#all i can think of is that my B equation. the first one here. is wrong

[rangerbarbz]

Study Sessions

“Study Sessions”

Author’s Note: Had some time to start another blurb! (After reading Book of Bill I’m thinking about writing about Ford possessed by Bill idk) I hope y’all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think lovelies <3 EDIT: OH MY GOODNESS I DID NOT SEE ALL THE INBOX REPLIES I HAD I AM SO SORRRYYYY I HAVE SOME REQUEST IDEAS IN THERE I’D LOVE TO DO 

You had conquered every single class at Backupsmore with either an A or a B as your final grade. You wouldn’t say you were a genius by any means, but you took pride in your schoolwork and wished to graduate as soon as possible. This changed when you began taking physics. You had never been so stumped by a subject. The equations, the laws, and the Godforsaken labs were the bane of your existence. 

Your determined nature refused to let you fail, so you decided to ask your professor for help. He began doting on his star student Stanford Pines who had taken his class the previous semester and was excelling through the upper level classes. Your professor suggested reaching out to him because he had recently become a S.I. for the introductory physics and chemistry courses. He handed you a Post-It note with his name and the hours when he was going to be in the library. 

After your last class of the day, you strolled over to the library on campus, nervous for your first session. He was so smart and you were afraid that he would get frustrated with how little you understood this subject. You made your way to the S.I. lab on campus and tapped your knuckle on the wooden door that was open. There was no one at any of the tables, but there were scattered notebook paper scribbled on and a textbook open. 

“Hello?” you called, looking around for a sign of anyone. Suddenly, a head popped up from underneath the table. He had ruffled brown hair and black, square glasses. 

“Hello!” the man replied, getting up from the floor. “Sorry about that. I had dropped my pen before you walked in.” He then sat on the rolling chair and scooted it closer to the table. “I’m Stanford, but you can call me Ford. I assume you’re here for physics help?” 

You smiled. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Ford. Yes, I am here for physics. My professor recommended you to me.” You placed your backpack on the floor and sat in the chair beside him. “I just want to go ahead and warn you, I’ve had trouble in this class. I hope I don’t frustrate you too much.” 

Ford chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know you’re a smart girl. Do you have any homework that needs to be completed?” You felt your face become warm. Smart girl. You enjoyed him calling you that. There was nothing quite like academic praise to a scholar. 

“Uh, yes I do actually,” you answered, not letting your train of thought derail. You pulled your binder from the first pocket of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you two. “It’s ten problems, so if I miss more than three of them that means I have a D,” you continued as you removed the worksheet from the rings. “I am shooting for at least a C in the class overall.” 

He grinned at you like he was happy about doing physics. “Well, I believe you’re going to get no less than an A in that class.” You laughed at his confidence in you. 

“I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it, Ford,” you replied, twirling your pencil between your fingers. You gazed into his eyes; the sunlight from the window brought out hints of gold in his dark brown irises. Wow, they were so pretty.

He then cocked his head to the side. “Pardon? Did you just say ‘pretty?’” he asked with a smile tugging at his lips. 

Your face immediately became hot. Oh my God you spoke out loud not meaning to. Okay how do you save this conversation. You laughed nervously. “Pretty excited to start learning that is! Ha! Let’s get started, please. I can’t wait!” you exclaimed, all in one breath. 

Ford nodded. “What a great attitude to have, Y/N!” He then picked up his pencil and began to explain the first problem to you. He was so good at going into detail about every little thing. He was patient with you as well which was good because he kept on distracting you. 

The more you focused on him, the more features you noticed. His glasses had scratches on the wire rims, he had a prominent, square jaw, and he had unkempt sideburns. He was so damn good looking it made you want to study thermodynamics forever if it meant you got to look at him. 

You had actually gone through the homework quicker than you thought you would, so Ford asked if you would want to practice some extra problems on the blackboard. Of course you agreed. You walked up to the board ready to write whatever he threw at you but feeling self-conscious about being the center of his attention like this. He was still sitting at the table reciting the equation back to you while you stood out in the open. You then pushed your insecurity to the side in order to show him you had actually learned something today. He carefully observed you as you wrote, watching the cogs in your brain turn. He also was watching the way your face contorted in concentration and the way your fingers tapped against the chalk tray. 

“Alright. I think I’m done, Ford.” You moved to the side so he could see your final answer. 

He smiled at you, putting his hands on his knees to get up. “Let’s see what ya got,” he responded, walking over to stand beside you. You didn’t realize when he was sitting how tall he was compared to you or how broad his chest was. He began to mumble under his breath, making sure there were no mistakes present. “Everything looks good Y/N!” He then turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Look at what you accomplished in just this short amount of time! If you keep on coming to my sessions, I know you can get through this class without worry.” Ford paused and looked back at the board, hands held behind his back. “It would make me happy to see you succeed.” 

You beamed back at him. Would it be inappropriate to kiss him right now? 

You (obviously) continued going to Ford’s S.I. sessions because your grade improved with each one you went to. You had also spent some time outside of the library together  by doing some photography of the wildlife around campus while Ford doodled in his sketchbook. People usually clocked him as an introvert, but he was not like that with you. He had opened up quite a bit to you about his past and what he wanted to do in the future. 

Today, you had met Ford on a bench outside his dormitory after your physics class had let out to share some good news with him. “Ford!” you called out. He looked up to see you waving a paper marked with an A+ in red ink. “Guess who got the highest grade in the class on the test last week?” you squealed. 

“Yes!” Ford said triumphantly, standing up quickly to pump his fists in the air. His sketchbook fell to the ground with some of the loose papers coming out. “I’m so proud of you!” You put your hands on his strong shoulders and jumped up and down. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I’m just tickled pink right now,” you responded happily, bending down to pick up his drawings before the wind caught them. Ford’s face suddenly fell.

“Oh here I’ll get that,” he started, kneeling down on the concrete beside you. He was trying to pick up the papers that fell out as fast as possible, but you were faster. 

Your eyes grew wide as you picked up a paper with drawings of a woman reading a textbook, in a tree taking a picture of a bird, and one where she was just laughing. They were all you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at them. They were so beautiful. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I- I can explain,” Ford stammered. “I- I have…liked you for a while now. You just are always on my mind, so I end up drawing you sometimes.”

“I like you too,” you cut him off. 

His face was flushed beyond belief. “I, well, uh-” 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you stated. Ford’s eyebrows lifted as you closed the gap between you with a sweet kiss. He let out the tiniest sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering close. You held his face in your hands and separated your lips from his to see his reaction. He was still blushing with a goofy smile on his lipstick stained face. 

“That was nice. Should’ve done that sooner,” he joked. You giggled and began to kiss him rapidly on his cheeks and forehead. You had left red stains of your lips with each smooch you gave him. 

“Yeah, you should have, smart guy.” He rolled his eyes and held your chin between his thumb and index finger to pull you in for another kiss. You smiled against his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell Fiddleford about this,” Ford murmured. 

“ And I can’t wait to see Fiddleford’s reaction to my assault on your face,” you laughed.

[physicallyimprobable]

what's the 3-dimensional number thing?

Well I'm glad you asked! For those confused, this is referring to my claim that "my favorite multiplication equation is 3 × 5 = 15 because it's the reason you can't make a three-dimensional number system" from back in this post. Now, this is gonna be a bit of a journey, so buckle up.

Part One: Numbers in Space

First of all, what do I mean by a three-dimensional number system? We say that the complex numbers are two-dimensional, and that the quaternions are four-dimensional, but what do we mean by these things? There's a few potential answers to this question, but for our purposes we'll take the following narrative:

Complex numbers can be written in the form (a+bi), where a and b are real numbers. For the variable-averse, this just means we have things like (3+6i) and (5-2i) and (-8+3i). Some amount of "units" (that is, ones), and some amount of i's.

Most people are happy to stop here and say "well, there's two numbers that you're using, so that's two dimensions, ho hum". I think that's underselling it, though, since there's something nontrivial and super cool happening here. See, each complex number has an "absolute value", which is its distance from zero. If you imagine "3+6i" to mean "three meters East and six meters North", then the distance to that point will be 6.708 meters. We say the absolute value of (3+6i), which is written like |3+6i|, is equal to 6.708. Similarly, interpreting "5-2i" to mean "five meters East and two meters South" we get that |5-2i| = 5.385.

The neat thing about this is that absolute values multiply really nicely. For example, the two numbers above multiply to give (3+6i) × (5-2i) = (27+24i) which has a length of 36.124. What's impressive is that this length is the product of our original lengths: 36.124 = 6.708 × 5.385. (Okay technically this is not true due to rounding but for the full values it is true.)

This is what we're going to say is necessary to for a number system to accurately represent a space. You need the numbers to have lengths corresponding to actual lengths in space, and you need those lengths to be "multiplicative", which just means it does the thing we just saw. (That is, when you multiply two numbers, their lengths are multiplied as well.)

There's still of course the question of what "actual lengths in space" means, but we can just use the usual Euclidean method of measurement. So, |3+6i| = √(3²+6²) and |5-2i| = √(5²+2²). This extends directly to the quaternions, which are written as (a+bi+cj+dk) for real numbers a, b, c, d. (Don't worry about what j and k mean if you don't know; it turns out not to really matter here.) The length of the quaternion 4+3i-7j+4k can be calculated like |4+3i-7j+4k| = √(4²+3²+7²+4²) = 9.486 and similarly for other points in "four-dimensional space". These are the kinds of number systems we're looking for.

