#What happened. If it was a deliberate choice it was a very bad one in my humble opinion

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 6!!!

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[boxingcleverrr]

Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Freelance Inventor Part 2

Dedicated to @jimmysorsprinkles Thank you for enjoying my random dabbles. I saw that you wanted more Dads, Danny/Bruce, who are unknowingly co-parenting, so here it is! (set during the first prompt through the years of Danny just being a dad whenever he's home)

"I just don't know what to do," Bruce admits, watching Dick stomp about in tiny angry circles, muttering in his native tongue under his breath. He's been out there for about a half hour, doing laps in the yard. Danny knows he deliberately chose to do so under the window leading to Bruce's office.

The kid definitely wanted his guardian to know he was mad at him .

It was the fact Dick was unconsciously hunching his shoulders, curling his fist, and even raising his knee slightly higher than he needed for his stomps that were a nod to Bruce whenever the man was upset.

It seemed like Dick had picked up habits from Bruce during his short time here. If anything, Danny thought it rather cute if it weren't for the fact Dick was so upset.

"What happened?" He asked, standing beside Bruce, overlooking the pre-teen throwing a fit.

Bruce's frown is sharp and hinted with just the edge of uncertainty that anyone who didn't know him well would have dismissed. "He was being reckless in one of our extreme sports, and when I rightfully scolded him for it, he took it as me not trusting him."

Danny tilts his head, considering. It's been over three years since he became acquainted with the Waynes, and in that time- between his travels, his inventing, and his general desire to learn all he could in any way he could- he noticed that Dick was very quick to anger as a defensive mechanism.

This clashed horribly with Bruce's own mechanism- which was shutting down or at least emotionally wise. While Dick sneered and raged against the world, Bruce tried his best to forget he was human and detached himself from the situation.

Which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into Dick's insecurities or Bruce's anxiety when they both reacted to adverse situations.

He has spoken to Jazz about it, and his sister has given him some advice that has helped him smooth things over with the young boy. Empathizing and paraphrasing the boy's issues was a big step in letting him feel heard and his feelings acknowledged.

For Bruce, he treated him like a ghost who had never seen a human. Plenty of ghosts were never human, were born in the ghost zone, or had been there for so long that they had forgotten what humans were like. Danny took time to explain why someone reacted the way they did- at least, why he thought so- and never made Bruce feel less for needing the help.

It was fun, in a way, to see Bruce's eyes lighten up with understanding and get him to talk about his rooted issues, but having to do so on carefully balanced tones and word choice. Phantom had so much practice de-escalating ghosts that it was a walk in the park with Bruce.

"I'll talk to him," Danny promised, leaning over to rest his hand on Bruce's shoulder and not batting an eye when the taller man landed down to rest his forehead on Danny's shoulder.

Where Bruce couldn't say in words, he yelled in his actions. It reminded him a bit of Wulf.

Bruce took a deep breath before nodding. "Thank you."

Danny hummed, reaching up to pet Bruce's hair like he would soothe Wulf, on days the werewolf would twitch too much at the door slamming, and suddenly his friend was mentally back in Walker's prison. "No problem. But, I will also be speaking to you later, and you are going to listen to Dick's side of the story without interrupting at dinner."

"Yes, Danny"

Alfred threw him an approving smile as he marched outside to meet Dick's rage-filled eyes and nervous hand twitching. He could catch the ending bits of whatever rant the boy was muttering.

"You're right. Bruce is an idiot sometimes." He starts grinning as the boy's eyes narrow further.

"You don't speak Romani."

"I may not understand what you're saying, but trust me, I feel it." Danny chirps, watching Dick's shoulder relax a little. " What did he do this time?"

"You won't even believe it!" Dick snaps, and then he's off, Danny keeping pace with him step by step as the boy works himself into another frenzy.

Later that night, Dick explained that he hated how Bruce made him feel so belittled and unimportant, his voice tight with a itch to fight, and Bruce carefully- with significant prompting from Danny- explained how he didn't mean it that way. He was only worried that he was about to watch Dick die in front of him, and he couldn't live through losing his family again.

Dick looked shocked to be considered family, and Danny swore he helped the boy sneak into Bruce's office, which so happened to have the adoption papers Bruce was hiding. Alfred gave him a large sample of pudding for dessert.

______________________________________________

"Hey, kid," Danny whispered, watching Jason tense up momentarily. It's not overly noticeable, but Danny has grown used to seeing little ghost blobs show emotions by how they twisted and twirled over the years, so he could tell what the slight tightening of the fingers around the book meant.

Anxious.

It would be understandable if Jason had been present for another one of Dick's and Bruce's explosive arguments. He came from a household that had an older male figure beat him whenever Willis got in a mood, so while he knew that Bruce or Dick would never hit him, Jason still tried to make himself scarce.

Jazz was the one to point out Jason's usage of escapism in the form of books to comfort himself, and so Danny took whatever time he could manage to read the same books as Jason while on his travels.

