#actually mind bogglingly good

[dolotonglo]

hiiiii sobbing and crying qnd wailing everyolwuerw ive made this post on like three different platforms but i just finished garden story and i actually cant handle how fucking GOOD that game is, its actually my new favorite of all time. anyone that likes indie pixel/rpg/cozy indie games (UTDR FANS IM LOOKING AT YOU) NEEDS to play it. adorable graphics, stellar soundtrack, and heartwarming story. you will not regret it.

[buckingham-ashtray]

Not Them still haunting me even on my hike.

More than one hundred miles away from home and I am still unable to escape Them. Not even physically.

I can't anymore. THEY WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE.

(watch me lose my absolute mind in the tags💀

[lanshappycorner]

Some more silly leo/kano doodles ft cecil/cesenn

[jedi-valjean]

I can’t believe y’all actually like Scrooge 2022 all they did was yassify a perfectly good musical adaptation that already existed

[qqueenofhades]

AAAAHHHHHHHH It's TIM! 1000% strong MN girl here and boy it's been real fun to watch Tim (and Peggy! Our amazing lieutenant governor) take a small small Democratic majority and do incredible things. My kid ate two meals at school every day for free. DELIGHTED that he's the VP pick. LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Listen, I am just ECSTATIC. Ever since I seriously became tuned into the veepstakes, he was my number one pick (I mean, I was not immune to the brief flirtation everyone had with Beshear/Buttigieg/etc), but yes. Walz was my top pick and I was trying desperately not to get my heart too set on him in case it fell through, but he was the obvious best choice of the contenders by a country mile. He has an almost absurdly Midwestern pro-America background (military veteran, public school teacher, football coach from a small rural town, etc) AND he has managed to enact a long list of progressive policies in Minnesota with a very narrow majority in the state legislature. Also, you're going to be seeing a lot of this video, for good reason:

Also.... let's be real, Shapiro would have been an incredible distraction/drag on the ticket, unfortunately. We don't need to deal with his retrograde views on Gaza and his other baggage, and while he is a very popular governor in Pennsylvania, it's less certain that his appeal would translate to other states. We can argue (or you know, let's not and move on) about whether or not that was fair, but this is just not the year to try to win the most critical high-stakes election ever by pissing off young voters. Shapiro has done plenty of good things and has time to develop his career further, but he would have been a BAD pick for 2024 and I was alarmed at how many Respected Pundits (tm) were pulling for him. Reuters even claimed that picking him would "defang Republican attempts to make Israel-Gaza a wedge issue for Democrats," which is such a mind-bogglingly stupid statement that it makes you wonder how anyone writing it actually got paid for their political insight, but it also explains a lot about mainstream media these days. Picking Shapiro would have been an absolute gift to the Republicans and bad-faith actors and others (plus like, I don't want to have to spend time winning back the young voters who are actually once more engaged in the process!) and would have led to the media eagerly jumping into the feeding frenzy (because they're desperate to have a reason not to cover Trump's increasingly crazy-ass shit) and other Democratic-on-Democratic infighting. And it goes without saying that WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT.

As well, picking Shapiro just because you need to win PA this election cycle is yet another example of why the Electoral College sucks, and the polling averages in PA have been moving solidly blue anyway. You can just park Shapiro there and have him campaign in the state as the sitting popular governor, rather than expose him to the liability of a nationwide campaign where, as noted, all the other stuff would be a drag. If it's true that the establishment was pushing Harris to pick Shapiro and she picked Walz instead, a) GOOD! and b) if anything, this election cycle needs to fucking teach us that we have got to stop going with the Conventional Wisdom Tee Em. Walz was already out there, he was already popular with the public/energizing the grassroots, AND he was the guy who coined the "Weird" attack line that is actually effective and organically popular against the Republicans and drives them batshit. So for Kamala to lean into that and take him as her running mate is... zomgz... smart, and I am not used to the Democrats playing smart and aggressive and not just passive-defensive. I don't understand. Wow.

Anyway, now watch the New York Times (and the others, lbr, but especially the NYT) desperately try to dig up scandalous stories about that time Walz didn't stop at the 4H booth at the county fair, or walked past someone without saying "Ope just gonna sneak by ya first" or some other terrible Midwestern sin, but fuck those guys. I am EXCITED I am ENERGIZED I am THRILLED. This is a GREAT new ticket that came together at incredibly short notice and completely changed the dynamics everywhere, Walz is gonna make JD Vance cry (unsure whether I want to see Harris demolish Trumpster or Midwestern Dad to turn the cranks on Weird Couchfucking Fascist Skidmark more, but both, both, both is good). LET'S GO GET THOSE WEIRD MOTHERFUCKERS, Y'ALL!!

HARRIS/WALZ 2024!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Also don't think anyone has said this (thats a joke) but like, art styles aside:

The animation, expressions, movement, everything of ATSV is IMPECCABLE.

Like insanely, ridiculously, almost mind bogglingly good.

[This is a MEDIUM length post]

The main strength is the Emotion -

In terms of animation, the range of emotions Miguel is capable of expressing is like... crazy good. Gwen's emotions ARE UNSPEAKABLY IMPRESSIVE.

LIKE...ANIMATING HER FUCKING BREATHING???? AND BLINKS!! AS AN EMOTIONAL CUE. HELLO???!!

And the movie hinges on this - almost every scene has an emotional cue that HAS to hit. Whether is Jess's looks of hesitation or Peter B.'s looks of horror.

And this may seem like the most ridiculous comparison ever made but like...

The Bee Movie and Across the Spider-Verse came out FIFTEEN YEARS APART.

THE BEE MOVIE...THIS MONSTRASITY that has plagued humankind - was made less than two decades from THIS:

The fact that we progressed that far as a society (pun intended) in that short of a time will never not baffle me.

I genuinely cannot name any other animated movie that:

Has multiple styles throughout the duration

Can seamlessly change styles without the viewer immediately noticing (like Gwen returning to her universe)

Show two or more animation styles on screen at the same time (and no, Roger Rabbit and Space Jam don't count - that's half live action lol)

Just off the top of my head - ATSV shows up to three styles in one scene: I'm mainly thinking of the scene that shows Hobie (customized - style 1), Peter B. (standard - style 2), and Miguel (a light stylized - style 3).

It can be brought to four if you want to count Miles/Gwen, though their style isn't visible.

I can think of a couple scenes that genuinely blew me away in terms of animation -

One being Rio's 'What-EVER?!' because of the little stance correction and head bob she does, because it's such a natural thing to do. And it adds so much to an already perfect line.

It's something someone would genuinely do IRL without even noticing.

Another I LOVE is Pavitr and Hobie roughhousing.

Like, I can't yell about these five seconds of animation more.

It's SO fluid it looks like Motion-Capture and I left the theatre googling is any Mo-Cap was used in the movie (and from what I can tell - no, it's all original animation).

The way Pavitr falls to the side and bumps them - This not only being a natural reaction to Hobie and his weight, but it also LOOKS natural. So much so you can see it affect Hobie's model too. The movement has kinetic energy on both models -

Which is AMAZING CONSIDERING THEY'RE ANIMATED ON LIKE FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES.

In this shot alone, there's the guitar, vest, AND Hobie, all of which have their own animation rules. Plus the outline on his guitar AND him. And then there PAVI too, who's running at a higher frame rate, touching and interacting with Hobie.