[To be explicit, for those who know the words: What we are looking for is a vector algebra over the real numbers with a prescribed basis under which the Euclidean norm is multiplicative and the integer lattice forms a subring.]

Part Two: Sums of Squares

Now for something completely different. Have you ever thought about which numbers are the sum of two perfect squares? Thirteen works, for example, since 13 = 3² + 2². So does thirty-two, since 32 = 4² + 4². The squares themselves also work, since zero exists: 49 = 7² + 0². But there are some numbers, like three and six, which can't be written as a sum of two squares no matter how hard you try. (It's pretty easy to check this yourself; there aren't too many possibilities.)

Are there any patterns to which numbers are a sum of two squares and which are not? Yeah, loads. We're going to look at a particularly interesting one: Let's say a number is "S2" if it's a sum of two squares. (This thing where you just kinda invent new terminology for your situation is common in math. "S2" should be thought of as an adjective, like "orange" or "alphabetical".) Then here's the neat thing: If two numbers are S2 then their product is S2 as well.

Let's see a few small examples. We have 2 = 1² + 1², so we say that 2 is S2. Similarly 4 = 2² + 0² is S2. Then 2 × 4, that is to say, 8, should be S2 as well. Indeed, 8 = 2² + 2².

Another, slightly less trivial example. We've seen that 13 and 32 are both S2. Then their product, 416, should also be S2. Lo and behold, 416 = 20² + 4², so indeed it is S2.

How do we know this will always work? The simplest way, as long as you've already internalized the bit from Part 1 about absolute values, is to think about the norms of complex numbers. A norm is, quite simply, the square of the corresponding distance. (Okay yes it can also mean different things in other contexts, but for our purposes that's what a norm is.) The norm is written with double bars, so ‖3+6i‖ = 45 and ‖5-2i‖ = 29 and ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90.

One thing to notice is that if your starting numbers are whole numbers then the norm will also be a whole number. In fact, because of how we've defined lengths, the norm is just the sum of the squares of the real-number bits. So, any S2 number can be turned into a norm of a complex number: 13 can be written as ‖3+2i‖, 32 can be written as ‖4+4i‖, and 49 can be written as ‖7+0i‖.

The other thing to notice is that, since the absolute value is multiplicative, the norm is also multiplicative. That is to say, for example, ‖(3+6i) × (5-2i)‖ = ‖3+6i‖ × ‖5-2i‖. It's pretty simple to prove that this will work with any numbers you choose.

But lo, gaze upon what happens when we combine these two facts together! Consider the two S2 values 13 and 32 from before. Because of the first fact, we can write the product 13 × 32 in terms of norms: 13 × 32 = ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖. So far so good. Then, using the second fact, we can pull the product into the norms: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖(3+2i) × (4+4i)‖. Huzzah! Now, if we write out the multiplication as (3+2i) × (4+4i) = (4+20i), we can get a more natural looking norm equation: ‖3+2i‖ × ‖4+4i‖ = ‖4+20i‖ and finally, all we need to do is evaluate the norms to get our product! (3² + 2²) × (4² + 4²) = (4² + 20²)

The cool thing is that this works no matter what your starting numbers are. 218 = 13² + 7² and 292 = 16² + 6², so we can follow the chain to get 218 × 292 = ‖13+7i‖ × ‖16+6i‖ = ‖(13+7i) × (16+6i)‖ = ‖166+190i‖ = 166² + 190² and indeed you can check that both extremes are equal to 63,656. No matter which two S2 numbers you start with, if you know the squares that make them up, you can use this process to find squares that add to their product. That is to say, the product of two S2 numbers is S2.

Part Four: Why do we skip three?

Now we have all the ingredients we need for our cute little proof soup! First, let's hop to the quaternions and their norm. As you should hopefully remember, quaternions have four terms (some number of units, some number of i's, some number of j's, and some number of k's), so a quaternion norm will be a sum of four squares. For example, ‖4+3i-7j+4k‖ = 90 means 90 = 4² + 3² + 7² + 4².

Since we referred to sums of two squares as S2, let's say the sums of four squares are S4. 90 is S4 because it can be written as we did above. Similarly, 7 is S4 because 7 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 1², and 22 is S4 because 22 = 4² + 2² + 1² + 1². We are of course still allowed to use zeros; 6 = 2² + 1² + 1² + 0² is S4, as is our friend 13 = 3² + 2² + 0² + 0².

The same fact from the S2 numbers still applies here: since 7 is S4 and 6 is S4, we know that 42 (the product of 7 and 6) is S4. Indeed, after a bit of fiddling I've found that 42 = 6² + 4² + 1² + 1². I don't need to do that fiddling, however, if I happen to be able to calculate quaternions! All I need to do is follow the chain, just like before: 7 × 6 = ‖2+i+j+k‖ × ‖2+i+j‖ = ‖(2+i+j+k) × (2+i+j)‖ = ‖2+3i+5j+2k‖ = 2² + 3² + 5² + 2². This is a different solution than the one I found earlier, but that's fine! As long as there's even one solution, 42 will be S4. Using the same logic, it should be clear that the product of any two S4 numbers is an S4 number.

Now, what goes wrong with three dimensions? Well, as you might have guessed, it has to do with S3 numbers, that is, numbers which can be written as a sum of three squares. If we had any three-dimensional number system, we'd be able to use the strategy we're now familiar with to prove that any product of S3 numbers is an S3 number. This would be fine, except, well…

3 × 5 = 15.

Why is this bad? See, 3 = 1² + 1² + 1² and 5 = 2² + 1² + 0², so both 3 and 5 are S3. However, you can check without too much trouble that 15 is not S3; no matter how hard you try, you can't write 15 as a sum of three squares.

And, well, that's it. The bucket has been kicked, the nails are in the coffin. You cannot make a three-dimensional number system with the kind of nice norm that the complex numbers and quaternions have. Even if someone comes to you excitedly, claiming to have figured it out, you can just toss them through these steps: • First, ask what the basis is. Complex numbers use 1 and i; quaternions use 1, i, j, and k. Let's say they answer with p, q, and r. • Second, ask them to multiply (p+q+r) by (2p+q). • Finally, well. If their system works, the resulting number should give you three numbers whose squares add to 15. Since that can't happen, you've shown that the norm is not actually multiplicative; their system doesn't capture the geometry of three dimensions.

[thursdayinspace]

Soooo today's lunchtime smut contains no smut at all. It's also part of a WIP. Which didn't exist before I wrote this, but it does now. This is just feelings. Lots of them.

She’s been meaning to go home for the last hour or so. The fact that she’s still here, on his couch, feet on the coffee table, her body feeling sleep-heavy and her eyes closed…it might mean something or it might not. But here she is. He’s next to her mirroring her position, and she doesn’t think he’s asleep, she’d have heard him falling asleep from the shift in his breathing. It’s warm in here, and familiar. The walls around this house keep the world outside. That was their purpose when they bought it, and it is their purpose now, even if the reason for seeking shelter in here has changed.

She’s been meaning to go home, so why won’t her body move from this place?

When he rolls his head towards her to look at her she can feel it, and she looks back at him through half-opened eyelids and is powerless against the slow smile on her face. “I should go before I fall asleep,” she says, her voice low to fit the dim quiet of the room around them.

“You can’t drive like this,” he says, and something unravels in her chest. The last remaining tension seeps from her tired muscles.

“So it’s okay if I stay here tonight?” It wouldn’t be the first time. She still feels like she should ask. This thing between them has a name, but until one of them speaks it out loud, it has to remain vague. Undefined.

“Always,” he says, and she thinks about how his voice has changed since the day she met him all those many years ago. He’s not the same person, but at same time he is; he’s Mulder.

“Okay.” She closes her eyes again. The affirmation of right now is enough for the moment.

He gets up and she sighs; she was comfortable like this, with the warmth of him a steadying presence against her side. But then his arms slide underneath her shoulders, her legs. “Come on,” he says softly, and she blinks at him slowly as he lifts her.

“What are you—”

“We’re too old to fall asleep on the couch like this.”

Bed, then. She wraps her arms around him and leans her head against his shoulder. “I can walk,” she says, not expecting him to set her down, not wanting him to.

“I know you can.”

She feels small in his arms and it feels good. Out there in the world, she has to stand on tiptoe, spine straight, head raised high, making herself a giant. With him, she can let go. With him, she can be all the versions of herself that live inside her and he will look at her and know her.

“Thank you,” she says. For so many things. For letting her know him.

She thought she knew the ways in which the world could be known. Definable, quantifiable facts. Ever since she met him, he’s made her waver in her certainty. He never questioned the facts themselves, but from the start he asked the same thing over and over: How can you know?

This, them, what binds them together, is the greatest mystery of all. She has the words: love, friendship, loyalty, devotion. A neatly packaged set of ingredients that make up their relationship. But when she looks a little closer, she can’t define the words in any way that satisfies her scientist’s heart.

He kisses her hair and she breathes him in and she can’t put this into any tautological definition, any mathematical equation: a + b = c; Mulder + Scully = love. She can’t find a set of qualities that make up love. It just is. It’s in the way he looks at her, in the way her face breaks into a smile when he calls her, in the way it feels to kiss him. It’s in the way he carries her up the stairs to the bedroom.