"What?" The boy grunted, voice soft but weary.

Danny sits across from him, making sure to stay in Jason's eyesight at all times. He had realized in only his second visit after meeting Jason that the boy did not like having someone too close in his space.

He grew up on the streets where being weary of older men kept him alive- Danny would never fault him for what he had to do to survive.

Unlike Dick, who was always down to talk about why he was upset if only to rant, Jason preferred to have a distraction. So he offers him a smile that he hopes projects You're safe with me and pulls out a book from his bag.

Jason's eyes light up at the cover. "I had some theories on Mr. Darcy being in love with Mr.Bingley before he met Elizabeth, and Bruce won't agree with me. Help me find citations as proof?"

"It's so obvious that he was, how can the old man not see that!" Jason snorts, tilting his head in a cute habit that he picked up from Dick. He really looks up to his big brother no matter how tense things can get.

Danny is glad he's gotten Dick to explain to Jason that he didn't hate him, but he was going through a lot, and Jason as a street kid, understood on some level.

"The old just hate listening to other people's suggestions even when we're right!." Jason leans over to read the book Danny places between them, considering Jane Austin's work while Danny files away the real reason he's upset with Bruce.

Later, after Jason and he present a bemused Bruce with a report on why Mr.Darcy is bi and had feelings for his best friend before meeting his wife, he tells Bruce to explain why he didn't consider Jason's suggestion in their extreme sport.

Jason goes to bed that night with a better answer than "because I said so," and Danny forces Bruce to go up to his room and re-read Pride and Prejudice to connect with his youngest.

Alfred offers them extra blankets and pillows since the two get so caught up reading to each other that Danny just decides sleeping in Bruce's bed is easier than walking down two wings to the guest rooms.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm not going to bed," Tim snapped when Danny knocked on his door. His fingers are flying over the keyboard of his computer, his little face glowing from the computer screen, and Danny is almost reminded of himself whenever he gets caught up in his work.

It may worry Bruce and Alfred, but Danny is a Fenton. He knows what it's like to have his brain run over time and sacrifice sleep or meals to get his ideas into the world.

His mother is the same, his father is the same, his sister is the same, and even Danny's clone is the same. It's fitting that the little boy he caught following Batmam around with a camera is the same since he all but forced Bruce to adopt him.

He hadn't meant to.

He had been testing an air purifier when he returned to Gotham since Bruce and the kids were out of state, and his ghost hearing picked up the sound of a camera click.

Imagine his surprise that when he turned to the roof opposite him, he found the tiny little face of an eleven-year-old staring back, holding a camera, and Batman swinging away in the distance. Danny became attached to Tim that night, even after he chased the boy down to ask if he was safe.

He did not like the implications of his parents always "working" while Tim ran amok in Gotham.

It took almost two weeks of following Tim around Gotham to help him with his photos before the boy allowed him to take him to Wayne Manor. It took three more before Bruce realized that Danny wouldn't allow Tim's parents to win him back, and together, they took the Drakes to court.

Danny has never been more grateful that Bruce was loaded with money and that his inventions gained him contacts in high places that wouldn't mind taking the Drakes down.

Tim was a lot like Bruce- where he shut down- but he needed people to be around him more. Sometimes just sitting in the same room- where Tim could glance up and see him- was enough for the boy to be at ease.

This was great for Bruce, who thought he didn't need to do much to make Tim happy- until Danny reminded him that Tim was a poor boy who was gutted for any form of parental approval.

He had to almost punch Bruce after overhearing him tell Tim he was proud of him, but there was room for improvement. Bruce meant it as helpful, constructive criticism, but Tim- whose parents all but drilled how useless he was- only heard criticism.

Only heard, he was not enough.

So now Tim was going, who knew how many hours without sleep, trying to fix whatever issue he thought he had caused. How a fourteen-year-old could have caused issues at his adoptive dad's multimillion-dollar company was beyond Danny, but it meant a lot to Tim, so he didn't need to understand it.

He just needed to respect it.

"Don't want you to," Danny grunts, throwing himself on Tim's queen-sized bed. "I just wanted to know if I could crash here. Bruce pissed me off."

Tim's fingers pause. "What did he do?"

"He tried to tell me how to handle my inventions' payment. I'm a freelancer! I know how to do that." Danny complains while twisting under the covers. Tim slowly turns around to look at him, but he acts like he doesn't notice. "I know he'll try to talk to me in the guest rooms, but he won't find me here. I just don't want to listen to another "I can do it better" lecture."

After a moment's pause, Tim admits. "He did the same to me and my team."

He means Cassie, Bart, and Conner. The little team of photography buddies Bruce introduced Tim back when they started homeschooling him. Dani suggested pulling Tim out of school is one of the best advice his clone ever gave him.

Tim took the pictures, Cassie and Conner modeled, and Bart made the clothes. Their work was slowly gaining traction online, and Tim seemed to glow whenever the Team was mentioned.