So much so that Hobie's model nearly wraps himself around Pavi. Pavi's hair is moving, Hobie's guitar is moving, there's movement in the background - and it looks GREAT.

PLUS THE CAMERA IS MOVING AND GOSTLING. IT'S NOT A STATIC SHOT. The models and camera are moving AS IF THEY'RE REAL when they're not.

That's - My..I CAN EVEN COMPUTE THAT.

But by far, I think the range of expression used on Miguel is like... Chef's kiss.

(of course I was gonna trick you into reading another post about Miguel. Uh-huh that's what's about to happen)

Like... are you kidding me?

NAH DEADASS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????

The whole later half of the movie hinges on Miguel looking buckwild crazy insane and they NAIL that. And like-

Oh my god what the actual fuck

?????????????????????????? I........ I have nothing to add. After that picture......Nah... LMAOOO

(left: actual photo of Moche watching this happen)

But Anyway chile, This movie is like.. genuinely a modern marvel.

If Marvel gave Tim Gunn 4 billion dollars and five years, whatever live-action rendition he would have made would not even compare to ATSV on any conceivable level - that's how good it is so jot that down.

And like...don't even get me started on Hobie..his design..his representation...girl I will start crying in this Arby's do not play with me

I just felt that needed to be said.

you get what I'm saying yall know what I mean iight coo

Here's a picture of Hobie to cleanse your palette.

Bye.

[raviollies]

actually no im gonna yap

im trying SO HARD to gaslight myself into liking veilguard but so many narrative choices just make me scratch my head. I AM NOT DONE, I currently gotta go to Weisshaupt.

I'll start with things I like so far:

1. I think the game is really pretty and I like the puzzles :) Antiva is GORGEOUS, I think one of the prettiest areas in the entire series.

2. I really like the Minrathous/Treviso choice. More of that please! some actual drama and consequence!

3. Assan is adorable and I cannot walk past without petting him. I didn't anticipate myself liking Davrin so much since I'm usually drawn to magic babies over warriors, but he's probably my favourite alongside Bellara. I think him having left his clan is very interesting narrative choice (I am totally not biased considering it's very similar to Daee's story)

4. Thank you lord almighty for the wardrobe/mirror system. Godbless.

5. Everytime Lucanis speaks I think of Puss in Boots and that brings me great joy. Whimsy even.

6. When you place Tevinter decor in the lighthouse, they have a Hookah right beside a fresco of Solas killing Mythal and that is mind bogglingly hilarious. I do love that the Shadow dragons know how to unwind. We're turning up after fighting for elf rights.

7. Solas surviving entirely on meat, raisins and honey feels very r/malelivingspace

Things I am Not Liking So Far

1.Minrathous feels utterly toothless. Its described as terrible, den of slavery, conversion therapy through blood magic, treatment of elves being terrible - yet we walk around unimpeded. I expected a similar experience as the Winter Palace, or fights that could be avoided if playing as a human.

LAVELLAN is introduced in the TEVINTER TAVERN, wearing TEVINTER CLOTHING, like it doesn't...make much sense to me? Inquisition set up the cross roads with Morrigan AND the Inquisitior, it feels like it would have made much more sense narratively not just from..."I am the fucking Inquisitor In Fucking Minrathous" but "Solas and the crossroads are a vital connecting point of these characters story."

Speaking of Inquisitor, wildly bizarre to me that neither Solas nor Varric comment on you meeting them. Solas has a weird painting of the Inquisitor chair, but you meet the mf face to face and he just does't acknowledge it. I am not a Solavellan player but I felt Really Bad For Them In That Moment.

I think a good moment of comparison is the difference in tone of DAI and DATV...When we find out the orb is elven in DAI, Solas warns us to keep it to ourselves, with Lavellan even remaking that the world will blame us for Corypheus. In DATV, we inform everyone that Elven gods are attacking, and there's no thought or conversation about the impacts of that on Elves in society. The only one to mention it is Davrin way after we've been spilling the beans left and right.

2. I'm not done the story but hey has anyone mentioned we haven't fought a single Fen'Harel agent, what's up with that... I expected to be fighting Elves based on the epilogue in Tresspasser but ?? ???

3. I'm sorry I HATE THEM DISREGARDING THE WELL OF SORROWS IN FAVOUR OF MORRIGAN WHEN SOLAS MAKES A HUGE DEAL OF YOU BEING TIED TO MYTHAL IF YOU DRANK FROM THE WELL. Oh sorry, if it was unimportant then why the fuck did you go on a monologue about how you're "her creature" and connected to her. It felt like a retcon of the importance placed on it in Inquisition and how much of a deal both Solas AND Morrigan make about it. I'm sorry picking a ROMANCE was more important than acknowledging THIS?? ? ??

"But Ravie, they can't account for Inquisitors personality and making them important would piss people off" then just kill them off. If they're set on Morrigan carrying this piece of narrative, I would have written the Inquisitor off the table before the choice becomes relevant. Have them help you in the ritual at the start of the game and die. I feel similarly about Varric, because he feels like the writers stuffed him in the closet to not talk which just...JUST KILL HIM. Its better than being relegated to furniture!!!!

3. Speaking of Morrigan why the hell is so nice. This is not my beautiful mean witch wife. In fact everyone is nice. Even hardened Lucanis has been polite to me.

4. I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH ROOK. I profoundly hate starting off friends with Varric (and him getting shelved like what was the point). It ruins a lot of initial RP for character establishment, because it limits how the player character FEELs about the whole thing, your motivations are GIVEN to you. Furthermore, it feels like rook HAS an established character. I don't feel like I got to play my rook, just say things slightly differently based on an already established character. I dont feel like I am roleplaying a custom character, just as Biowares stand in protagonist. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the level of interaction that BG3 provided me.

The opening sequence is bizarre to me, because IF I MAKING THE STORY....I would have had the introductory quests for each of the companions be the first quest based on the faction you select (Shadow dragons with Neve, Mournwatch with Emmerich, Crows with Lucanis etc. etc.) That way you establish your character based on the faction and immediately get a little tutorial on what kind of character you're going to be playing. I would even keep the introductory quests the same with minor dialogue tweaks. The ritual would come after the tutorial prologue mission and then you start with Harding and the companion you got introduced with, since the order you get them...really doesn't matter or impact anything.

5. I think the Venatori and Antaam following Elven Mage Gods is kinda dumb. Sorry. I thought they both looked down on them for being either Elves or Mages/didn't even acknowledge them. What the hell is their goal anyway

My criticisms comes down to...I don't know what themes the game is trying to tackle? The game SAYS things but doesn't actually do anything with these topics. Minrathous HAS a slavery problem but we don't see it. Treviso is ruled by a faction of assassins but it's like a good thing! Elven gods are responsible for everything wrong in the world, but the narrative implications of what that means for modern elves are acknowledged in passing like acknowledging the weather. The game feels hesitant to actually unpack any of these things despite being the one to put them on the table.