“I have to brush my teeth,” she mumbles against his neck and he sets her down gently and follows her into the bathroom.

They brush their teeth side by side, the way they used to, and no time at all has passed since then, except the lifetime that lies between the day she left him and this moment. She has pajamas in one of the drawers of his dresser. She puts on one of his t-shirts instead.

When the lights are off she rolls into him, sticks her cold feet between his legs and rests her head on his chest. He holds her close and doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

She has no definition for home either.

His warmth becomes hers as she drifts on the edge of sleep. Nothing warms her like he does. She could be happy without him if she really tried. She could live a simpler life. He’s complicated, their life is complicated, and even though it would be possible, she doesn’t want to imagine anything else. She loves him with her entire heart.

“Mulder?” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I want to come home.”

He hugs her tighter and the beating of his heart under her ear remains slow and steady. “You are.”

She’d been meaning to go home. And she did. Maybe she knows the definition of the word, in all the ways that matter.

[soulfulazrael]

Stolas and Stella. Shallow conflict that could be so much more. Conflict of two Hells and torment of the immortal.

So... another post that probably will be another long Yap fest of a weirdo who has only the brainpower to make threads on a cartoon. Eh. Could be worse. My drive to make this post was sparked by this one image (or well... two).

Great... Very subtle... Deserves a medal don't you think? Ah well. Today's subject as you can tell from the image presented here is RELATIONSHIPS! Or rather one set of relationships that has been bothering me and inspired me to do better in my own work based on this show. This disaster that is the Stella/Stolas/Octavia dynamic is one huge problem in my eyes and I will explain that below with some thoughts of mine and why this particular image sparked such vitriol in my peanut brain.

I think the biggest and most noticeable problem that can be seen straight away in this one picture and entire show that... it is just so damn simple. Way too simple and 1 dimensional which this show tries to parade as something meaningful and deep. I mean one look at it and you can see all of the problems. Stella is made into a laughing all evil bastard. Octavia FOR SOME REASON is just angry at Stolas and makes a mean face which makes no sense given how they interact. And Stolas is presented as some tragic, deeply hurt figure when he is in fact the architect of most of his own miseries, but the show seems to believe in that horseshait.

And at first one who only has this picture as any sort of context may say that "It's okay. The wife is obviously an evil capital B, but the daughter in this whole equation adds to the complexity and the feeling of that the dad also screwed up heavily".

Except to anyone who actually watched the show this makes no sense because Octavia has literally NO reason to ever side or ignore her mother's stupid and malicious behavior. It's one thing where you want to include a complex dynamic where the sides are more blurred and another where you make one side so obviously WORSE. Not to mention stupid and seemingly unable to hide any of their douchebaggery.

And it's another issue of the show as a whole where it just cannot for the life of it have complex antagonists and most of them are pretty much the same damn archetype. Both shows do that in fact. Because both HH and HB work in the same way. They all have the same kind of snickering abuser who loves to torment their victim and they are about as smart as average Twitter Blue buyer. I mean can you tell me ANY sort of difference between someone like Val, Stella, Crim or Mammon? Any of them? Besides their designs and people they abuse? You probably have to think it through and I think it goes to show how all of them are so damn similar to each other. To the point where they are all almost exactly the same boring character.

And funny thing is? It didn't have to be this way. And this second image feels like more of an insult for two reasons.

Still not perfect, but it's better somewhat And the reason for that is... it feels like actually a bit subtle. You have less cramming in of how terrible Stella is. Octavia being a more oblivious child and Stolas while caring for her being more absent minded. That creates an interesting dynamic and Stella has some air of mystery to her where she can be taken in many directions.

They just chose the absolute dumbest one. And that's why this image makes me mad. It shows they COULD do better, but choose not to and that this art serves no other purpose than just to say STELLA LE BAD. And they have no other agenda with it. No other way to interpret it because of that second stupid one. It narrows and destroys so much potential. Almost as much as that picture of baby Stella from Circus.

And I think another big issue I kind of mentioned before is this parade of complexity. It wants to put on facade of being complex and having something to say, but it really doesn't. It provides a very simple and dumbed down story with clear good and bad side where one side is cartoonishly evil to the point of being moronic while other one is paraded as a victim to end all victims and they put in a dress of sad crying scenes and the daughter being pissed for no reason at clearly good party because the idiotic plot demands it.

And other big issue... Is that this does not explore ANY interesting ideas. No interesting dynamics. No interesting implications or provides any sort of value to the world or explores anything in this world of HELL. Where you can make the world feel wild and interesting and the ways this world shaped those people. The ways those people are broken. The ways you can expand on this conflict beyond the surface level idiocy.

And I want here to present an example of a story rather similar... that did this right. So right it's almost comedic. I am talking about a story of Bloody Baron from Witcher 3 so for all people who did not play this almost 10 year old game (holy shit W3 came out almost 10 years ago... Can you slow down time?) then I must warn you. For the rest who did play or don't care. Enjoy.

Seems appropriate. Bloody Baron questline is probably one of the most impactful, complex and interesting conflicts I've seen in any game. A story of abuse, trauma and pain in a family of Bloody Baron, his wife Anna and daughter Tamara. amazing writing, great voice acting, great characters all that good stuff. But let me tell you why it's so good.

First off. The characters. They are all very well written and are very believable. Bloody Baron especially is a sad mess of a man. An ex veteran, drunkard and abuser who tries to find his wife and their daughter she took with her when she escaped from him after their recent fight. A fact Geralt is not aware of, one of many he and us by extension are not aware of.

This may already sound rather familiar and stay with me because it gets better. What works so well with character of Bloody Baron is that while he is at first a completely unlikeable person that gets worse over time as you discover more filth in his story, he is also extremely human. He is no caricature and you can tell why he became the way he is and you can tell he is full of great regrets and despite his actions still holds a lot of love for both his daughter and wife. He is someone who did terrible things to his family, someone very rash and very brutal, but he is not a total and complete monster. He watched his own other child die partially as a consequence of his own actions. Lost his family. He lost almost everything besides an army of men that couldn't give less of a shit about him and a home in a dreadful swamp full of monsters. His character greatly explores the mind of someone very broken, someone who lost himself to alcohol and ended up making a ton of terrible mistakes and now tries to atone for them. But we also see in flashbacks that he can be also a caring man as he helped Ciri and little girls she saved. He is no less of a terrible person because of it, but it adds humanity to him.

And other two characters in this do not fall far behind as well. Anna especially is also a very broken shell of a person. And despite what one may think she is also not innocent in all of this as she is someone who first cheated on the Baron after he went out to war. Leaving him for some other man as he was putting his life on the line for them (while also falling to alcoholism as well). And when she was confronted about it and when her lover got slaughtered by Baron she broke and started to try to kill him and herself which started the abuse from Baron who only found this to be a good way to calm her down and Anna herself was a clearly traumatized woman who was now in a cage with the Baron.

And in between all of that was a young, very scared child of both. Tamara who saw only the abuse her mother received and felt like it was all her father's fault for everything breaking apart around them and eventually devoting herself to group of Eternal Flame as a way of handling her situation. She still received lots of love from her father, but could never see him as anything less than a monster.

All of them in this scenario... probably feel oddly familiar. And it's funny because in many ways they ARE like Stolas and Stella and Octavia. But roles are somewhat moved and the conflicts feel far more real. Tamara is not for some reason seeing the abuser as lesser evil seemingly. She sees the abuse, but doesn't know a full story much like Geralt or anyone else. Baron in this case is in many ways like Stella. He is someone who abuses their partner and goes into violent rage when they leave them, but unlike Stella you can tell there is this lingering love for his family that further fuels this abuse and brings more pain to everyone while Anna is a broken mess of a woman who cheated on her husband and paid terrible price for it and kept paying as... she sold her upcoming child to terrible witches. Or rather she wished for it to die and for it sold her soul.

And this I think is what makes this story all the stronger. It's not just the tragedy or realism. It's how it ties into the world of Witcher as a whole where we are introduced to some of the most harrowing set pieces of the game and some of the most disturbing villains in the game who also simply act upon their nature as deal makers with Anna and simply know something about Geralt's own daughter Ciri (who they tried to eat). It expands the world and uses it in a meaningful way and pushes more interesting ideas like the side of Anna caring for children at the swamp that are meant to be devoured by witches. Another Hell that ends either with her complete breakdown or death, but also either suicide of the Baron or redemption as he tries to save her and no longer drink or abuse her. While Tamara no matter what has to also face her own consequences of having to forever be tied to Endless Flame, but also putting faith in her father in the good ending and possibly ending with their relationship beginning to heal.

And all of that feels natural. This kind of story definitely can be told anywhere, this kind of story doesn't need this setting, but it further enriches it. And I think another big part of this story I like is that it doesn't try to paint any side as being in the RIGHT. Because in this kind of situation NO PARTY is in the right... And as someone who did went through similar thing... I respect that. And that is why I cannot accept what HB does. In this situation there are no good guys or bad guys... Just people who keep making mistakes (and don't worry, family may be a bit broken, but I still love both my parents no matter how far one may be).