"Course he did." Danny sigh. He leans back into the pillow. "Know why he did it, too. Bruce doesn't want me to be taken advantage of, but it's hard not to hear him think I can't keep up, especially when my family is doing the same thing."

"Yeah," Tim's voice is soft. "It's frustrating that all your hard work is overshadowed or that everything you've done so far doesn't prove that you know you can."

Bingo. Danny discovered Tim's issue; now he just needs to bring it home.

"I know I'm great at what I do. You said so yourself- my past proves I am crazy good at work. I leave other people breathless in awe all the time. I can adapt and overcome so much faster than others. Bruce can see that, but he forgets to praise it." Danny huffs like he's trying not to be forgiving, and it causes a smile to unwillingly appear on Tim's face.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow but today I'm being petty and hiding. Thanks for letting me sleep here"

"You're welcome, Danny." Tim goes back to his typing, but only after a minute or two of Danny asking if he can turn off the light does the boy save his work and shut his computer down.

The room is plunged into darkness but Danny doesn't need the light to see how Tim sinks into his mattress. Tim is smart- crazy smart that every part of him that's Fenton crows with pride- and he can easily see through Danny.

"Thank you Danny" He doesn't say what for but he doesn't need to.

Danny reaches over, grabs the blankets, and makes sure they cover the small shoulder, tucking Tim in properly. "Any time kid"

The next morning, Bruce wakes them up with a powerpoint of all the things he thought were impressive about Tim and his team's last photo session. A powerpoint for Pete's sake.

But it makes Tim smile so much that Danny lets it slide. At least he listened when Danny chewed him out for forgetting to praise Tim.

Alfred offers Danny some of his private tea jars, which according to Dick, means Danny is in for life as Tim, Jason, and Bruce go over the PowerPoint again. Jason has begone to heal for his bitch of a mother's betrayal a few months ago.

Thankfully, Danny was in the area when he called and reminded the lady why she should not mess with Bruce's kids. Dani paying her a visit in her jail cell was just the Fentons' sending their regards.

(His dad gave Dani the ani-creep stick, and his mom hacked the cameras to loop. Jazz just watched hours of her to realize what made the woman scream and cry before sending the clone on her way. It was a good family bonding moment)

No one believed the woman claiming to be haunted that her son was Robin. Honestly, where on earth she got that idea Danny would never know.

His Jason, the sweet school-loving boy who graduated as valedictorian, running around punching criminals? Honestly, what was she going to claim next?

Bruce being Batman?!

Please.

[blueskittlesart]

did u not like totk?

i LOVED totk. i think it was well-written and did its job as a sequel to botw very well. HOWEVER. i do think it suffered slightly from the commercial success of botw. as i mentioned in my last post, nintendo does this. thing. when one of their games gets popular where every game after it has to be Exactly The Same so they can make all the money in the world via comparison marketing. (and this is a problem with the wider game industry in general but also a very observable pattern in loz specifically.) I know it's been a pretty long time since botw came out, but before (and immediately following) its release there was some pushback from longtime fans who worried that the open-world and lack of traditional dungeons meant that the game had strayed too far from the classic formula that makes a game a "zelda game." this is to say, botw was EXPERIMENTAL. and the devs had no idea if what they were doing was going to be successful or not. the open-world of botw wasn't a gimmick, and it wasn't the devs jumping on the open-world bandwagon. it was what CREATED that bandwagon. the open-world was a deliberate choice made specifically for botw because it reinforced the story that botw was designed to tell. the game is about exploring a desolate world, about making connections, and rebuilding both the broken kingdom and the player character's shattered sense of self by traveling and learning and building relationships. a large open-world map with only minor quest guidelines and lots of collectibles and side quests lends itself perfectly to this specific story, which is specifically about exploration and rebirth.

the problem is, botw was. almost TOO good. it was so good that every other game company on the planet started scrambling to build giant open-world maps into their next release, regardless of how much sense that actually made narratively. and because of that, when it came time to release a sequel to botw, the devs had a lot to think about. they had HUGE shoes to fill in terms of fan reception, but they were ALSO being asked to follow up one of the best-performing games of all time, commercially. totk needed to SELL as well as botw. And, likely because nintendo was worried about that potential commercial value, totk needed to keep people comfortable. I don't know for certain, but I definitely get the feeling playing totk that the devs were specifically told not to stray too far from what made botw marketable and successful--that being the open world and the versatility of gameplay. so in order to follow that up, they made... 2 more huge open maps, and new gimmick gameplay which was explicitly super-versatile.