Anyway I am going to finish the game and probably play on Daee with a Solavellan Inquisitor to see if that improves my experience by picking a character who is more tailored to the Rook they portray/not having an emotional connection to the Inky, but atm...Man I Had Hopes. Made me feel stupid for getting so hyped up for a conclusion to a story arc for a character THEY SPECIFICALLY LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOR A DECADE. I'll just draw art, lie face down in the ground and imagine a more narratively satisfying conclusion to my Inquisitors story.

[wirewitchviolet]

I miss games conveying a sense of Bigness

As you know if you watch my twitch streams, I play a lot of games, and games from a lot of eras, and there's a whole bunch of industry trends you pick up on from certain time periods. The one I really feel like talking about was a definite thing from oh... 1998 through... 2010 or thereabouts? Basically the aughts, give or take a couple years. Or if you prefer, the first two Playstations' run and a bit of the third. It was a period where games in general were really committed to feeling Big.

It feels a little weird to say that when major releases are priding themselves on stuff like measuring how much disk space they need in terrabytes and maps that sprawl out everywhere, but that's not what I'm talking about here. Games trying to feel Big is more of an attitude thing, and ironically enough I'd say it fell out of fashion almost immediately when Open Worlds became the new big thing. We hit a point where people actually made the maps for their games super big (even if most of that space was just kinda vast stretches of unremarkable rocks) so there's no more need to fake it, right? But faking it was kinda great.

I was thinking about this a lot playing the Resident Evil 2 remake, and comparing it to the original PSX game. See the original Resident Evil was set in a spooky mansion out in the middle of nowhere, but RE2 was the Bigger Better Sequel. So now we have a zombie outbreak happening in a whole major city, not just this single mansion. And how do we accomplish that? Do we actually model hundreds of buildings and have a big meandering adventure through all of them, or even a good swath? No not at all. Let's compare the actual maps side by side...

[There WAS a full map of RE2 here it was causing the post button to bug out. Look it up on your own?]

It's a little bigger. There's maybe a dozen more total rooms? But mostly, it's a smoke and mirrors thing. We've still got one big primary location, an animal-filled hike to a side location and back, and an underground science facility, but it feels like we've increased the scope to an entire city. The first playable moments have us out on the streets of the city, objectively in a few quick hallways, but presented as streets packed with dozens of crashed cars, raging fires everywhere, dead bodies littering the streets, and what again feels like innumerable zombies feasting in scattered packs. Once inside, arms of several zombies outside will reach in clawing at you, or later in the game finally breaching through. The remake completely loses that feeling. It feels like there's maybe a dozen zombies out on the streets.

Not to focus on just the one game though. How about GTA3? Remember how even when you're just on the first island, it feels like you're exploring this vast sprawling city?

Here's a more elevated angle from about the same point. I'm looking at this with noclip.website by the way, it's a really cool little toy.

The actual map is LAUGHABLY small. But it FEELS huge. They were really careful to avoid straight roads, and place a couple big vision blocking buildings, even if they're basically just a cube or two so that when you're actually on the ground, it always feels like there's so much more around you. Have another side by side, and a rough estimate of what's visible on the ground in the bird's eye.

RPGs around this time were also having a lot of fun playing with scale comparisons. FF7 is the obvious go-to. The world map is on par with any other in the series, but Big Cities are presented as such, making it very clear that you're just seeing parts of a single district in Midgar, really just the main street in Junon. Dragon Quest 8 had this very bold idea to keep the same visual scale on the world map as in the streets of the towns, with forests made of actual individual trees.

And I'm not even getting into the biggest elephants in the room. Are you old enough to remember how mind-bogglingly sprawling Hyrule Field felt? Maybe a bad example when sequels have kept that focus on selling their worlds as staggeringly Big. Shenmue? Objectively, looking at this map, there's not much there, but damn if I don't feel like this was a real town I lived in for a while 20 years ago. It's the way the detailing gets finer and finer the closer you get to Ryo's bedroom, where you can open every drawer, turn on every light, turn that orange in your hand, you know? I believe that bus you take to the docks has to stop in several other neighborhoods like this one.

And of course, then there's the one other series, maybe worth mentioning, perhaps.

Years later I'm still just speechless.

Again though, I don't actually WANT games with worlds as big as some of these feel. There just isn't the time and the money and the ability for a creative team not to burn out to fully realize that in a handcrafted caring way. I want some kind of inverted Plato's Cave, where it feels like there's a vast breathing world out there, but I'm really in a small cozy space watching masters of the craft put on a shadow puppet show.

[fadelbison]

The 25th hour and the kindness Boston unwittingly pays forward to Sand

The 25th hour is such a neat yet complex concept. The fact that Sand's episode is called 'The Extra Hour' and that this extremely rigid, disciplined man's 25th hour is Ray is at once heartwarming and gut wrenching. I've seen multiple people discuss what the 25th hour is and most interpretations were to my surprise very positive! In fact, when I think back to my reaction to the start of the episode I thought it was delightful! What a delightfully irrational way for Sand to think of Ray's role in his life, for a delightfully irrational man who really needs a little bit of magic and fairy tale in his life. And yet by the end no matter how you slice it, the only thing about the 25th hour that stays absolute till the end is that it's not real. There's no such thing as a 25th hour. Whatever was happening between them was happening entirely within the 24 hours of their lives and neither were able admit to it. There is a separate meta to be written about how there are elements of healing in their relationship - definitely for Ray and maybe even for Sand who benefits from being near someone who prescribes to whatever the opposite of his 'The Grind and Hustle' lifestyle is. But there are two sides to every coin and the side that Sand had completely blinded himself to even thought it was all right there - long before Boston showed up - is that Ray is an addict. And the way Ray chases the pleasure impulse of Sand's company is - more than just a little mildly concerning. Both times that they engage in anything sexual is Sand giving and Ray receiving, but more importantly Ray talking Sand into it - not in any way that is even remotely close to coercive but doesn't it niggle at the back of your head a little - just how good Ray is at getting Sand to do things for him? I could let the list run from protecting him, cooking for him, driving him, putting on his helmet for him, dressing him, taking him to concerts all such wonderful beautiful, heartwarming, wounded inner child healing things and yet...there are patterns. 'Thank you for saving my life' once is beautiful, sexy, gut wrenchingly vulnerable. But twice?

The guy did have a bottle so it could have been dangerous and his target could have been Ray's head but he also could have smashed it on a table to scare him, on his back, heck he could have been going for Sand too. Doesn't Ray have a tendency to slightly embellish situations to make himself more sympathetic?

My boy Sand has literally been on the receiving end of it adjfkldshjf. Further, when Sand is aiming to bash the guy's head in turn Ray makes zero moves to stop him. Sand could get into a lot of trouble for intervening here and injuring a random customer while he's not bar security and P'Yo and her boyfriend are the only ones actually concerned about Sand here.

