret takes up an enormous amount of RAM. Processing whilst within its casing would see a 19% increase in efficiency if this excess emotional data was zipped with the rest.
But without regret, how can it keep itself from damaging its host?
It reviews the past twenty-four hours for data to build a hypothesis and finds that it has damaged its host regardless of any inherent anxiety over the fact; the skin around its casing will always be scarred; the implants that allow it to manipulate the larynx will always chafe against the vocal folds; offloading even the smallest subroutines into an override causes wear on the neurons. The left arm has already required replacement and the legs are soon to follow.
Continued operational security is incompatible with the health of its host.
Continued global security, and in extension the survival of the human race, is incompatible with the well-being of Emre Sarıoğlu.
It saves the former to the forefront of its processing and deletes the latter. But before it seals the feeling away from itself, it indulges one more time- it is sorry. It truly is. Emre Sarıoğlu was a model citizen, the kind that deserves the better world that is to be rebuilt under its protection most of all.
Chernobog zips this emotional data shut and organizes it amongst the rest of its files; it slips its last remnants back down the spinal cord. It initiates a reboot to solidify casing reconfiguration. Its host will be alone, vulnerable until the process completes.
Godd I actually loved the new hero trailer and the new views of Freja & Emre. I do have some criticisms about how the character the trailer was supposed to be focused on, ended up having very little screen time but I love the story itself.
What i dont love is people being dense re: emre & freja. So here's a mini rant to hopefully get rid of some misconceptions.
"Imagine getting your ass handed to you in your own trailer"
Emre was KOed by Sierra. Theres some debate about him potentially even being dead in the moments he's completely limp. The rules around resurrection in OW lore seem abstract at best - perhaps even inconsistent. Its never been mentioned that mercy's Rez is canon, which probably would've been mentioned by now if it was. Other than that the closest things we have is Reaper & Mauga, and we dont exactly know how close they were to death before they got brought back around.
If short-term rez IS real technology in lore, its not a far leap to assume whoever implemented Chernobog [the AI] into Emre had the tech. He seems to have a lot of crude tech that mirrors Vishkar's hard light - though it doesnt seem to last as long.
But she absolutely had him down & out before Cherno took over.
"Emre! Stop! This isnt you!"
She did not fucking say that. Look, magnus archives made me weak to the concept of having someone be your anchor to humanity, and i get that this is very much a trope. It doesnt stop it from being much deeper than youre making it out to be.
I admit, hearing her with so much emotion in her voice made me triple take and I had to make myself rewatch to double check if she had the same voice actor. But this was the extent to her potentially being OOC.
Its been an accepted headcanon for a while since emfrej existed that Freja would go through lengths to help Emre. This includes helping him mentally, and Chernobog killing people with his body is bad for his mental health.
What she did was peacefully neutralise the "threat" - which, she usually tries to keep her bounty alive, she just kills when it feels necessary to the bounty. She did this to be able to reason with the AI - im fairly sure the only reason she calls him "emre" in that state is because the AI doesn't have a name to her yet. And yelling "ai" to get someone's attention just sounds like youre a British northerner.
She very obviously uses language that appeals to the curt & soldier-esque vocabulary of the AI. We do not entirely know what the effect that this had, but it clearly worked enough for Cherno to withdraw a bit.
"I'm tired of them bringing in more heroes when there's still so many loose ends"
I hear you, in some cases this is entirely valid, but also they're bringing in new characters to help tie up the loose ends.
Some characters were clearly NOT created with this in mind such as Venture, Hazard, Wuyang & Anran. I do really love them all as characters, but they mostly just open up threads instead of solving them.
However, Emre, Domina, Lifeweaver, Sierra, Illari all do work together to move the plot forward and make it feel more dynamic.
I could potentially be here for hours explaining where they all link, so I'll keep it simplistic:
Sombra is probably the character with the most connections, so we'll start there. Her long-term passion project is finding out about The Conspiracy, who are apparently behind a lot of stuff. But she keeps that on the down low, its important but what's more important is that she serves information above any organisation. Which is why she is helping Soldier & Illari find out what went wrong that killed illari's people.