do i think that the extra maps and ultrahand were BAD choices? no. however, i don't think they necessarily ADDED anything to the game as a narrative whole. one of my favorite things about botw was how everything seemed to be designed AROUND the narrative, with gameplay elements slotting neatly into the story thematically. totk just. didn't really have that, imo. there wasn't a huge narrative benefit to the gigantic, completely unpopulated depths and sky maps. ultrahand was cool, but within the context of the story it meant basically nothing. in some ways, i almost think totk could have benefitted from a much more linear approach to its storytelling, a la skyward sword, because there are a lot of story beats that have to be found in chronological order in order to have the right emotional impact, but because of the nonlinear open-world it kind of became a struggle to hit all the important story points in the right order. an easy example of this is the dragon's tears in comparison to the memories--the dragon tears have a very specific set order in which they happen, and finding them out of order can make the story you're seeing in them feel confusing and disjointed. the order in which they should be found is technically displayed on the temple wall, but most players aren't going to pick up on that or follow it--more likely, they're just going to explore the geoglyphs as they come across them organically, and therefore will likely witness the story in a completely disjointed way. compare this to the botw memories, which ALSO technically have a set order--the order in which they're displayed on the sheikah slate. however, because they're largely just small moments in time, and not one continuous story, finding them out of order has a lot less of an impact on how you as the player experience the narrative, and it's not hugely detrimental to your experience of the story if you find them naturally as you explore rather than explicitly seeking them out in order. If TOTK had been allowed to deviate from the botw formula a bit, i think we may have ended up with a more cohesive game in terms of narrative beats like that. as it is, i just think the game is torn slightly between wanting to be its own new game with new gameplay and needing to be botw, if that makes sense.

[letbludcook]

WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

You pretty much don't know what happened after the first round. You might've drifted away for a while if not hours (you hope it wasn't), but awakened at him peppering you with kisses. When you opened your eyes barely, he gave you a smile.

Why does he keep on smiling sweetly tonight?

"Open your legs wider."

You followed suit. "W-we're still going?"

"Fold it to your chest."

"Do you still have—"

He cut you off with one quick thrust that had you yelping. He didn't even need to ask if you could take it, your mixed-up fluids did the job of making the pace sloppier. And oh god he did—he did so fucking well for you. Every thrust ravaged you in any way it could—momentarily depriving you of rational thinking, literally nothing but the desperation of feeling him more.

"Too fast, I might—hah—I might," you tried to sit up. You don't want him to stop, but still.

"Stay still," he sternly said and you followed quickly. He almost smiled a little too wide, "Good girl. That's it. Lay down and take more." and trapped you by resting his hand just beside your head. He used it as his support.

After a few more thrusts you got the urgency to yelp, "I might let out too much!" but oh, of course, silly you, it was too late.

He felt it again, you tightened so bad and shockwaves gripped your body. What completely took him was when you spurted all over his lower stomach. Your limbs shook for a while and you were too shocked to even mind the mess that you just made. Your orgasm stained his sheets. He froze. It took him quite a while to process that, completely wide-eyed and mouth almost gaping. That felt utterly good.

After clicking another smile, he moved again and endearingly rested his palm on your cheeks as if to coo you for that, "You must love me so much to let me do and see all this, hm?" but his grip on it was a complete contrary. He went faster again. He clung to you just so he could rut deeper and deeper.

Still, you nodded and attempted to answer, "I love—ah—"

"You love what?" he snickered and gritted his teeth. He was too spent already, mind in shambles. He barely heard you, even. He could only comprehend remnants of your phrases.

"You!" you choked on your breath, "I love you. 'm sorry. I should've said s-sooner."

And there he was lost for good. It brought him to the peak of debauchery that he can’t even tease you anymore. Everything's just not enough; not his thrusts, not your smell, and not even your profession of love would ever suffice. The way he gulped down his greed exuded some sort of pity for you but he can't let it go now. You're so good. He lived his life very reluctant to lay his hands on you. Such divinity yet you deliberately let him do this—blurted out how you love him with ease, looked at him full of endearment as if he's not giving you a hard time.

"'m sorry," he finally muttered as he kissed the tears away, "can't stop, need it. Just take more, just a few more."

He followed suit, then. Gave you all of him, spilled himself inside. He was letting out so much that he couldn't help but utter a long moan. He engulfed you with a kiss again in hopes of lowering his voice.

He realized your small sobs so he whispered sweetly, "I'll just make sure it won't drip, yeah? You’re being so good for me.”

So you let him, not like you have any other choice. You want all of it and he's gripping your thigh hardly; he will not let you move until he's finished. With mind shattered and unable to even keep yourself awake, you let him take care of you—just like how he willingly would from hereon.

erwin smith. gojo satoru. toji fushiguro.

[luulapants]

What a safe space for concrit looks like and why the comments section will never be that

I'm in an IRL group for songwriters who want help developing and polishing their work. It's an incredible space, very effective, and no one ever leaves feeling bad about their songs. I'm going to share a few of the things that work really well about this group and compare those to online environments, particularly comment sections:

Group settings create accountability. If someone is a dick, it has real social consequences, not just from the person being critiqued but from everyone in the room who saw it happen. Online spaces, while very public, are paradoxically intimate. It's unlikely that third parties will scour comments on someone else's work, and if they do - what are the consequences? The critic probably doesn't know them.