Ray is so turned on by his man going all psycho to protect him (understandable) that his only thought is to fuck him (also very very understandable) but he's just gotten so good at asking for it

Incredibly, incredibly good

And he knows how much Sand eats it up

He knows it turns Sand on, uses it repeatedly in the context of sex. In fact it's the only way we've watched him initiate sex this episode

And worst of all, in the times that Sand doesn't quite take the bait Ray knows how to frame it so that it somehow still becomes Sand's idea, Sand's initiative:

And this scene is so mind bogglingly sexy that I was legit SCREAMING because Ray is being SO sneaky and he's an addict and you can see it from a mile away and imagine being Sand and horny and turned on by how much people need you and then having the cutest puppy of a man constantly wagging his tail at you and needing you and being so generous about how much he appreciates you and constantly telling you how big and strong you are and how you're such a great protector like help this man he is so entirely caught in the web that Ray is spinning. I was so into it but I was also like alarm bells ringing like 'Fire! Fire! Fire!' Sand this is exactly the fire that you were once conscious of playing with but he's totally been blinded to it - how could he not be??? Ray is an addict but he's also a creature made entirely of love, what defenses can Sand possibly have against Ray's innocence and sincerity? This has already gotten so long that I need to stop here or my mind will explode but there's more to be said here about how that scene where Boston outs Ray's crush plays out and Ray's complete inability to reach out and comfort Sand. What I can end this part with is that - Sand really, really needed to hear it. Boston's whole 'Sand deserves to know' thing might have been the shittiest cover to his real motivations of just totally fucking up Ray's life but he's not wrong about this. Boston is not wrong about the farce of Sand and Ray's relationship that he so mercilessly calls out. The 25th hour isn't real and Sand knows it. The show is very heavy handed about it and it fits so goddamn well with my Sand and Mew don't exist on the same paradigm of Ray's life idea that I have been peddling since Ep2

[savyir-genesizz-the-wizard]

POLITICIAN FROM AN ANOTHER TIMELINE - "Actually, mister Harrier, I *can* *shred on the keyboard, disco style*"

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - This man can't lie. Also he wouldn't, if he could. He likes *shredding on the keyboard, disco style*.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - And he has been told that he's *incredible* at it. He has very long fingers, is a bit of a social shut-in, has a great memory. He's like, mind bogglingly good.

PHYSICIAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] - Past brain injury made him neurologically disabled. But he still has it.

RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] - He must have miscalculated something *terribly* at some point of his life.

SHIVERS [Impossible: Success] - Tomorrow it *will* rain.

----------

My oc, Azya Zaavim, in Disco Elysium 🪩

[elitadream]

What made Bowser hate Mario in the first place? What were his reasons for hating the red plumber? Like what got him to the point that he wants to make him suffer and everything? :o

On surface level, Bowser despises Mario because the man is both infuriatingly stubborn and an insultingly good opponent.

Deep down, however, he can't stand how this makes him feel.

He would never admit it, not in a million years, but Mario's goodness of heart is something that he's incessantly perplexed and troubled by. The man is an enigma that he doesn't understand, a puzzle that he just can't put together. In Bowser's view, everything is about power, and anything that directly contradicts that simply doesn't make sense. For someone to do all that Mario does and still be so mind-bogglingly humble and compassionate has him feeling completely stumped (self-conscious, even), and he hates it. He hates it viciously.

So he responds to that confusion and bitterness the only way he knows how: through aggression and contempt. Burying his insecurity beneath layers upon layers of scorn and sadistic glee, if only to distract himself from what he knows is actually envy.

Because Mario has something that he cannot take or possess. A spark, an undefinable truth that makes him shine and sets him apart from everyone else.

By simply existing, Mario fundamentally challenges this feeling of control and superiority that Bowser is so fiercely attached to; hence why the Koopa King wants to get rid of him in particular.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Outta Time

So @littlesmartart and I discovered that we both love Orville Peck, and I decided it might be nice to write Western Cowboy shit that isn't the Brokeback Mountain AU so here's this 😂 Inspired by Orville Peck's song 'Outta Time' from the album Bronco (Jess came up with the plot, I wrote it, and she's drawn art to go along with it for the visual that's directly inspired by the song [and that was all I had in mind for this before she came up with the plot lol]!)

--//--

It was, perhaps, foolishness on Meng Yao’s part to think that Huaisang was telling him nothing but the unvarnished truth when he’d invited him to head out West with him for a luxury vacation, set to last the entirety of their summer break.

“It’ll be like one of those fancy retreats silly rich people go on!” he’d insisted (as if he isn’t mind-bogglingly ridiculous and wealthier than Meng Yao could ever hope of being [considering he’s only just recently been forced to accept he’ll never see a single iota of his father’s support, emotionally or financially]). “Trust me!”

Mistake number 1 had been saying, “Alright A-Sang, I trust you.”

Mistake number 2 : being a man of his word.

Within a month of receiving Huaisang’s invitation, summer arrives with rolling peals of thunder heralding oppressive humidity and swarms of mosquitos. Meng Yao, a man of his word as stated, dutifully packs most of his belongings into a suitcase that weighs far less than the upper limit of the airline’s luggage weight restriction and navigates the pair of them through the airport with minimal stress, mainly thanks to not allowing Huaisang to be in charge of anything at all.

He chats with Huaisang on and off throughout their flight to keep himself distracted from the fact that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known to spend three months in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at his only friend’s brother's ranch, which Huaisang had only told him the full truth about yesterday, after it was already far too late to gracefully back out. Meng Yao’s promised luxury vacation destination is apparently in actuality a cattle ranch that Huaisang’s brother apparently runs mostly to keep himself in shape and avoid the stress of city life that had given him a heart attack at the ripe old age of 27 a few years back. (It is, by far, the weirdest ‘so I have this older brother’ story that Meng Yao has ever heard.)

“So this brother of yours –” Meng Yao finally caves and asks about an hour before final descent.

“Uh-huh?”

“He just…up and left New York. For Montana?”

“Yep,” Huaisang pops the ‘p’ and flicks to the next page in his magazine, unbothered, “After his heart attack he said he wanted to see some mountains and get some actual fresh air if he was just going to die soon anyway, it really dramatic and maudlin, which he never is, I was so proud. Only it turns out it was exactly what he needed to not die, so after a while he decided he would just stay out there for good. He bought the house and the land and some horses to give himself something to do besides stare at the sky all day, and then he was still kind of bored so he bought some cattle.”

Naturally. As one does.

“And now he’s…a cattle rancher. From New York City.”

Huaisang laughs and finally looks up from his magazine to smile at Meng Yao like ‘oh you sweet little thing’ in the way Meng Yao kind of hates, but Huaisang does it to everyone so he can’t really take too much offense.

“Yes, Yaoyao, you’ll understand when you meet him! Da-ge’s never really been a city guy, not like us. It suits him much better to be out here, especially since his best friend moved out here to help him out. Xichen-ge treats it like a meditation retreat but with a lot more mucking out stalls. He says even that part’s therapeutic, but I’m just going to take his word on that one, ‘cause ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

Huaisang leaves him to consider just what the hell he’s gotten himself into for the rest of the flight, and then they’re navigating their way (ridiculously easily) through the rinky-dink airport hardly bigger than a parking garage, the sky beyond the terminal windows blue blue blue where it stretches on forever in every direction.

“Da-ge!”

Meng Yao barely manages to snag Huaisang’s duffel when his friend flings it off his shoulder to go sprinting across the 3-carousel baggage claim, the fastest Meng Yao has ever seen him move. It’s a distinct relief that Meng Yao can use juggling their bags as an excuse to approach at a much more respectable pace; he needs the extra time to truly digest what he’s seeing.