And it is funny because story of Bloody Baron in many ways is how the whole situation with Octavia and her family SHOULD look like. A very harrowing story where there is no place for good or bad sides. Where you have to choose FOR YOURSELF who is more at fault. And the game leaves that decision to you. It does not tell you what to think. It tells you to think. One of the writers who made that whole story said once "I do not like likeable characters. I like interesting characters". And I think that is also where the writing suffers. It tries to paint one side as "likeable", but because of that it removes so much complexity from the character by excusing all of their awful behavior or painting them as ultimate victim. And do not try to tell me also that because Stella is so easy to hate then they are well written. That's not true. Making hateable character is the easiest thing in the world. Just put everything bad in them and make them not like protagonist and oppose them. That's it. It's lazy.

And that also makes me so mad about HB because they were CLOSE to making something good. Not exactly the same as Bloody Baron, but something of it's own that could also be good.

I personally make a fic called "Song for the Quiet Bird". There I partially explore characters of Stolas and Stella and Octavia and I try to paint the entire situation in a more gray light where each side is not truly in the right. Where both of them are in their own ways broken people. And to do so I also try to use something I wish Viv used which is Immortality of Ars Goetia which could have been a thing, but Viv decided to make Stolas like 30 because then you have cute Stolas and Blitzo arts as kids.

In my version both have lived already for 800 years. They lived already for a long time and there is eternity waiting ahead and both cope in their own ways that were taught to them by the world of Hell to not lose themselves to eternity. Stolas is a selfish hedonist who cares the most about his own pleasures and even though he cares for Octavia it is very easy for him to lose himself in his own desires and pleasures as he mostly cares for himself the most and anything that is extension of him. Meanwhile Stella is a cold, distant and very duty focused character. Someone who while trains Octavia for the longest time does not involve herself too much with her own daughter, barely seeing her as one. Someone entirely focused on the prosperity of the family as a whole, someone who does not believe in value of individuality or personal joy and instead focuses on the good of everything else solely. This good being judged by her and her views that value subjugation and order compared to Stolas's love for chaos and selfish freedom.

In this case both sides are very broken. They both have to live through their own Hells made by their own choices that add to the fact they were born into the world of Hell. Neither one can really truly coexist with each other and both long ago abandoned any hope for true understanding. And in all of that the only real victim and good party you can find is Octavia. A person who suffers because of this clash of ideals and has to cope in her own way with suffering both she and her parents go through. All of them suffering.

That's at least how I write it. Something where you cannot pin to one side being terrible or evil. Just everyone being broken in a terrible world you have to fight with to make something better and both in a way... gave up. Until of course Moxxie comes along there for Stella and his presence helps her develop... but that's another thing.

I also have some quotes below from my fic to show my approach to both Stella and Stolas as characters. First one is Stolas and Octavia having a chat in the most recent chapter.

And here below is a scene between Stella and Moxxie where there is some discussion about theatre plays of Hell and difference between human and hellish ones delving into also her own view of the world (this IS a Stella/Moxxie crackship fic... just a big slowburn). From one of the earlier chapters.

Both I think probably show their own deep flaws and ways of coping with their own realities.

Now I don't say I want my ideas to be in the show, but more complex ones. Ones that are not just this... thing we've been fed for all of Season 2 and partially in Season 1 which could have been taken in a better direction, but it never was and just like one image here ruins another, here season 2 retroactively ruins the 1st one. Stella/Stolas/Octavia dynamic just has potential to be so much more than... whatever HB is now.

Well that was stupidly long and I can't imagine many people getting here, but hey. I wrote it and it's already too long to not post it. To whoever came this far I thank you and hope you will leave your opinion on this manifesto. Hope it was entertaining at least.

[tuliptired]

One-shot for Egon? Egon and the reader that constantly throws him off guard with their flirting?

Shut Up, You're Stupid, Just Kiss Me

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

if you saw me post this to the wrong ask you actually didn't

better formatting on Ao3 😔

Another one of these benefit-things. Egon understood the whole spiel- show up and look nice so the city doesn’t shut them down and a few nonprofits can look generous. But they got repetitive quickly. He didn’t even know why they were invited to this one. But, Ray insisted that it’d be good for them- and possible investors. Everyday sacrifices.

Ray and Winston always handled the networking part of the night, while Peter sat next to him at the bar, absolutely bored out of his mind as he toyed with an empty glass, head in his hand. Egon didn’t drink, but for some reason these bars were the only seats in the entire ballroom. It never made much of a difference, as he always spent the majority of his time observing the guests or the bottles on the wall, or wondering what he’d do when he got home. 

“Egoooooon,” Peter whined for the 10th time that night as his head hit the bartop. “I don’t know what to do.” They’d been through this. 

“Do what you always do. Get drunk. Talk to women.”

Peter’s cheek lay against the wood as he turned to face him, eyelids lower than usual. “But I miss my girlfriend.”

“Halfway there.” Egon righted his forgotten glass as it threatened to roll off the bar.

“You don’t get it, man. I’m committed now.” If that was a solemn vow or a complaint, it was hard to tell. 

A pair of women stood next to them at the bar, giving quick apologies for the close proximity. Peter notices Egon’s shoulders square, and suddenly becomes very interested in tonight.

He perked up quickly, leaning into Egon. “Y’know what would make my night? Seeing you take a chance. Don’t shake your head- you know I’m right.” Egon shut it down silently, shrugging off Peter’s hands. Peter was right, he hadn’t “taken a chance” in what felt like forever. Peter’s voice continued to try and convince him, as it was tuned out into a low vibration of sounds. 

Romance- or love, didn’t scare Egon. He was a grown man, after all, and he figured he understood it well enough. But that was his downfall. Person A is attracted to Person B, and they start dating- it was a simple equation. Peter and Dana defied the equation at times. But they put themselves back into it. Louis and Janine bent the rules of the equation. Could he do that? Could he break the rules, make new ones, to law that evolves every moment? Peter’s voice turned into a ring. This didn’t matter. People didn’t look at him.

He first experienced that realization in high school, the week of a dance. Big ears, big glasses- but Peter had a date. Peter always had a date. Did he want a date? Someone to hold when it was dark? To blush with as they got dressed up together? He was only human. But would he ever get that? All signs pointed to no. So, he stopped worrying about it all together. It was easier to ignore while his nose was in a book. 

Peter was practically draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to die, Spenges?” 

“Can’t you bother someone else?” He didn’t mean to snap. It was just an unpleasant moment of awareness, it always was. 

Peter was unmoved. “Oh, Egon. Is it ‘cause they’re girls?” He jumped from his stool as Egon decided to remove himself from the bar. “Sit, sit, sitsitsit. I’ll go and find Ray. I think you need a nap, anyway.” Peter disappeared into the crowd before Egon could join him. 

Loneliness. Maybe he really should start drinking. Or, coat tailing after Peter found Ray to get out of here sooner.

He couldn’t stew in his increasing misery for long, as he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around to be freed from tonight, to stick to Ray or Winston’s side like a lost kid, he was met with a different sight.

Oh god.

“Mr. Spengler!” Your cheery face beamed. “It’s been a while. Is anyone sitting here?” Not anymore, you were already lowering your butt into it. 

He remembers you well. He was required to take an Humanities class, something about ethics and morals in STEM students. You were a TA, the professor explained  not necessarily going into that field, but taking the opportunity anyway. Egon considered himself to be well-rounded academically. But you were near tyrannical. In a class of liberal arts, english, and history majors, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You picked on him relentlessly, engaging in back and forth discussion that the rest of the lecture watched on. Even the professor.

Independent analysis- each student assigned a poem and asked to dissect it. “But, Mr. Spengler, surely you’re not insinuating that the speaker didn’t grow throughout her poem?” Your voice was loud, though the hall was smaller than normal and his seat was much closer to the front than he remembers it being yesterday.

You were always on the side of emotion and subtext, him on the side of logic and literalism. “In 6 stanzas, she wrote about flowers. I’m insinuating that her perspective did not grow in those 6 stanzas.”

You turned your back to him, moving to the large chalkboard. “Are you sure you’re not dancing around the fact that your assignment was an allegory for sex?” The class broke, and his face flushed into a bright, knowing red, as you flashed him a bright, knowing smile.

Relentless torture. You’d stop him before he could leave the hall, a timed essay in your hands that you’d returned to everyone but him.

“Interesting topic,” you offered, after an hour of grilling him. As he reached for the paper, you pulled your hand back.

“Your writing is improving. You do exceptionally well when it’s something you enjoy.” You let him take it.

You start for your things by your desk, before calling out into the empty room. “And you’re cute when you actually try!”

So he decided that he hated you. It was the only plausible explanation. He left your debates cherry pink , stumbling over his own words. He could have sworn that he was beyond intelligent. But when he stepped into that room with you he became a bumbling idiot. And hate was a powerful thing. He found himself contemplating what would occur that day as he made his trek across campus. He was sure he’d understood the essay he was assigned to the point of being able to recite it. That would show you. But you shut him down, and up. No matter how calculated and practiced his responses were, you tore down his guard with your comments. How could someone who made him feel so stupid say such…things? He sat alone at night, pondering his ailment. You confused him to an intense degree. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate- this was hate, white and hot. 

The morning before he graduated, preparing to return in the fall for his doctorate, he appeared in the desolate classroom, as you cleaned out filing cabinets. 