We know our critics. We know the critic's level of expertise in different areas, if they have different styles and preferences from ours, and can weight their opinions accordingly. The opinion of a random stranger online cannot be weighed or evaluated and is therefore worthless.

We know our performers. We know the proficiency of the person we're critiquing, if they're new or shy or young, if they're branching into a type of music they're not familiar with. We adjust the type of feedback we give based on who's receiving it. Typically, commenters online have no idea if they're critiquing a professional artist or a literal child just starting out.

Everyone needs to bring something to group. If you don't have a song (or even part of a song) to share, you can't come this week. This puts everyone on equal footing: we're all being vulnerable, we're all going through critique today. It's easy to hand out judgments when you have nothing at stake, but you're a lot more careful handling someone's work when you know they'll be handling yours, too. Commenters online have nothing at stake, no reciprocal vulnerability, which creates an unfair power dynamic.

"What kind of feedback do you want?" We ask this question before every performance. People are able to draw specific boundaries, point out areas where they're confused or conflicted ("This chord sounds wrong to me but I'm not sure what to use.") and areas that are too sensitive for critique ("This is a personal story, so I don't want to change the narrative.") Going in blind online, you have no idea if you're addressing a personal landmine or a deliberate creative choice.

Only bring things that are unfinished and open to change. The purpose of bringing a song to group is to get edits and suggestions. The purpose of posting your work online is to share it and have it be enjoyed by others. You should assume that, by the time someone is posting something on their Tumblr or AO3 etc., that it is a finished product no longer open for changes.

[lavenderlacedquill]

FIRST DATE WITH WILL!!!!!!!

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Decided to go with a headcanon for this one because it made the most sense!

✧˖°

We all know it's canon that Will doesn't "date", that's just not his move, and I very much stand behind that sentiment. He doesn't seem up to the dating semantics and investing time in people he isn't sure would be willing to do the same with him.

You two will have been colleagues or friends to some degree for a while before that spark turned into something else. But when it does, he would just be a sweetheart.

Will definitely doesn't seem to be a first date dinner person, and would probably opt for going to a museum, seeing a movie, or teaching you how to fish. These situations have less pressure on the both of you and would let you both have a good time without feeling the need to perform.

You two didn't have the traditional "are we together" conversation, it just wasn't necessary. You love spending time with him, he loves spending time with you, and that was all the clarification you needed.

If you work together, he 10000% will leave small gifts at your desk. Snacks, sweet notes, and, if you're into them, little things for your desk. They'll be random and spontaneous, always bringing a smile to your face (You'll get him back with a surprise coffee before one of his lecture starts :)

You'll likely move in with him once you've both decided you would rather not wake up without each other, and his face will have a smile plastered all over it for the entire moving day. He'll make your first official night together special by cooking you both a lovely dinner, among other things ;)

If he leaves for work before you do, he will ALWAYS give you a kiss before he leaves and makes sure you will have fresh coffee/tea ready. He will leave a sweet little note by your bed so it will be the first thing you see when you wake up.

You both will destress from your busy days together, always making sure to check in with one another and remain in the loop about their daily lives. This would be especially important to Will, whether you work together or not, because his job is very demanding and can feel isolating. He appreciates hearing about your daily doings and it helps him come back to reality in a way.

With his nightmares, you'll come up with a routine that works the best for him. You'll comfort him when he needs, give him space when their especially bad, and will always be open to talk about them if he is comfortable. He'll likely feel guilty for waking you, may even feel like he is imposing on you, but you'll always reassure him otherwise. He'll be grateful, even if he has a hard time expressing it.

You'll be fishing buddies! Whether you fish alongside him or read by the bank, you will always accompany him. This time wouldn't always be spent actively communicating with each other, more so just existing together, and that's beautiful. You appreciate any chance you get to be still together.

As it concerns Hannibal, Will tries to keep you out of that equation. He is somewhat aware of Hannibals habits of manipulation and does not want you to become tangled in that. Now, he doesn't deliberately try to hide you, but does not advertise you either. You're his. Plain and simple. This being said, I don't think Will would hide what happens in his visits from you, but gives you the choice to be as involved as you want to be.

He'll take an interest in your hobbies if you welcome him to. He'll ask about books your reading, crafts you've made, or movies you've watched with genuine curiosity. He loves watching and listening to you talk about something you're passionate about.

Will is BIG on communication. Arguments are handled with utmost respect, and will always be resolved without yelling. You both make a point to bring issues up to each other when they present themselves, because you have a lot of love for each other and the safety you feel in your relationship. That will always be taken seriously.

Overall, your relationship would be beautifully complex. He doesn't take me as the type to settle for someone he isn't absolutely in love with. You will never have to question his love, and neither will he.

✧˖°

The gif I used is from the ever talented @hughdancybabyface. I am very new to using gifs on Tumblr and crediting their creators, any advice is welcome!