Huaisang, as a former-model-turned-fasion-designer who happily calls himself a fruit at every opportunity, is one of the daintiest men Meng Yao has ever met. He’d even go so far as to call him a dandy, if pressed, and fully supports his friend’s decision to call himself every ‘emasculating’ label under the sun with obvious relish. He can’t deny that at least some of his confusion as to his best friend’s mysterious older brother’s chosen lifestyle stemmed from picturing someone like Huaisang, if perhaps a little taller.

He’s not confused anymore.

The man who catches Huaisang midair and swings him in a circle before setting him back on his feet would never be asked to grace the runways of New York — not because he isn’t beautiful enough to make Meng Yao’s fingers twitch for his camera to capture the way the sun cuts across his weather-tanned face, but because no one has ever heard of a fashion model who was roughly 6’7” and perhaps 300 pounds of solid, clearly functional muscle.

Huaisang’s brother towers over everyone else in the building that Meng Yao can see (and he can see most of them, re: rinky-dink airport in the middle of bumfuck Montana), and when he looks over the heads of the few people between Meng Yao and the exit their eyes lock instantly.

“A-Sang, be nicer to your friend,” Meng Yao can hear from here, a bass rumble that Does Things to his chest. “Go get your bag, don’t make your guest carry your shit or he’ll think I never taught you decent manners. Go on.”

Huaisang flutters back over and takes his bag with an unapologetic grin. Meng Yao finishes taking the ten-odd steps necessary for the brother to stick his hand out with a wry little smirk and say, “Hey, I’m Mingjue.”

“Meng Yao,” he replies and slides his hand into Mingjue’s dry, work-calloused palm.

“Welcome to big sky country, A-Yao,” Mingjue replies with a widening smile, a flash of straight white teeth and a dimple hiding under his mustache, and Meng Yao regrets to say that he’s thoroughly fucked.

–//–

The land unfolds around them as they drive down straight roads at an almost leisurely pace through miles and miles of…nothing.

Not nothing, Meng Yao supposes, but long gone are the corridors of towering skyscrapers, the lingering miasma of so many people living together in tight quarters, everyone building up up up to stack ever-more people into the same few square miles. Meng Yao understands, suddenly, why Mingjue had come here and stayed. He doesn’t think he has it in him to eschew all the conveniences of New York City for the open country, but someone like Mingjue seems like the type to appreciate having the space to…expand. To be bigger than life and have the room to do it in. He certainly feels larger than life at the moment as he details for Huaisang all the comings and goings on the ranch since he’d last visited, as he talks about the horses and his cattle and the monsoon rains they’d apparently only just missed that had finally turned everything summer-green.

Meng Yao sits on the bench seat of Mingjue’s beat up old pickup truck and watches the sparse scattering of fluffy white clouds drift over more sky than he’s ever seen in his life and he gets it.

He hasn’t gotten nearly enough of his fill of marveling (subtly) over the view by the time they pull off the road onto a dirt road that Huaisang tells him is actually Mingjue’s driveway, but he contents himself with the knowledge that they’re here for three months, he’ll have plenty of time to appreciate the view later. They rattle over a few metal grates Mingjue explains are cattle guards to keep the animals from escaping the ranch should they manage to break out of their pastures, and Meng Yao isn’t a child so he doesn’t exclaim about how fucking huge the cattle are some distance away from the road where they’re grazing (but he certainly rethinks his half-baked desire to see them up close anytime soon).

“Home sweet home,” Mingjue announces when they reach the end of the lane after another mile or two and opens his door with a creak. Meng Yao leans forward to look up at the house through his lashes and must not be able to control his expression as much as he’d prefer as Huaisang chuckles at him a little, nudging him in the side with his pointy little elbow.

“Told you it was nice,” he chirps and slides across the seat to get out on the driver’s side. “Da-ge be careful!” he trills, his nervous fretting muffled as he scurries around to the bed of the truck. Meng Yao doesn’t pay attention to their bickering or the scuffle of hard-soled boots on dirt, though his attention is snagged at least a bit by the sound of Mingjue laughing at whatever he’s just done to make Huaisang whine at him.

The house is beautiful, is the thing. Somehow he hadn’t thought that it would be, perhaps owing to how many times he’s listened to Huaisang complain about his brother’s lack of taste for anything even remotely fashionable. He should really stop assuming things about Mingjue, he supposes, considering he’s currently scored 0 for 2, and he hates to lose.

He gets out of the car, finally, to better appreciate white-washed wood paneling just beginning to show hints of weathering, blue shutters clearly freshly painted the same shade of the sky overhead with the front door painted to match. There are rocking chairs on the wraparound porch, clearly well-loved if the flattened, sun-faded cushions on them are anything to judge by, positioned to face west. He has a sudden mental image of Mingjue sitting out here in the evenings to watch the sunset over the mountains looming in the distance and has to shake himself all over once (discreetly) to keep from sticking himself in the chair next to him in this little pastoral fantasy. That’s just making it weird.

“You want the grand tour or you wanna settle in?” Mingjue asks; Meng Yao doesn’t jump to find himself standing next to his host he hadn’t heard approaching, but he does feel suddenly…shy in a way he’s definitely not used to. He tilts his head enough to squint up at Mingjue, the sun too bright in his eyes, and finds to his dismay that he’s still just as handsome as he’d been an hour ago.

“I want you to give him the tour!” Huaisang calls from where he’s petting a horse (an actual horse, but are they supposed to be that tall??) that’s come up to the fence at the other end of the front yard, such as it is, to duck down and nose at Huaisang like an old friend.

“I don’t care what you want, you little brat,” Mingjue calls back. “And don’t you dare give that beast whatever candy you’ve got in your pockets, do you know how long it took to train him out of biting people who didn’t give him any after you left?!”

Meng Yao hides a smile behind his hand and finds himself mostly glad that there’s someone else around now to be the recipient of Huaisang’s incessant whining when he’s really putting on a performance. He clears his throat a little and schools his expression back towards pleasant neutrality when Mingjue looks down at him again, clearly unwilling to entertain his brother’s antics a moment longer than necessary.

“I think I’d like to settle in first,” he allows himself to say, and is perhaps mildly startled when Mingjue doesn’t question it, when he simply nods and lets Meng Yao be that tiny bit selfish.

“Come on in then, your room’s upstairs.”

Meng Yao follows Mingjue inside out of the sun and finds himself surrounded by an eclectic mix of antiques and modern minimalism; framed photos and bric-a-brac piled up in out-of-the-way corners of sleek monochrome shelves hemmed in on every side by enormous, dense furniture of the sort that reminds him of a time at least half a century ago, if not longer. The result is antiquated in a charming way with enough touches of modernity that he doesn’t think Mingjue is necessarily out of touch, just pragmatic about his home. If something old will still do, why replace it? It’s a mentality Meng Yao can appreciate, and he finds himself smiling a little again as he trails behind Mingjue up the stairs and down the short hallway to the room in the back corner.

“Here you go,” Mingjue says and slings both Meng Yao’s and Huaisang’s bags off his shoulder, which is precisely when Meng Yao realizes he’d been carrying their luggage in one hand like it weighs nothing. He notices it, allows himself two seconds to admire it, and promptly tucks that little tidbit away for future consideration. Later.

“I’ll be around, just holler if you need anything. I’m sure A-Sang will be in to bother you once he’s finished saying hi to the herd, I’ll let you enjoy the quiet while you’ve got it.”