You looked up from underneath the desk, the smile he’d seen for a whole semester spreading on your lips. “Your reception outfit is nice, Mr. Spengler.”

God damn it. Why was he here again? The grip on his bag tightened as he scoured through his brain for any recollection. You had a box in your arms, simply passing him.

“Don’t change,” and the door shut behind you.

How he hated you. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you managed to order a drink while talking directly to him.

“Of course.” Sweaty palms, increased heart rate. 

You sipped your glass. “You finished your doctorate? No more school?”  

He adjusted to spontaneous conversation, albeit slowly. He didn’t face you as he responded. “No more school.” You let out a noise of surprise.

“Doctor Spengler. I like that.” His ears burned. 

“And you’re doing the ghost-thing?” Oversimplification. But he found himself not caring when the words fell from your lips. 

“Full-time.”

“I get your ads 24/7. You look great in a jumpsuit.” His long legs jerked against the underside of the bar, and he heard you stifle a laugh. His stomach soared. Vitriol.

There was a hand on his arm. That commanded his attention. If he wasn’t full of…rage then, he was now. 

You murmured. “I don’t still make you nervous, do I, Dr. Spengler?”  He couldn’t breathe. As he opened his mouth, the only sounds that came out were stammers. You just laughed, squeezing his arm as you rose from the stool.

“I’ve gotta get going. Goodnight, Dr. Spengler.” You were gone before he could blink.

Nights later in the firehouse, in the safety of his lab, he couldn’t focus. How ironic? As he trotted down the steps for fresh air, the phone rang out. Janine was out for her lunch, and the others were still on the road from a last minute job. He sighed.

“Ghostbusters.” 

“Hey, Dr. Spengler. I enjoyed seeing you again and,” He held the phone to his ear with two hands. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner tomorrow night?”

He hated you. He’d show you just how smart he was by hanging up, ending this (one-sided) college feud.

“We’re back,” Ray’s voice startled him as he leaned against the desk’s edge staring at nothing. “Did we get a call?” He looks to the phone, resting on the tabletop rather than its proper place. Egon swallows.

“Just one.”

“Okay?” They wouldn’t accept his answer. He averted his eyes.

He conceded, letting himself lean back against the desk again. “An old TA.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who used to needle you all the time?” Ray had never met you, but he recalled Egon’s bad moods after having left your class. 

“Egon’s got a bully,” Peter directed at Winston as he did something in his own open office, behind Janine’s desk. “What’d they want?”

He took a short breath. “Dinner.”

Peter whistled. “Gutsy,” Winston offered as he sent Peter a look of shared surprise. Ray kept his attention on Egon.

“Good on you for saying no.” Egon was silent.

Peter reappeared. “You said no, right?”

More silence. Egon was a weak, weak man. Peter put him in a headlock, pulling him in tight as Ray’s eyes blew out, wide, and Winston laughed in disbelief. 

“Spenges is a big fat masochist!”

A woman walked in for an in-person consultation, confused at the sudden spectacle.

“Would you be quiet?”

You were (fashionably) late. 5 minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not while you were going on about losing your house keys before you were about to leave. As you talked, he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Jealousy, perhaps?

So he let you talk. And talk. But he didn’t find himself searching for other stimuli like he normally did with characteristically chatty people. You seemed nervous, cringing a bit after every poorly measured story or unintentional confession. He had a bit of an upper hand. He smiled to himself, albeit small.

“What?” You grinned back, probing him. 

“Nothing,” he took a sip from the water he’d been nursing in place of wine. His expression was smug, hidden behind the lip of the glass.

“How’d you stay single, with a face like that?”

He choked on his water, setting the glass down as he coughed into his elbow. You had your head in your hand, leering at him like he was food. “I beg your pardon?”

“When you were post-grad? Guys and girls lined up outside your office to speak to you. And it wasn’t for your brain.”

You were messing with him, like you always were. But he’d bite. “They were eager to learn.”

You drew your hands up, incredulously. “Yeah, eager to learn what you looked like naked.” For the first time in his Jewish upbringing, he felt compelled to utter the name Jesus Christ.

The night went on for a bit longer. Against his better judgment, he started to find you funny. And witty. And incredibly alluring. You strung him along for 10 minutes about a classic of fiction, only to reveal that it was a personal story of your sexuality. And then you did it again, this time making a comment about his rear end. He couldn’t help but be startled every time.

You let him go on a tangent about his studies at one point, watching and listening intently. He felt the feeling rise in him again. This must have been full revulsion, because he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. His cheeks began to grow sore from prolonged, uncontrollable smiling- what he considered to be himself reverting back to primal reactions from how hot his hatred burned. You fell into your old ways, going back and forth about a classic he’d read between then and college. He felt like he did in that lecture hall, temperature increased and body leaned towards yours.

“Assine point of view, Dr. Spengler,” you crossed your arms. The name made him feel like he’d collapse onto the floor every time you said it, however the scene was made in a fancy restaurant. 

Begrudgingly, he spoke up, voice weaker than it had been in hours. “You can call me Egon.” He absentmindedly picked up his glass.

You shook your head, twice. “Dr. Spengler is fine. It's pretty fun to say in bed.”

The glass in his hand shattered in his white knuckled fist. That’s how you both were escorted out the establishment, partially for the glass now strewn into the carpeting as well as his palm, in addition to his failure to react to the staff shaking him around. You guided him outside, the cool air doing him some good as his hand was wrapped haphazardly in white napkins.

“Sorry. About your hand.” You broke the silence, assuming an arbitrary direction as you continued in the path of your apartment. 

He was in his own world. Nay, his own universe. He stopped you as a cool wind blew through the sidewalk, rustling a nearby tree. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what I know anymore. I hate you. And you hate me.” 

His face was one of desperation, while yours was one of dismay. He continued.

“When I talk to you- when I see you. I feel the intense-st emotions, most of which I never thought I’d experience. I sweat. Too much. I forget what was on my mind. I look like an absolute moron. And- I never knew what that meant. So it had to be hate. That’s why you treat me the way you do- you laugh and smile and call me an idiot while calling me handsome because you hate me, too.”

He never vomited his soul out like that to anyone. Only a handful of times, really, to his closest friends. You only blinked, before a new expression drew over your features. Your face melted into a smile, to his surprise, as your arms suddenly found their way around his neck. 

“Come inside, Dr. Spengler.”

He woke up the next morning- in your bed as you slept soundly. How he hated you.

[l0vergirlatheart]

Hello! Idk if your requests are open but I just wanted to get this off my head before I forget it😅

I was thinking a sagau with a creator reader who’s secretly a super-genius( iq of a gods level) who sees everything like it’s a hologram?( stuff like math, science, medical, mechanical, strategies, etc…) how do you thing they would react if they got to see from the creators perspective? Who would find it useful? Who would find it more annoying? Who would be impressed about it? How would take advantage of it in battle?

Ah, my requests are indeed open as of right now! when I first read this I thought of that one woman and the random ass math equations meme :sobs: also childe's is short 'cause idk what to do for him...

anyways, this is a cool idea!! chars. used are : Al-Haitham, Childe, and Kaveh. i love Kaveh sm :((<3

start below cut

AL-HAITHAM

Oh, when Al-Haitham first saw you randomly fiddling with seemingly the air, he thought maybe something might be wrong with you. Maybe you were sleep deprived? Sick? Tired? Slightly delusional? You, of course, noticed he was staring at you and sighed.

"Stop staring at me like I'm crazy and just come over here and look." He quickly nodded and obeyed. He would never even think of taking another moment to stop. He quickly approached next to you, and then out of nowhere, suddenly a bunch of light [color] words, symbols, and numbers appeared infront of you two. He looked at them, hen back at you, and then back at them. What were these? So many equations he'd never seen before... You glanced at his confused face and suppressed a laugh.

How cute he is when he is confused, you thought, smiling to yourself. He was trying pretty hard to understand them, though it was all something only you really knew.

He slowly gained the courage to ask, "What... are these..?"

"Well, my lovely little scribe, these are all problems and formulas from which I've learned. I haven't implemented them into Teyvat at all, of course though."

'Lovely little scribe..?' He thought, his face heating up a bit. "I-if you don't mind me asking, why didn't you..?" 'Archons, did I really just stutter.. how embarrassing...'

"Well, there really isn't a reason for anyone here to learn it. I merely use it so could help me control the events of Teyvat easier. There is no need for anyone on Teyvat to learn such a thing, if they do not possess the power I do." You said, smiling at his reaction to his new nickname.

"I.. see.. That is very.. interesting." He said, trying to process it all as he glanced at you, just to see you smiling at him, and quickly looked back at the hologram. He couldn't handle it-- you were just too much for him to handle. [positively, of course. he loved the creator in a lot of ways.]

"Not as interesting as you, love."

"!!!"

Oh archons, you've broke him!

end : 1/3

KAVEH

you have no idea how down bad I am for this man istg

"I'm surprised you've gotten the hang of this already! N-Not that I doubted you of course, but most people don't learn so quickly! N-No that I mean to say you're most people, you aren't!! B-But I don't mean to try and single you out, nor do I mean to mean to say you're the same--" Kaveh tripped over all his words, trying to make sure they weren't going to offend you at all, but he just kept poking holes in each until he heard you let out a light laugh.

"It's alright Kaveh. I know what you're trying to say, thank you. I've just got a nifty little trick up my sleeve."