I am currently taking requests! Send me all of your lovely Will Graham thoughts, just please read my guidelines first :)

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

[artbyblastweave]

So, the thing about Ward's worldbuilding is, it's bad on purpose. This is something I didn't catch until a relisten of the earlier parts, but the disconnect between the actual literal apocalypse that occurred two years prior and the shockingly advanced levels of infrastructure and technology is very deliberate. The entire thing is slapdash and farcical. You have people out the door of a shitty concrete hovel lining up for bad coffee. You have cars built out of random scavenged parts, "dumpsters" that Victoria can't manhandle because they're made of clumsily-welded-together scrap metal. Victoria can't reliably navigate at night because power to the city below is intermittent (and her mother Carol happens to live in one of the parts that does have consistent power; that's unexamined, make of it what you will.) The mall cluster shitshow goes down in a "mall" that, IIRC, is called out later as having been basically a dead end economically, a doomed grasp at a sense of normalcy. The patrol block uses recycled PRT gear, Dot's interlude involves the machine army jumping a bunch of bog-standard apocalypse scavengers. What you're looking at isn't a new society built up shockingly quickly; you're looking at the previously-well-supplied-and-externally-supported outpost of the recently destroyed society, and after two years they're finally chewing through the last of the head start they got. The societal equivalent of Wile. E. Coyote hanging in the air above the cliff, or of the seemingly-untouched duelist seconds away from sliding in half. Unfortunately, due to choices made about the timeframe and focus of the story, the Coyote sprouts wings. The duelist whips out a staple gun. Or to come at this from another angle- in The Walking Dead, a comic I really like, I can sort of organize the arc of the apocalypse into three-ish big chunks. For the first eight or nine months in universe, about 48 issues, things are obviously bad, right, quite a few people have died, but there's a sense among Rick and company that they might be able to ride it out, that things are on the upswing. They've got crops going, they have new births, maybe help from the government proper isn't coming the way they thought it might towards the start, but things are looking up! Then, of course, the Great Fuckening of Volume Eight occurs, and you enter the middle phase of the comic, where they're down to like a third of their group, they're food-insecure, they're constantly on the move, they're under attack from rapists and cannibals who've descended into habitual atrocity because they're totally without hope. Children are having mental breaks and killing children, the first friendly guy Rick met in the whole comic is now an insane hermit feeding dead bodies to his undead son, on and on and on and on and on. Bad times, but a comparatively short middle in the grand scheme of things. Then they find Alexandria, and the back half of the comic is spent basically on an upward trajectory with some zig-zags, there are still periodic existential threats but they're clearly past the nadir.

Ward feels like it starts midway through that first part, the you-don't-know-how-much-worse-this-can-get part, with the emphasis on the social tensions, the encroaching winter, but then it just...doesn't get much worse. I mean they have a rough three months, but then they sort of speedrun right to the hopeful future ending as soon as the titans are dealt with. There were parts that I suspect were supposed to be the dark-night-of-the-soul I'm alluding to but they didn't land as such. I feel as though the superhero genre stuff kind of subordinated the apocalypse stuff, made it less visible by virtue of whose POV we were following, and sometimes I feel that as a remedy to this, Ward should have taken place over the course of years, and it should have Just Kept Getting Worse. For example Breakthrough should have had to kill and eat Rain to survive the winter

[eggy-tea]

the thing that is SO WILD to me watching usamericans on the internet talk about their upcoming elections is that this is one of those incredibly rare occasions where you are choosing between two guys who have ALREADY DONE THE JOB.

look, i’m canadian. we have a first past the post parliamentary system and i don’t even get to vote directly for the person who will lead the country because i don’t live in any of the leaders’ ridings. i don’t live in any of the big important cities or even the big important provinces. i know ALL ABOUT “it feels like my vote doesn’t matter.” and all the same, i’m incredibly worried that a lot of people will vote conservative because they don’t like trudeau (fair! he sucks!) and hey, who knows, poilievre might be better. let’s give him a chance. time for a change etc. etc. (and of course there are a bunch of people who want what he’s selling and that’s depressing as hell too but they’re not the swing voters who will make a difference here.) never mind that the dude seems very happy to cozy up to our own local fascists. we don’t know for a fact what he’ll be like as pm, because he hasn’t been pm yet, and we DO know what trudeau is like, and we don’t like him.

the argument for change because it might be good is very compelling to our little animal brains when the status quo is BAD. poilievre is even banking on this! he’s been keeping his promises and stances deliberately vague so people can fill in the blanks with whatever they hope will happen.

and what’s so absolutely mind-breakingly incomprehensible to me is that THIS IS NOT THE CASE IN THE US but so many americans KEEP TALKING LIKE IT IS. each of these dudes has already done the job. they are known quantities. and you (realistically) only get to choose between the two of them. the political machine is going to go through with all of the usual debates and campaigning and thinkpieces and op-eds and rallies and whatever else pageantry, but biden and trump have told you who they are. they’ve SHOWN you who they are. it’s not often you get such a clear-cut choice with so much solid information behind it. you either vote for one of them and live with your choice or you hide your head in the sand and pretend that if you don’t vote one of them won’t win. and then you live with your cowardice because when the time came to choose you couldn’t bear to look.