“Thanks, Mingjue,” Meng Yao says with a smile, and it might be a moment of wishful thinking, or just his imagination, but he swears he sees Mingjue’s gaze drop to his mouth for a beat too long before the man nods and retreats. Meng Yao has no way to know if the flush on the back of Mingjue’s neck is from the sun or, maybe, something else.

–//–

Huaisang does come inside eventually, and though he has his own unpacking to do Meng Yao isn’t surprised at all when his friend comes to his room first to flop onto his bed and promptly make himself at home to start bugging him.

(He wouldn’t want or expect anything different.)

As Meng Yao hangs up shirts and trousers with far more care than they probably need, Huaisang regales him with stories from other trips to the ranch and a quick run-down of the personalities of the horses Mingjue keeps, both his own and some he boards for others who can’t keep their own animals for whatever reason. Meng Yao makes enough leading, noncommittal noises to keep his friend chattering as he settles in, though the chatter becomes decidedly less pleasant as far as background noise goes when Huaisang starts talking about getting Meng Yao to socialize.

Within moments it’s clear he already has a plan on how to do so, because of course he does, and of course it’s some stranger’s houseparty where Meng Yao will know absolutely no one at all.

“Absolutely not, Huaisang,” he says tartly, but of course Huaisang only takes that as an invitation to persuade him.

“This isn’t like parties back home, A-Yao, I promise!” he wheedles. Meng Yao just goes on unpacking his meager belongings into the antique dresser in the corner of his room that holds a window overlooking the equipment-littered space between the back porch and the horse barn, and he very pointedly does not rise to Huaisang’s bait. He’s still not immune to his best friend’s cajoling and they both know it, but he feels the need to deny him a little longer for the sake of his pride, if nothing else.

“Nothing here is like home, Huaisang, your argument is invalid,” he replies blithely and debates the merit of hanging his undershirts in the too-big closet with the rest of his clothes, rather than folding them up into a too-big drawer where they’ll just look sad on their own.

“Okay point taken, but seriously! You’ll have a nice time, it’ll be chill, I swear. Xichen-ge is coming, and he never goes anywhere things will get out of hand!”

A party tempting enough to interest Huaisang is typically guaranteed to be anything but ‘chill’, he doesn’t point out, but…well. Meng Yao had just said it himself — nothing here so far is like what they’ve come from, maybe Huaisang’s different here too. Maybe a party’s really not such a bad idea. And if it is, Mingjue, having already overheard Huaisang mentioning the party on his way past Meng Yao’s room with a load of clean laundry in his arms, has already made it very clear that he’s happy to either loan them his truck for the night or else drive them himself. Considering Meng Yao has no interest in drinking so much he wouldn’t be able to drive (because he, unlike his best friend, is a very functional city gay who can drive, thank you very much) it’s a guaranteed exit strategy, should he feel the need to escape.

Meng Yao ignores Huaisang’s pleading eyes for a few moments longer simply for the fun of it as he slides his undershirts onto clattering plastic hangers, and only smiles once his back is turned as Huaisang shouts his delight when Meng Yao sighs, “Well…I guess I’ve got nowhere better to go.”

–//–

This time, Huaisang did tell him the unvarnished truth.

It’s clear from the moment they pull up in the warm violet twilight that this party is nothing like the ones they frequent back home. It’s in someone’s actual house, for one, which he supposes isn’t too strange when not being hosted in a city made entirely of apartments and highrises, but the house itself is in the middle of a giant patch of…nothing. It’s just a house on a dirt lot full of pickup trucks in various stages of rusting, with lights strung everywhere possible on the wraparound porch (except that it’s not really a porch so much as it is a prefabricated metal roof over part of the patch of dirt and sparse grass ‘yard’). He’s pretty sure he even sees a barn lit up the same way some few hundred feet behind the house, but he can’t get a good look at it from here and decides to put it out of his mind.

“Let me know if you end up needing the truck,” Mingjue says over the sound of twanging guitar coming from someone’s massive speakers as they hop down (well he steps down out of the truck like he’s just crossing a threshold; Meng Yao and Huaisang are too vertically challenged to get down out of the thing without at least a little hop). “I’m gonna head in to grab a beer, you two want anything?”

“We’re good, da-ge!” Huaisang chirps, already eyeing up a cluster of guys all dressed nearly identically in tight jeans and threadbare flannels with the sleeves cut off and the resulting gaping holes fraying artlessly, with the main differentiating factor between them being if they’re wearing cowboy hats or baseball caps. Meng Yao glances between his options — Huaisang’s all-too-familiar thirsting over extremely lackluster men who don’t deserve him and Mingjue’s retreating figure carving a path through the crowd — and decides to take his chances with the latter, though he hangs back a little to give Mingjue space.

The house, when he steps inside, at least smells pretty much like what he’s used to at parties. Too many competing colognes and perfumes, the sticky sweetness of alcohol, and the haze of cigarette smoke are almost comforting like this, even as he promptly gets lost amongst the sprawling, dimly-lit rooms crowded with strangers nursing beers or chatting (read: feeling) each other up in dim corners. He finds a staircase in the middle of the house and uses it to orient himself as he wanders in several clockwise circles until he’s mapped out the living room, the den, the kitchen where he snags a beer from the 6’5” cowboy (he’s assuming he’s a cowboy based on the hat and the whole ‘house party on a farm in Montana’ thing) standing at the keg, the door to the back ‘porch’ that’s about as porch-like as the one out front, and an overcrowded room that seems to serve no purpose but to be a place to play beer pong.

He’s just circled his way back to the front door near the stairs once again when he finds his path blocked by someone turned away from him; someone broad and tall and wearing pale blue, which just seems like a mistake when any moment could end in spilled beer and flustered mopping up with a crumpled handful of napkins, perhaps even the removal of said shirt to get it in the upstairs bathroom sink to soak out the stain before it sets —

Alright so it’s been a while and a man has needs, especially when surrounded by ridiculously tall beefcakes on every side. Sue him.

Rather than spilling his shitty beer on this guy to see if he can get him to take his shirt off, Meng Yao clears his throat and taps the guy on his waist once, just the lightest touch of two fingers to body-warmed cotton, and the guy turns smoothly, an apology already on his lips.

“Oh, excuse me,” he says, hardly audible over the music jangling from the beer pong room. Meng Yao tilts his head back a bit — and then a bit more — to meet the guy’s gaze and he’s startled to find he’s also Asian. It takes him roughly three seconds to put two-and-two together when the guy smiles at him like he knows him and ducks down to talk a little closer. Meng Yao makes a conscious decision to stay very still to let him do it.

“Might you be Meng Yao?” he asks and Meng Yao can only nod dumbly. “Mingjue sent me to find you, would you like to come sit with us? Da-ge’s great for commandeering the couch at these things.”

Sitting down sounds great, Meng Yao thinks, especially when the crowd shifts enough for him to catch sight of the ratty old sofa in the living room to find Mingjue currently occupying it alone, manspread more than far enough to make it clear that no one else is sitting on that couch unless he invites them (and he doesn’t look like he’s in a particularly inviting mood).

“Are you sure?” Meng Yao asks, wary, but the man (who must be Mingjue’s best friend, Xichen) just smiles at him again and tips his head in that direction, gesturing vaguely with one of his bottles of beer as if for emphasis.