...Archons, he loved your laugh. It made him feel so giddy.

"Do you mind telling me? I-I just want to se if I could use it to hurry and finish my work faster, not that I mean to use you or anything, but--"

You could sense he was about to go on another trail of thoughts, so you simply smiled and said, "It is not a trick that can be learned, it's more of a power I possess." He nodded, and internally sighed.

"...Come here, let me show you. I'll let you decided whether it's useful or not." You said, motioning for him to stand next to you.

What an honor it is, to be invited next to the Divine Creator, and how important it is... and how I get too! Ah, happy day! He thought, as he happily sped walked his way next to you. What happened next, made him feel as if he was ascending.

You carefully grabbed Kaveh's hand and guided up into the air, and as he tilted his head in confusion as a blush appeared on his cheeks, suddenly words, numbers, problems, and more appeared on thin air! They all had solutions and such, and he could understand most of them because they were the ones you two were just working on, but others had unfamiliar letters and language, with different numbers and much different ways of solving them.

"So? What do you think?" You inquired, looking at him to see his reaction. He was completely astonished. You did all of this in one day?! Not say he was doubting you or anything, but he'd never seen it before! Such complex things that took him and others so long took you merely a minute or two!

"...woah." Was all he could mutter as he stared up at the hologram.

You chuckled, and said, "There's one more thing I'd like to show you..." And you guided his hand to another part of the hologram, as if you were swiping. Suddenly, a bunch of blueprints and diagrams appeared, and he quickly recognized them. They were his future projects he had planned on! He stared at them, then at you, and then just turned red. Both because he was flustered, and because he was blown away.

You'd been thinking about.. me..? And from the looks of it.. you've been trying to.. help me?!

You smiled and squeezed his hand, and he had to muffle a little 'eep!'

...He did not do very well muffling it. You chuckled and whispered in his ear, "You're so cute Kaveh, you know that?"

God, he loved the way his named rolled off of your tounge.

[i love kaveh to a normal amount i swear..]

end : 2/3

CHILDE / TARTAGLIA

"What're you doing?"

"Solving formulas to see which artifacts are best for this fight." You answered, continuing to move and use your hologram.

"A fight is a fight! What're artifacts really needed for?" He groaned, dramatically.

"For you? To do more damage. Some others do better support, off-field, healing--"

"Yeah but isn't doing so much math boringgg?" He drawed out, he just wanted to fight this [boss] already!

"Do you want to win this fight?"

"..Well, yeah..!"

"Then let me check these artifacts."

He whined, dramatically. He didn't really see why you needed that stupid hologram, it was quite annoying... taking up all your attention when he's right there! Sure he can't read half of those equations, but he can entertain you more than that 'floating screen' can! That's for sure!

Though, Childe wouldn't push anymore. You're the creator, whatever you say goes.

"Aand... done! Now use these artifacts and--" You handed him the artifacts before he eagerly put them on and grabbed your hand before you could get caught up in those stupid little symbols again.

"Let's go, Your Grace!!! I don't wanna wait any longer!!" He semi-shouted enthusiastically, holding onto you gently. You smiled, and shook your head lightly, but silently laughed.

...maybe you could let it slide this time.

end : 3/3

[glitteringcrab]

Maybe I can use that someday

Okay. I think... I have an inkling... of what Evil Morty had in mind when he said "you are a little different though Rick" and "maybe I can use that some day".

And it might provide some insight on why he's still on the Curve.

I-I think there... could be... some basis/buildup for the following theory (I can't really say there is buildup, because it's all a matter of interpretation right now), but I gotta admit there are A LOT of "ifs" in this equation, soo... It's all just a hypothesis.

Anyway, here goes. ('tis a long post)

So when S7E5 aired out, I remember thinking: What on earth is so dangerous that Evil Morty, who single-handedly took down the Citadel of Ricks, needs help to deal with???

There are a few contestants for this pedestal:

1. A civilization outside the Curve (What the f*** is that?!?)

2. One of Rick Prime's creations. I mean, we know he didn't like to manage people any more, so it's unlikely he ruled an empire that suddenly became headless after his untimely departure, but given that he liked building, as Rick C-137 put it, "elaborate shit", and that he had "free time" it's still possible we haven't seen the last of his creations. No way he was just sitting ducks in the Omega Device v2 waiting for someone to visit. Maybe he made something that hoarded resources that Evil Morty discovered and would like to loot?

3. The weird Morty cult (eh, weak)

4. Maybe Evil Morty doesn't need help to protect himself from someone, maybe he needs help to build something. E.g. another dimensional drive, that separates him from everyone else?

5. Maybe Evil Morty didn't have anything specific in mind when he said that to Rick C-137. Maybe he just recognized the potential there. (although I cannot help feeling this is NOT what it is; that CHIN TAP. What are you thinking, Evil Morty???)

6. Oooooor....

Well... I know we all think that whoever Rick is responsible for the cables in Evil Morty's head is long dead (I mean... I've read the fanfics and seen the fanart, although "Evil Rick" typically stars in those :P)...

...But I can't shake off the feeling that he is alive and well somewhere.

Which, on first thought, doesn't make any sense:

Exhibit A: That Rick (Imma gonna call him Puppetmaster Rick) is obviously not around Evil Morty any more!

Exhibit B: Evil Morty never seemed scared while in the Citadel, just fed up, tired and miserable.

He was okay with making himself a public figure by running for president; it seems to me he wasn't particularly worried a specific Rick would recognize and go after him (and it should be relatively easy to tell apart Evil Morty if you actually know what you're looking for: you only have to scan Mortys' heads for cables).

Exhibit C: Supposing that guy really is still alive and Evil Morty really is scared of him/hates him, but for some reason was unable to kill him originally, wouldn't it be hilariously easy to kill him once he got the whole Citadel's arsenal and manpower at his disposal?

So why did I think Puppetmaster Rick is alive in the first place?

The answer is this:

The mention of this... "super weird" Rick.

When this scene played out, my first thought was that "Super weird" Rick had an unhealthy obsession with tulips or something. Or that he filled all his creations with polka dolts. Something so crazy and silly that would make any other Rick go "ugh" and decide to give him a wide breadth, no matter how clever and valuable Super Weird Rick's brain was.

After the reveal that Evil Morty was the one really talking in this scene and that he had been going after Rick C-137 specifically, I reached the conclusion that this was all made up. That the "spectrum of all Ricks" was not real, it was something that Evil Morty came up with so as to provide a non-suspicious explanation on why he's targeting Rick C-137 in case Rick C-137 escaped. (Even though, you know, Evil Morty must have filtered through which Ricks to attack somehow... a Doofus Rick who specializes in baking wouldn't be particularly useful to Evil Morty. So... it makes sense that the Spectrum of All Ricks is real...?)

And I know that in Pocket Mortys Rick Prime was the one called "weird Rick"; but is Rick Prime really weird by Evil Morty's standards? He thinks all Ricks are trash, and Rick Prime seems a huge piece of trash as well, why would he be "weird" to Evil Morty?

In fact, what kind of Rick would seem "weird" to Evil Morty?

Why, we already know the answer to that! Rick C-137 seems weird.

Of course he does. He seems overly attached to his Morty. Tells him to stay out of the Prime Fight, to keep him safe. Is motivated over avenging his wife.

Other Ricks also call Rick C-137 similar stuff.

So... Rick C-137 is a... rogue, passionate, irrational Rick... Irrational for having attachments, that is.

Wouldn't Evil Morty --if he's a clone Morty who's been passed around several uncaring Ricks, if he's been discarded countless times-- also find Rick C-137 and his... unusual attachment to one specific Morty "weird"?

And if my theory is right... Evil Morty himself has also passed through the hands of another Rick who was... let's say, overly attached to him. Like, extremely so.

Wouldn't such a Rick seem... super weird to Evil Morty?

Although, why on earth would he appear on the Spectrum of All Ricks? Do dead Ricks also appear in the spectrum? It's already a spectrum of infinite Ricks, why make it even more bloated by including dead Ricks?? Because if Puppetmaster Rick did to Evil Morty something as horrible to as the implications I describe in the above link, why on earth would Evil Morty let him live?!

WELL.

Imagine you're Evil Morty. You're the sort of person who:

puppeteered Evil Rick

did not let Evil Rick commit suicide when he couldn't take it any more (although you made him pass out, which is slightly nice?)

could not tear your eyes away from Evil Rick when he got brutally murdered.

It is implied (I think) that the reason Evil Morty did all that to Evil Rick is that (a) Evil Rick was beating him up and (b) Evil Rick "adopted" him, drunkedly promising that this relationship, however problematic, would last forever, they could be grandpa and grandson-- oh, wait, no. If you don't shut up it's back to the agency with you.

Now, supposing Puppetmaster Rick did... something... to Evil Morty... which, whatever it was, reduced his resting face from this:

to this:

and abused him so much he ended up thinking this was Not A Big Deal:

...Now, if you were Evil Morty, and the option to doom Puppetmaster Rick in a Fate Worse Than Death was available, would you kill him, or would you trap him in an eternal torture of some sort?

(this comes to mind, which is played as a joke, but you get the idea. This sort of thing is possible in the Rick and Morty universe. It could be a time loop. It could be a clone vat buried deep underground in absolute darkness. It could be a modification in Puppetmaster Rick's brain implants.)