(which is guess is also why so much effort is going into convincing people to just fucking vote oh my god i get it if you can’t because so many people have been deliberately disenfranchised in the us but if you can and you just don’t so help me…)

[luckybyler]

It’s PAINFULLY OBVIOUS that Stranger Things was meant to be three seasons long: season 1, 2, and a previous version of what we will now know as season 5.

I’m not saying that seasons 3 and 4 are bad, they’re great. But they very much feel like a detour from the original plan.

We know the show was meant to last more than 1 season because Noah auditioned for Will by reading the “crazy together” scene from season 2. We know it was meant to last more than two seasons because in the original script of the snowball dance they had Will looking longingly at Mike, which implies there was still stuff to be explored (we may be able to find clues in other, monster-related plots). However, they removed Will’s look towards Mike and added an unscripted Mileven kiss. This was a deliberate choice to stretch these storylines further instead of being resolved in the third, originally final season. They also came up with that horrid hidden spin-off pilot that was episode 7.

Seasons 3 and 4 feel like a forced detour from the original plan: the whole dealing with a lot of summer tween/early teenager angst, “killing” Hopper then immediately showing us that he’s not dead, retrofitting Vecna into the story, which meant giving El the soap opera-esque “stroke” as a justification for why she could barely talk when there were other kids there; “killing” Brenner then bringing him back *again* just to kill him *again*, making El lose her powers for a minute yet get them back *again*. Making the Byers move to California just to bring them back *again*, having El learning about fashion just to regress *again*, breaking up Mileven twice just to get them back together *again*. And made Byler fall out then reconnect *again*, then Will look at Mike longingly while he gave his speech to El, a heightened version of what was supposed to happen at the Snowball dance. They even rehashed Steve’s feelings for Nancy *again*.

Trim the fat from Seasons 3 and 4, and all the main characters are in a place where they would have been a couple of episodes or maybe halfway into a hypothetical 3rd and final season: Jopper are together; Jancy are together but have the college thing to talk about, Mileven are together but there’s doubt that Mike loves her, Byler are full of romantic tension but getting interrupted, Max has just been attacked and is the one in a coma this time while Lucas suffers, Dustin just experienced the loss of a big brother figure (clearly a placeholder for Steve), Hawkins is destroyed by the Upside Down, etc.

My theory is that the Duffers were working on Season 2 when Netflix addressed Stranger Things’ sudden massive popularity, sat them down, asked them to make it five season instead at least, and they said “fine”, so they tweaked the middle in order to get back to (more of less) their original idea for the ending.

[oopsallfictives]

I'm gonna take a stab at creating an alternate definition of the word delusion, since I'm not a fan of the one commonly used in a medical context. This is gonna deal with some unreality and paranoia-inducing stuff, so read at your own risk.

The definition most commonly used for delusion is a false belief that a person can't be persuaded isn't real or true, even if they're shown evidence to the contrary. This is a flawed definition for a number of reasons, chief among them that sometimes people are just wrong and stubborn about it. We know that it can be incredibly difficult for people to change their minds once they're personally invested in an idea, but that's not the same as being delusional. A person who still believes vaccines cause autism probably isn't delusional, they're just personally invested in the idea because it validates their view that autism is bad and gives them a scapegoat to blame for the existence of autistic people. That's an ideology, not a delusion.

Another flaw is that some things can't necessarily be confirmed to be untrue. One of the most well-known (and commonly mocked) delusions is some variation of "the government is spying on me". This isn't something that's easily verified as either true on untrue, and it's also something that literally does happen to people. I live in the US, where we know the government spies on people. We know that in the wake of 9/11, US intelligence agencies undertook a massive campaign of surveillance of Muslim and Middle Eastern people living in the US. So "the government is spying on me" might not actually be a false belief, and you probably can't know that for sure.

Attempting to rely on a belief being false can be dangerous, too. I remember reading the story of a person who was labelled as delusional for saying Obama followed them on Twitter, and was incarcerated in a psych ward until they lied and said they'd realized they were delusional and Obama didn't follow them. The thing is, he did. It was true and verifiable, but the medical professional evaluating them refused to check if it was true so they didn't "encourage the delusion". Sane people tend to believe they have an absolute and correct understand of reality, and a lot of them would rather call you delusional than adjust their worldview. And if that person is a medical professional, they can completely turn your life upside down and stick you in conditions that the UN has called torture.

So here's my proposed alternative: a delusion is an involuntary belief that isn't rooted in logic or evidence, and that a person can't stop believing even if they know it isn't true.

Let's break that down. The involuntary part is important. Delusional people don't have control over our delusions. We don't believe them because we want to or because we think they're true, we just believe them. It's true that delusions can draw on voluntary beliefs, including bigotry, but believing the delusion isn't a choice. We can't just stop. In the case of delusions rooted in bigotry, the person is still responsible for holding those bigoted beliefs in the first place, even though they don't have control of the delusion that came from them. This is an important caveat, because people love to call bigots delusional for things they chose to believe.