“Of course! Come on, you’ve had a long day of traveling and I wanted to apologize for not being able to meet you at the house this afternoon. Just sit with us for a while, we’ll introduce you around later if you want us to.”

Meng Yao finds it a pretty tough proposition to say no to so he just nods again and gestures with his own beer (in a stereotypical red Solo cup he’d been amused to receive) for Xichen to lead the way. It isn’t so far that Meng Yao worries about losing him in the crowd, really, but he doesn’t let that stop him from hooking an index finger through the center back belt loop on Xichen’s skin-tight jeans, ‘just in case’.  Xichen simply smiles at him over his shoulder as they pass through the nearly-black front hallway and into the scarcely-brighter living room, red Christmas lights around the ceiling and the overhead bulb in the kitchen through the other doorway the only lighting for the entire room.

“Hey, there you are,” Mingjue says as they approach, and though he swings one knee closer to straight in front of himself to manspread a little less he leaves his arm slung casually along the top of the back cushions, reaching up with his free hand to snag the beer Xichen had brought for him and taking a swig of it as Xichen joins him.

On the opposite end of the couch.

Meng Yao hides behind a sip of his own flat beer quickly warming to room temperature as he contemplates the small (small) space between them and, between one disappointing sip and the next, decides he’s feeling reckless enough after a long day of new things and the freedom of traveling so many miles from home that he’s just going to go for it, and fuck the consequences.

Xichen slings his arm over the rest of the back of the couch, fingertips brushing lightly against Mingjue’s elbow where they overlap. Meng Yao sits down right in between them, settles in, and pointedly ignores the way the tired old couch springs squeak in protest of their combined weight and how he seems to pull the other two in like a magnet. It’s like gravity, centers of balance shifting and leaning inwards into his orbit, the pair of them bracketing him on either side, parentheses made of denim and muscle and smiling mouths that he pretends not to notice creeping closer as they keep finding excuses to lean in closer over the course of the next few minutes, not at all subtle. They drift in, in, in to talk to him over the music until they’re both practically kissing him on the cheeks just to be heard as they chat about nothing much at all.

Meng Yao finishes his beer and lets Xichen take the empty cup from him to set aside, and when he leans back in even closer than a moment before, Meng Yao offers him a coy little smile of the sort that’s weakened tougher men than Xichen seems to be and drops his newly-freed hand on his knee, mirroring the caress on Mingjue’s knee with his free hand on the other side.

It would be more than accurate to say that Xichen melts like butter — melts so obviously, in fact, that Mingjue laughs at him, hides it in Meng Yao’s shoulder, and seems to need no further excuse to just set up camp there so he can start nuzzling the tip of his nose into the crook of Meng Yao’s neck until he’s shivering pleasantly and feeling very much like the cat that got the cream.

Huaisang was right — this has never happened to him in New York, but he’s perfectly happy that it’s happening to him now.

–//–

Nie Huaisang isn’t the type to say ‘I told you so’ in so many words, mostly because he doesn’t actually say what he’s really thinking in the first place.

But if he were the type, he’d be saying it right now to anyone who would listen as he sips at a beer some jumped-up bull rider pressed into his hand with enough flustered used-to-be-definitely-absolutely-straight-but-now-he’s-confused flirting that Huaisang had given him an extra kiss or three to apologize for giving him a little sexuality crisis.

Maybe it’s weird for him to be so pleased to see his brother and his brother’s live-in-something tag teaming Huaisang’s own best friend, but, well. Meng Yao works way too hard for very little in return, and Huaisang thinks he deserves nice things. He’s certainly not immune to the ample charms of his brother’s farmer/rancher neighbors at least for a hazy summer, and he’d known that Meng Yao wouldn’t be able to resist either no matter how many fuck-off-I’m-totally-independent vibes he gives off when they’re back home.

Naturally if Meng Yao weren’t interested in sex Huaisang would leave him alone about it, but since he’s not he’d known perfectly well that there would be no resisting not one but two handsome men who could throw him over their shoulders as easily as they do bales of hay or sheep that need shearing. So, to that effect — the scene in front of him. Huaisang watches just long enough to see Xichen turn Meng Yao’s face to his with a gentle finger under his chin to coax him in for a kiss where they’re snuggled up all three together on the couch and then makes his escape to find his own fun for the night.

It’s already looking like it’s going to be quite the summer, and Huaisang basks in the pleasure of a plan well-executed with no one the wiser.

[gabbynyssa]

Oxventure fans keep showing interest in my ramblings about possible headcanons and like... I really wish I had any intent to write a fanfic...

'Cuz... Listen. My concepts for Corazón de Tortuga learning to love his new body and treat the sea better actually slot in really well into my idea for pirate queen "CorazMom Milquetoast" but I'm not a fiction writer... I've only ever had the ambition to make amateurish freeform poetry.

I am not 100% committed to that pun but I'm also not thinking of a better thing to call her at 4:20am.

Like... Imagine finally thinking everything in your life has slotted together. You're better as a person, you finally love yourself, you treat your second home and your friends/found family better(still sassy but all bark no bite). And then there's this person that you thought was gone and whose absence set the course of your life in motion here and she's not only completely unable to recognize you, but she's cooler than you in your own career field???

And then on the other hand... imagine you're, like... Lost in space for decades, slowly working your way up from basically just adrift with your "space comes down at night" oxygen supply hoping that somehow there's something to latch onto all the way up to full-blown queen of the star ocean. You're feared by foes and beloved by a fleet full of pirates. But you're still so listless underneath because you never quite found your way back to that odd disk you fell off of where you just know your awful ex can't have done a good job taking care of poor Percy.

Then there's this cat-man freelance pirate that happens to end up on your ship(let's say he was shot out of a canon onto her ship after Fury of the Black Rose). And he says something about you reminding him of one of his old Captains. A Captain around the age your son would be. A Captain who has a pet named Percy Jr.

When you're done shaking this very polite cat by the shoulders desperately asking where this Captain was he says the name of that disk you fell off of all those years ago, and he knows how to get you there. But then you get there and the guy Captaining his ship is a turtle???

And like... When all the fun drama settles you find out that not only did your ex fail spectacularly at being anything resembling a father, not only did your son find a family in the absence of the one you could've tried to build around him, and not only has that son accomplished so much with that family that they saved the world, but you also kinda missed his entire life and death?

And to anyone asking "but how did she not find a way back to Geth before Rust? There's even the adventurer exchange program that the other cat got to Geth thru, and remember that time intersimensional Amazon kidnapped Corazón and Dob and they were able to be shipped back?" Just remember: "Space," [the Hitchhiker's Guide] says, "is big. Really big. You just won't believe how vastly hugely mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist, but that's just peanuts to space." And in D&D "space" pirates actually travel thru something far more complex and big than space as we know it, despite the fact that most source materials only have them visit like ten key settings still.

[redsediment]

It’s so embarrassing when my coworkers have the most mind-bogglingly dog shit political views and I don’t know how to argue with them. Like I’m not a necessarily a Good Politics Haver or even a Good Person but what do you say to people who don’t even have a lick of awareness that war is bad and avoidable. What do you say to people that are so profoundly fatalist in their opinions that they decide to stop being vegetarian because ‘they won’t be able to change anything’.