I guess it all depends on how scared vs angry Evil Morty was of this guy. It depends on whether he grasped the first chance available to finally kill him or whether he took some extra time to make sure he got to spend the rest of his life appropriately tortured. In any case, because Evil Morty is very pragmatic and patient, I cannot see him doing such a thing unless he was absolutely sure it would last forever.

Or, maybe, if Puppetmaster Rick was an Operation Phoenix expert, killing him in a finite way was a lot more difficult than simply trapping him alive somewhere.

Or, alternatively, maybe Evil Morty had no choice on the matter. It occurred to me the other day that the first Rick we have seen Evil Morty kill with his own two hands was "Nice" Rick. Every other Rick whose death he is responsible for, he has killed indirectly; whether through the puppeteered Evil Rick, a mob of furious Mortys, his Citadel guards, hacked portal fluid that he manipulated Ricks to use (by telling them "nobody leave, everybody stay" lol) or by re-routing their Phoenix Protocol to a different vat... one that simply happened to have razor blades at the bottom. So I'm wondering if whatever implant Evil Morty has in his head "forbid" him from killing Puppetmaster Rick (or any Rick) and he was able to hack through that restriction only relatively recently. Anyway, I'm aware this particular theory is a stretch (is puppeteering Evil Rick really that different from lifting a gun yourself? I don't think so) and I don't think it needs to be true for Puppetmaster Rick still being around.

So, let's hypothesize that Evil Morty did, in fact, trap Puppermaster Rick somewhere from where he was reasonably certain Puppetmaster Rick would never be able to escape. Evil Morty went on to live in the Citadel, get further abused and neglected, abandon the hope of ever having a family, puppeteer Evil Rick, become president, ESCAPE THE CURVE. HOORAY!!!

Oops.

I know we fans have been joking about whether that reset Evil Morty as well or not, but the truth is, it would only be a minor inconvenience to him (although extremely annoying). He has his own untainted portal fluid and the rift is still open, he could easily portal either right back to where he was before or to a random spaceship, then back through the rift.

But... wouldn't that free any Ricks who happened to be trapped in various places? Including the above described (hypothetical) Puppetmaster Rick?

Of course, portal travel was still broken (and apparently Evil Morty broke it so effectively that it also trapped Rick Prime, who makes his own batches) so it's not like Puppetmaster Rick would be able to go far...

...Unless he promptly Operation Phoenixed himself to escape that way.

Or unless Evil Morty never knew what his dimension number was, so there was no need for Puppermaster Rick to run anywhere because Evil Morty would have no idea where he'd be sent to.

Anyway. If we follow that hypothetical scenario, the Puppetmaster Rick who Evil Morty went into a lot of trouble to imprison (and torture) just escaped. Evil Morty could receive some notification in his eyepatch about this change, or he could reach that conclusion by the neon green wave pulsing by.

He could have immediately portaled back to Puppetmaster Rick's prison to find him gone. Or he could have been all "NOPE! I just escaped, I refuse to deal with this anymore! I've got my revenge, and I'm free now!" and went on with his life outside the Curve.

But, uh... that wouldn't negate Puppetmaster Rick still being out there.

And Evil Morty might think it unlikely any random Citadel Rick (who just happened not to be on the Citadel at the time of its destruction) would be motivated enough investigate the Citadel's ruins, reach the conclusion that the President was responsible, and decide to go after him... (it is unlikely; why would any Rick bother to do that?)

...But wouldn't you say hypothetical Puppetmaster Rick would be motivated enough to go after his previous sidekick?

SO.

In that scenario, Evil Morty is definitely hiding.

Maybe he's taking advantage of the un-rifted Curve's "wall" properties to create a shield for his minecraft base. Maybe he's taking advantage of some other, specific property of this particular universe to strengthen his shield. Maybe he's hiding his brainwaves, blending them with the brainwaves of the Morty (or Mortys) living in this one universe. Maybe he's closely monitoring the Curve for anyone going out.

But in any case, he knows that --sooner or later-- he will probably have to deal with Puppetmaster Rick. And sure, Evil Morty has already moved mountains, and defeated this guy once, so he knows he can do it again... So I wouldn't say that Evil Morty is scared of him, per se...

...but he might be. This would be the Rick who scarred him so horribly he thought hundreds of naked tortured Mortys were small potatoes (Rick C-137, Rick Prime, and any other Rick would only try to kill him; Puppetmaster Rick would probably try to pick up from where he left off). And even if he's not scared, I'd haphazard a guess that Evil Morty is repulsed by him. He wouldn't want to meet this guy again. Unlike Rick C-137, who lived to see Rick Prime slain, Evil Morty is no longer motivated by revenge, he seeks peace. Wouldn't fighting Puppetmaster Rick again be extremely emotionally taxing, probably more so than puppeteering Evil Rick and running the Citadel were?

...and wouldn't Puppetmaster Rick be particularly dangerous for Evil Morty, because he'd know all his brain-related tricks, since he is the one who came up with them in the first place...!

...Wouldn't it be better, when that time came, to not face Puppetmaster Rick alone?

Wouldn't it better to have Rick C-137 at his side; one of the most powerful Ricks? One of the most dangerous Ricks in terms of arsenal, intelligence and capabilities, but also a Rick unmotivated to turn against Evil Morty and also a Rick enslaved to him?

(and wouldn't Evil Morty appear completely cruel and heartless and evil if he demands that Rick C-137 shoot at Puppetmaster Rick through a poor Morty who is begging them not to harm his beloved grandfather... who Evil Morty would know is not saying that out of his own free will, but of course he does not trust Rick C-137 enough to divulge this detail...? Or if he handed the recently freed Morty a gun, allowing him to kill Puppetmaster Rick and therefore also gain some sort of closure and restore his autonomy, but appearing to Rick C-137 like he is forcing the poor Morty to kill his own beloved grandpa and therefore coming off as completely unhinged?)

And I gotta say, Evil Morty DID give me the impression of being huddled in his space minecraft snowglobe. Returning to live ON (but not IN) the Curve. We weren't shown him exploring the great unknown, although he MUST have done that as well, given that he discovered that weird place with the crystal monsters. He returned home as soon as possible from that weird crystal place, and didn't even bother to remove his spacesuit when he arrived home. It seemed to me that he wanted to do as little as possible with the outside world.

Compare this with how relieved and happy he looked the first moment he escaped the Curve.

Is he just too tired? Did the novelty of freedom simply wear off, the infinite loneliness wear him down? Is his shelved-away trauma catching up to him, replacing the relief, happiness and peace he seeks with emptiness...? (all probably true)

...or did something else change as well, something that prevents him from actually feeling safe?

...So.

Like I said, a lot of "ifs".

But, if the "maybe I can use that someday" is not Evil Morty simply recognizing the potential, generally speaking, of having Rick C-137 being enslaved to him; if Evil Morty did have something specific in mind, then I'd guess that --from a story-telling perspective-- it would be something for which the foundations have already been lain in the story.

I like this theory a lot, and I like to believe that the "ifs" are close to the truth, but obviously I don't actually know that :P I'm sure that whatever the reason Evil Morty is still on the Curve, the story is going to be incredible! :D

Edit: I just stopped believing and got repulsed by my own theory lol

I really hate the idea that, after everything he's been through, Evil Morty is not Free outside the Curve. I don't mind him being huddled against the horrors of the infinite, but I hate the idea that he's still scared of Ricks, and that this fear drove him to camouflage his existence by living next to the Curve. I want to believe that the reason we were not shown him frolicking in the infinite is that he already did it and has had his fill, not that it would be dangerous for him to wander around.

I hate even more the idea that Evil Morty had chosen to resort to torturing Puppetmaster Rick all this time. I want to believe that (regardless of the atrocities he has stooped to after he decided to leave the Curve) at the moment he freed himself from Puppermaster Rick in the long past, Evil Morty was not "evil" yet. That his integrity and morals and need for freedom were originally stronger than his cruelty and hate and that he prioritized feeling safe (aka quickly killing Puppetmaster Rick to be safe once and for all) over enacting revenge (aka trapping Puppetmaster Rick in a hellish fate). That he had not sunk so low yet. Otherwise it kinda... it's like it negates the message of his story. It feels like a defeat. Like another moral battle he lost instead of one where he won his freedom back. Like another thing Puppetmaster Rick took from him.

He did not seem nervous when his shield temporarily collapsed by Rick C-137 consolidating dimensions. If he thought a specific Rick was after him, specifically, and one as particularly dangerous as Puppetmaster Rick as well, wouldn't the happenings send a million alarm bells ringing in his head? And wouldn't he be a lot more careful about leaving behind tech that could be traced back to him during the Prime fight?

Adios, theory. You were fun for a while.

Maybe it's simply like Morty said: "Nobody quits twitter". Maybe Evil Morty simply wants to use the shield properties of the Curve for his own benefit. Maybe there's some plot point or lore we weren't shown yet, which will be revealed in the future seasons. Or maybe we've all been misjudging him, and his humanity and loneliness are catching up to him, and he occasionally wants to check on how other people are doing.

Edit 2: I have... restarted believing my theory...?