The second part is that it's not rooted in any kind of logic or evidence. If a person believes something untrue due to faulty logic and/or misinformation, that's not a delusion. That's called being wrong.

Lastly, I chose the wording "even if they know it's not true" very deliberately. Some delusional people know, either always or sometimes, that our delusions aren't real or true. I personally always know, but that never stops me believing them. If you've never experienced this, it can be hard to imagine what it feels like to know something isn't true and still be unable to stop believing in it. It's contradictory and confusing and really hard to put into words. Of course, there are also delusional people who don't know their delusions aren't true, or who're confused and can't figure it out. It's not the same for everyone. This part of the definition also covers being presented evidence and being unable to accept it as true.

For some people, being told their delusions aren't true can also be extremely distressing and even push them further into it. Never reality check a delusional person unless they ask you to, or it's part of a crisis plan you made with them. The same goes for playing into or confirming a delusion. Do your best to remain neutral on whether or not their belief is true, and try to focus more on their emotions and how it's affecting them. If you know a psychotic person, it's a good idea to ask them (preferably while they're not having a psychotic episode) how they'd like you to handle it.

I'm open to critique from other psychotic people, but if you're aggressive or mean I'll probably just ignore you. This is just an idea, a rough draft, and I'd like to know what the community thinks. Nonpsychotics can reblog, but keep your thoughts to yourself

-Oliver (it/its)

[therese-lokidottir]

Verity Willis arc was about friendship

In Agent of Asgard #2 Loki meets a young woman named Verity Willis who can see through his illusions. He's intrigued, it's not something she's deliberately doing just something that happens. So he tells her what brought him to the speed dating event and prompts Verity to tell her story.

Verity can see through every lie and untruth, and it's left her pretty isolated and lonely. Loki gives Verity some reassurance. There are people in this world who'll to you. Telling her she doesn't have to give up hope and be alone. Loki of course can never promise to be completely honest, but he does offer Verity a friendship.

Loki truly means it he wants to be friends and Verity from the start is happy to hear that Loki means it. From the very beginning Verity willing to believe in Loki.

It's ironic how the God of Lies could become friends with a living lie detector, but it also makes sense. At this point, it's challenging for anyone to believe Loki completely. However, there is one exception - someone who can see the truth. This person knows that Loki genuinely wants to change and become a better person.

Verity is someone who absolutely believes in free will. Even when told the future. Even when told things are inevitable, she believes in Loki and his freedom to make his own choice. Loki is her friend, he someone she cares about and she doesn't want to lose him as a friend.

Verity isn't just Loki's only friend but it's clear Loki is Verity first friend as well. The first person she can sit down with, talk with and make joke with and believe in. It is a friendship that is truly based on trust.

Another rebirth, having to confront their bad future self and the universe is about to end and its Verity that Loki wants to be. In this moment she could use a friend. Have the one person who believed in them even when Loki doubted themself.

And Verity is able to stay be Loki's till the end. See him find peace with himself and see him take fate into his own hands. And she's happy for him. It's a new start for Loki he's change but they're still friend after everything.

[wildpeachfarm]

been browsing the reddit and there is an interesting point they bring up that i think a lot of people are afraid of pointing out for fear of coming off as victim blaming. and its the fact that people are very quick to dismiss accountability on caitis side, with most people pinning it all on her friends. and im guilty of this too but theyre not wrong in that caiti deliberately chose to word her first stream like that, she chose to leave information out/lie, and she chose to share that screenshot even though it was fake and said nothing to clear it up. even if her friends have influenced her, she still chose to go through with it. her friends did not hold her at gunpoint and force her to do those things. and i guess its because i was thinking about the framing of "freshly 18" and the way that people are accusing george of sexually assaulting a "young girl". like we pushed back on those things because 18 is an adult, she's not a child and infantilizing her is weird in an attempt to smear george. but i think by pinning all the blame on her friends, we kinda circle back around to making it seem like shes just a helpless little girl who cant make decisions on her own. and i 100% understand that her pain couldve caused these things, maybe she really didnt remember things well, maybe she was afraid if it didnt sound bad enough no one would take her seriously, i dont know. and i empathize with that but also she needlessly demonized a man to a wild extend and i do think she needs to take responsibility for not portraying things faithfully at some point. being hurt doesnt excuse you from hurting others. saying that caiti made mistakes too can coexist with her being hurt by what george did that night.

really well-worded anon and i think this last bit really sums up everything. Caiti was not a silent, non-moving piece of this situation. She was the one who consciously made the choice to stream, use that specific extreme language, initially withhold proof, not verify screenshot sources, not talk to george privately first, etc. and while she can be hurt by what happened and possibly have made poor choices in response to what happened, it does not absolve her of any responsibility for this chaotic fallout.

I don't think that is victim blaming, i think that's honestly just not convincing yourself that the way she handled this and the things she did were perfect.