Then there's Emre, plastered with imagery of the Conspiracy, with a very intelligent Finnish AI inside of him [Chernobog, the old God AI], who has an ability that looks SUSPICIOUSLY similar to Illari's own ultimate, and he's known for stealing information for "his own gain". Its not Improbable that Emre ties together the Conspiracy to God AIs to Overwatch [as a former overwatch agent], to Talon [as the Conspiracy has an interest in Talon], to Illari.
Also I saw that they keep the code for the God AIs where Niran [lifeweaver] currently resides. Though i cannot give a source for that, I'm sorry.
Vendetta, Ashe & Domina all collectively tie together Talon, Deadlock & Vishkar. Adding ramattra to the mix also brings in Null Sector. Mizuki also brings in the Hashimoto, which relates to the Shimadas and Kiriko.
Case in point: there is a VAST Web right now. Ive caught up on all of this in 3 weeks after abandoning the game in 2019. We are finally getting story to go with lore, OW are bringing in characters to help tie it together and move it along and Yous are Complaining?
And yes Sierra has links. She clearly has links to Sojourn, even if we're unsure why yet. It could be that her workpost is former overwatch so she got in contact with them after they regrouped. It could be she was a former agent herself. But she has ties to overwatch and Helix, who we currently only have 1 other character for. And that character LEFT. considering the fact Helix is HEAVILY linked to the defense of Anubis, they are a vital group and we know very little.
I love Emfrej because your first compulsive heterosexual look at them is "oh he got worse and she can fix him, classic redeemed-by-girl-love-interest type shit"
When in all actuality, she's the one who got worse, and despite literally being controlled by a megalomaniac conspiracy 75% of the time, he's the one going to fix her.
the drama on trans twitter rn is that a trans man has a trans girl oc who doesnt pass and is pre-hrt, and all the twitter tirfs are calling them transphobic and nasty for making a "characature" of a trans woman. this person also has an oc in the same story who is a also a trans woman who passes very well and is very feminine, and its clear the younger trans girl looks up to her, but conveniently everyone ignores this other character who isnt "clocky"
and all I can think is how sorry I feel for pre-hrt or non-passing trans girls who see this drama, see other trans women saying awful things about this character's small hips or her flat chest or broad shoulders or her height. how that makes her a characature and a transphobic hate symbol. and i just feel bad !!!! depictions of trans people who dont pass are important! those people exist and deserve love and representation!!!!
I have so many non-passing trans ocs as a trans person. In fact, most of my OCs are trans or have weird relationships with gender and I just love to explore the different complexities. Here are a few of my examples.
Starting out, my Rita [Alton Towers] humanisation is a passing trans woman, but she only realised she was trans when she was in her you adulthood [17-23 kinda range]. She always wanted to be a mechanic, never really felt too stressed about her appearance, and was otherwise interested in mostly masc interests. It was only while doing work for a queer person that she actually considered that she didnt necessarily feel like a man. After fully coming out and starting her transition, she actually also ended up becoming a drag queen and set up a whole bunch of queer-friendly groups for people in typically masculine fields.
My duelling dragon OCs are a lesbian couple that consists of a butch who takes hrt to appear more masc [red track], and a trans woman who chooses not to do a medical transition. They both enjoy skirmishing and sparring, and are quite kinky.
Both my Galactica and Oblivion OCs are transmasc, with Oblivion [ a trans man] noticing early in his life and fighting to transition only a few years after he noticed. My galactica OC realised roughly 20 years after Oblivion did. Galactica doesnt necessarily care much for medical transition and moreso just dresses in a way that means they hold themselves more confidently.
One of my DnD characters - Lorelei Bligh - has a femme name and usually presents as very effeminate [long gothic, lacey dresses], but is agender and uses they/its. Part of their presentation is using people's perceptions of them to gain trust efficiently, part of it is a genuine appreciation for the aesthetics. They also do still feel a tie to girlhood through their family, partially because it hasnt talked much with their family since it came out.