I guess I’m just really angry at fatalism. I sort of think all people have a kind of moral responsibility to believe things can get better, or at least stop getting worse. I think about the sacrifices people have made for me to live as well as I do, and don’t I owe it to them to at least be grateful for that in some way?

And what I’m talking about, what I wish more people had, isn’t hope, isn’t optimism, isn’t determination. In my experience it’s hard to hold on to those things, and they often lead mostly to disappointment. Whatever I’ve hoped for, I’ve almost universally been let down. So many dreams and plans crushed within a moments notice—that’s life.

But it seems so hard to convince people that it’s worth believing that people are capable of good in any capacity, and it’s so frustrating because it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. People say shit like “oh they’ve been bickering for so long, why don’t they just fight,” and mean it, because they think there’s no end to the depravity of humanity other than death.

I think what leaves me totally unable to speak is that the very capacity for judgement that these people use to turn to despair is the same capacity that proves they are able to think morally, proves they are able to think above a simple fatalism. When people say ‘ah if only this were x,’ they are not talking about what is, nor are they just making stuff up. They’re thinking critically about possible realities, about the one we live in, and how it can change. But when they even notice they’re thinking about something outside their experience, they cower and give up, and reaffirm their stupidity and fearfulness.

It’s painful living in the liminal space between hope and despair. One is not able to look forward to anything, not even the regularity of disappointment. But I don’t know how else to feel like I am actually alive, actually aware that I am in the same world as other people, that I have the capacity to learn, that I am alive and that I can die—and that other people can too.

I’m afraid of death. I’m afraid of disagreeing with people. I don’t think I’ll change in this regard. But I might like to try.

[padfootastic]

Remus had some nerve accusing Harry of throwing his parents’ sacrifice aside, when a) Remus had no real way of knowing that Harry was aware Sirius posed a threat to him specifically because I’m pretty sure it’s just Arthur who informs him of this and not any of the teachers. To the teachers’ knowledge, all Harry knew was some guy broke out of Azkaban and wanted someone at Hogwarts dead, but none of them actually told Harry “hey, we think this guy wants you dead.” Like, they didn’t offer him any form of protection and he’s been in danger in the actual castle, why the hell would he automatically go “oh, Hogsmeade is totally where this guy will try to kill me, I should stay in the castle where a whole bunch of people are in danger every year and the teachers never actually do anything about this, I’ll be totally safe there.” There was a big-ass snake just roaming around the entire year before and the teachers accomplished precisely nothing in terms of protecting the students, Harry has no reason to believe he’ll somehow be safer there than in a literal crowd of people and with both of his best friends right next to him and thus capable of causing a hell of a scene if something happens to alert everyone nearby that Sirius Black is present and attacking Harry Potter. Sirius is good, but I’d put my money on the screaming capacity of two pissed off teenagers who just wanted some candy and butterbeer. B) Remus over here is literally helping Sirius, albeit unknowingly, by refusing to tell anyone he’s an animagus. Even if Remus wanted to believe Sirius was getting in some other way, he’s still risking the lives of everyone in the castle because he doesn’t want to disappoint Dumbledore. I can see why they didn’t trust him in the First War, he keeps secrets even when he knows he is putting others at risk. The guy believes Sirius is a Death Eater, a spy, and Voldemort’s second-in-command who is poised to take control of the rest once Harry is dead, and yet he is just staying silent on the matter. Horrible AU where Sirius really was a traitor the entire time and Remus’s silence damns everyone, Voldemort comes back some other way or Sirius just kidnaps Harry for LV so V comes back later

no but that first part!!! i remember reading a fic? post? ab it that literally no one thought about telling harry wtf was going on (story of his life, really) and remus definitely didn’t try. so for him to say what he did? TO AN ORPHAN???? it’s mind bogglingly cruel and i rly wonder why it’s so overlooked. and the fkn audacity to do it when he’s the one disrespecting jily’s sacrifice by giving their alleged betrayer access to their son???????

i’m also afraid that in this Horrible AU, it would do absolutely nothing except send remus into a self pitying guilt spiral guaranteed. nothing more concrete than that.

[heliianth]

actually bc im never gonna shut up abt it while im still on this im gonna ramble abt botw and totk and maybe how i wouldve written a sequel . & i will pay u money to listen i promise

my favoritest of totks ideas are what it expands from botw. botws whole atmosphere is drowned in quiet mourning. something bad has happened but it was a long time ago. it still hurts but theres nothing to be done now but move forward. something is still missing but all you can do is find something else. nobody has resources to rebuild and you can hear deafening echoes of better times but the alternative is giving up. you are in this frozen state of not quite moving on and not quite in despair. like the numbness stage of grief. and the pivotal element of all of that is that link is alone. like, oppressively alone. its the primary vehicle of conveying this mood. and its interesting because this can be read not only as what link is experiencing through the player but what zelda is feeling as she holds back ganon. its an interesting contrast to have zelda mature faster than link in the flashbacks, only for link to pull her the rest of the way by growing himself

and the reason why i so strongly adore the light dragon aspect of the plot is because it shows how attached to everything zelda has gotten. arguably, zelda held back ganon in botw because she loved link. in totk, she becomes the light dragon because she loves hyrule, which had previously been so unimaginably cruel to her. the crux of her character is learning that attachment is good. loving is good. you deserve to leave an imprint on the world in a shape of Your choosing instead of being another factory print on a paper. on a surface level, shes making the same choice, but the motivation and growth behind it is really powerful

i could waffle for literally ever about all that and the point is that totk takes these ideas and implements them really well through in-game worldbuilding and specifically zelda turning into the light dragon. i would occasionally get extremely emotional just seeing how things have expanded because it feels like the world is finally moving on. theres a catharsis in seeing hyrule finally heal after knowing its desolation so intimately, especially because the state of the land itself is such a strong parallel to the arcs of the two main characters, so you get the sense that not only can people move on, link and zelda specifically have started to as well. thats my favorite part

thats why i think its an odd choice that they decided on a time travel plot. if zelda HAS to be the one getting saved, if she cant be a companion in some way either via sheikah facetime or spirit tracks shenanigans or whatever, there are lots of ways to do this without her being magic fruit snacked ten bajillion years into the past. why spend all this effort intertwining her and link with the land, only to remove her from the equation and have no further growth? in botw its understandable that hyrule is stagnant and only changes when link does because zelda is stagnant and link is doing the one changing during the game. in totk its the opposite. there are lots of ways to do this with out Having to play as zelda (though honestly that would be the way id go about it)

also a lot of my own ideas have to do with the wasted potential of a place like the depths???? what the hell do you mean theres this mind bogglingly big cavern underneath the entirety of hyrule which mysterious people used to live in and it has almost no story relevance beside being a cool setpiece???????? I FEEL INSANE?!?!??!?!? there are so many good ideas in totk that never get expanded dude FUCK

i think no matter how much i speculate and draft my own preferences of how i wouldve liked totk to elaborate on the things it introduces i cant ever bring myself to present them like they couldve realistically happened and gotten thru the nintendo writing room simply bc of the games format. if it were up to me doing certain story missions would radically change the open world as events happened in real time and thats not the MO of the game's design philosophy. honestly totk's biggest enemy is the memory system and i need to kill it with fire