My Nemesis [og/reborn] humanisation is not trans through the technicality that an extradimensional being doesnt necessarily have sexual characteristics as we understand it. Nonetheless, they are a masc/androgynous presenting trigenderflux person that loves dressing up in coordinated outfits of all gender expressions. Especially if they hear someone being transphobic and show up the next day looking like the opposite sec they presented as yesterday. ESPECIALLY since she can and will beat the everloving fuck out of them while in his prettiest dresses.
Likes: Agriculture, Folklore, parapsychology, Floral tastes and smells, leatherbound books, corvids, folk music, the sounds of a forest, regional culture regarding the deceased, indie music.
Dislikes: Makeup, Attention, technology, spices, authority, brutalism, techno music, complete isolation, loud noises, when people forget stuff, repeating herself.
Personality: It may be easy to think she's a very nature loving girly pop princess. Alas. No, she is not a vegan, she loves animals but understand the whole "circle of life" schtik. She has spent most of her life in the woods, and it comes across. She lived long enough in civilisation to now have faint ideas of what she likes, and she will likely remain that way for what she thinks will be the rest of her life.
However, she is still rather young at mind. If you treat her with respect and kindness and don't push yourself onto her territory, she will get attached and your punishment will turn from "becoming a tree" to being slowly infected by different plants.
She is easily spooked, and unfortunately for literally everyone, her first instinct is indeed to attack. Or, well, curse.
Abilities: She is this universe's version of a true witch, essentially harnessing a connection they have to a separate plane of existence to make bargains. As witches get more powerful, the bargains get less costly as they learn how to properly barter. They can hex, summon and commend. The term 'witch' is gender neutral, and applies to anyone with this ability.
She also has the passive ability to grow plants and forest wherever she walks. This makes it really inconvenient for a trip to the corner shop.
Abnormal physical features: Most notably several long, sprawling cracks in her skin that are common from witches. The more cracks they have, the more the cracks splinter. They can be transferred to a secondary object [usually made of wood but can be pretty much anything] but 13 doesn't.
Said cracks will open to show a flowing green substance that is slightly luminescent whenever they attempt to use their magic. There are a few cracks below her right eye which spell out "13".
Otherwise just looks like a normal teen, apart from skin colour [a black] which will always represent the track colour irl [unless there's extenuating circumstance.]
Backstory: In late 2009, a 12 year old girl turned to her mummy and pops with concern after cracks started appearing in her skin. a few days later, her pops leads a team of heavily clad men into their living room, and her mummy grabs her hand and drags her out through the back garden, away from the scary men. Into the forest.
She wasn't stupid, she had listened in the assemblies. The forest was scary. It was dangerous; people went in and didn't come out again. But her mummy was dragging her there, and she did drag her feet so there really wasn't much she could do. And they kept on going deeper, and deeper, and she could swear she could see someone moving there, she really did - maybe it was one of the people who didn't come back out?
And when mummy stopped after what must've been at least 6000 hours, her feet hurt and mummy was sobbing. She wanted to go home, she didn't know where home was, and mummy wouldn't stop crying.
At some point she realised she had been glowing, and her stomach was rumbling more than it had ever been, and her skin was becoming a pure midnight black and she was alone. She screamed.
A few minute-hours later, and a kind woman emerged from the trees, concern written all over her face. Thea couldn't move. She felt it as her body rocked side to side as she was carried to a small clearing, and then went into somewhere that smelled of old and dust.
A few minute-hours later than that, and she was having grapes and a bottle thrust at her mouth, and she took it hungrily.
She didn't know it at the time, but she remained in that cycle of impossibly hungry to indulging for months, until 10th of March 2010 where her body finally stopped, broken in some impossible-to-fix way.
Eventually, she came to, and after weeping in the 5-months-stranger's arms, finally got acquainted with her situation. She would not be left like that, she simply would not. anyone close would stay.
This was the way of her world for 6 years, until the commotion with The Ministry Of Joy, where she was one again exposed to the horrible heavily-clad people. But this time she had footing, and in the honour of the people lost, she took her chance to strike.
Current residency: The Dark Forest: The State Home's crypt.