First of all, Evil Morty seemed to know immediately who would be responsible for the "Curve Stability Compromised" alarm: the one Rick who knew how the Curve works, because he's the one Rick who actually made it! Plus some other Ricks appeared unable to create their own portal fluid (remember that old-man Rick who hung out with the Mortytown Locos, who was creating bootleg portal fluid, but whose "math was off"?) And since Evil Morty destroyed the Citadel, they'd be unable to go get more of it... So if Puppetmaster Rick was one of those Ricks who had to buy his own portal fluid, then ever since the destruction of the Citadel he'd be trapped, able to travel to different universes only by... rerouting himself during Operation Phoenix (an accommodation for Ricks Evil Morty obviously doesn't have in his home base). So in this scenario, Evil Morty is staying close to the Curve not so much out of fear, but more as a precaution. If Puppetmaster Rick can make his own portal fluid, of course, all bets are off.

Evil Morty should be adequately confident that his trail has vanished, gone cold by now. The last Puppetmaster Rick would have seen of him would be during season one, at best. Puppetmaster would have known him as "Morty 79⊢⊇V" (or something like that); but Evil Morty has destroyed this record and assumed a new identity. It would be very difficult to connect who he was before to the Morty President, to the Morty who escaped the Curve (and I bet only Rick C-137 and Morty Prime know some Morty escaped the Curve; unless they told other surviving Mortys). The best Puppetmaster Rick can do is search for his brainwaves or dimensional signature (which must probably be very effective), but he's not looking for "Evil Morty". He has no reason to think there is any Morty outside the Curve. He might not even be able to tell whether his old sidekick is dead or alive by now (if Evil Morty is efficient enough in hiding his presence).

So in all these scenarios, Evil Morty staying close to the Curve is a strategic decision based on caution, not one borne of panic (which I like, because I don't want Evil Morty to be scared any more).

And it just occurred to me that, if Puppetmaster Rick is still alive, he would have prepared himself for the eventuality of their encounter (same as I'm sure Evil Morty has done). He knows how Evil Morty's implant works, and its remains are still in his head. I'd bet anything he has fabricated a device or instrument or weapon to shoot at his head (much like Evil Morty's finger guns) to instantly override the implant and regain control. And Evil Morty would know that, he'd be able to tell immediately what said weapon is for. Man, their encounter would be terrifying.

[weiszklee]

@fandomsandfeminism Let's take this to its own post, I like this discussion, but it has gone on a bit of a sidetrack.

fandomsandfeminism you...can't think of any reason why Germany specifically might not be super quick to embrace "traditional heritage" nowadays? And that this might not be a universal experience? Could there be a reason why you don't see that specifically in Germany that might not hold true in another country? weiszklee Of course, but I don't think the lesson of WW2 was "Germans can't be trusted with nationalism." For me at least, it's "nationalism itself is suspect." fandomsandfeminism Have you considered that not everyone would equate feeling a strong connection to their cultural heritage with nationalism? weiszklee Well that's kinda what I am asking. What other reason could there be besides nationalism? fandomsandfeminism there are many reasons that a person might feel connected to their culture and heritage that aren't specifically tied to nationalism. Like, this is a very US American perspective from me, but consider like... someone who is Cherokee or Tejano or African American. If they felt a strong connection to their culture and heritage, would you assume that was nationalism on their part? this might be a great time to remember that your experiences are not universal. weiszklee Well, indigenous cultures holding on to their heritage is kind of a reaction to the forces that try to suppress these cultures, no? So while I am still wary of this, because obviously yes it is nationalism, I can sorta understand it. Gotta hang tight to the things nobody can take from you and stuff. I don't see how this applies to Greece. I am aware that my experiences are not universal. That's why I explained my experiences, to make them legible from the outside. fandomsandfeminism I'm...not sure we are using the term nationalism the same way if you think that indigenous people in America having cultural pride is nationalism. like, again, this is a very American perspective. But like...to me, strong connection to cultural heritage tends to be a very minority and immigrant expression, and if anything tends to stand in opposition of American Nationalism (which would have you identify as *American* first and foremost). and with that in mind, this kind of connection to the cultural heritage of classical Greece has its own context as well. Applying your (very valid) experience as a German outside of the context of Germany...doesn't always work. Different cultures with different histories create different contexts for that kind of thing.

Firstly, I resent the insinuation that I only reject nationalism because I'm German. Nationalism is actually quite common here still, even in the mainstream, which I find quite worrying. I reject nationalism because I'm a) a humanist and b) a socialist. And I think nationalism a) stands in the way of the people of the world realizing their commonalities and working together for the good of all, and b) tries to paper over very real intra-national class differences. Living vicariously through one's nation's greats is a poor substitute for material liberation and emancipation.

I think these two aspects make for a good summary of my understanding of nationalism in general: Emphasizing (or rather constructing) firstly differences with other nations and secondly cohesion within the nation, whether the nation is defined legalistically, pragmatically, racially, culturally or however.

In a way, nationalism can also denote the status quo, of course. Our world is divided up into nation-states, and we just accept that this makes sense, that it makes a difference on which side of a drawn line someone is born. In this wider sense, all national liberation movements are nationalistic, too, but I would really only find that concerning if they try to establish themselves through nationalism in the stricter sense of emphasizing inside cohesion and outside differences.

With all that in mind, I can repeat the claim which you originally took issue with: Besides historical curiosity and neopagan reconstructionism, the only other reason I can see for being very invested in traditional (and even ancient) heritage is nationalism.

If you think there are other reasons, I would be interested to hear them. But your examples so far do look like nationalism to me (even though, again, they don't seem super threatening at the moment, because there is not much power behind them, and they mostly exist as a reaction to attempts of suppression, so it's reasonable to assume that with material liberation, the need for being so invested in "cultural heritage" would wither away over a few generations). Membership in the groups you mention is predefined, typically by being born into them, and the "cultural heritage" works to a) reinforce outside differences and b) emphasize inside cohesion even across class lines. So even though it doesn't seem particularly threatening at the moment, and I don't think it makes sense to expend too much energy working against it, I would not support this nationalism. There is no substitute for class struggle.

[thecinderninja]

A God in Two Parts

On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja

Barbatos is an incomplete god.

He exists in two planes, both living and dead. A god torn in half, a foot in two worlds. The living and the dead rarely meet;

He is only complete when they do.

There is no easy way to say it.

No words to adequately express the depth of what he means, without it sounding… bad.

Which is why Venti can’t help but feel guilty any time the passing thought crosses his mind; he really enjoys guiding the spirits of Mond.

It is one of his favourite job duties.

One of the few he always takes seriously, and never shies away from.

Obviously, it’s a complicated situation. No one would imagine for even a minute that the god thinking; “I really enjoy this part of my job” could in any way equate to “I really enjoy when my people die.” Of course not.

But sometimes he equates those two things.

After all… it simply isn’t right to ever feel that sense of relief at the feeling of a Child of Mond flickering out. He knows that. (He knows that).

It wouldn’t be as bad if he could say it was for entirely unselfish reasons.

If he could simply say; I feel a deep sense of peace when I guide those souls onward, knowing they’ve passed on to their own peace.

If he could simply say; I feel a sense of honour when they see me, and their fear fades, and they smile , and they thank me.

If he could simply say; I feel a sense of responsibility for the little ones, the true children , who seem so lost and scared, when they willingly take my hand and look up to me, and follow where I lead.

All of these facts are true. And they do not take away at all from the grief he felt at each loss. 

But really, his guilt stems from the fact that one selfish reason exists. All of these other reasons, perfectly valid in their own rights, mean nothing to him in the face of the fact that there is one selfish reason he looks forward to ferrying the dead.

One selfish reason that can not possibly justify the tiny thrill in his heart when he feels a soul call out on the wind.

The death of a Child of Mond means a meeting of two worlds. The living and the dead cross paths for one short moment.

Barbatos is at his most complete in these moments.

Though none in Mond know it - it is a story has never been told in the first place, has never existed to be later forgotten in time - Barbatos is an incomplete god.

He exists in two planes, both living and dead. A god torn in half, a foot in two worlds. The living and the dead rarely meet;

He is only complete when they do.

.

Venti picks his way down a long unused dirt trail outside of Springvale, breathing softly despite the strenuous trek, unaffected. The path is overgrown with wild grasses and encroaching bushes, clearly unmaintained, abandoned for many years. What a child was doing out here he couldn’t imagine.

A child of adventurers; curious, adventurous, fearless.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows.

He reaches the edge of a ravine - the drop is sudden and well hidden by the foliage. He doesn’t want to disturb the earth here, so rather than climb or slide down the soil, he simply steps off the edge and glides to the bottom.

A simple descent into the secluded hollow below, where the air is thick with the scent of damp earth and foliage. Here, the trees close in, their branches weaving a canopy that filters the sunlight into a gentle, dappled glow.

The body of a young girl lays on the ground. Her limbs are splayed awkwardly, her face pale and serene in the stillness of death. She fell from the edge of the ravine. The wind had tried to soften her fall, but it could only do so much when she didn't have a wind glider. (And often, "so much" is never enough).

There are two spirits in the clearing. The spirit of the young girl sits near her earthly remains. She is confused and a little distressed, her form flickering like a candle flame caught in a draught. Her eyes, wide and searching, take in the scene with a dawning awareness that something is terribly wrong.

Beside her kneels a boy. With dark hair and light eyes, his form more composed, a bard of old. He is smiling softly as he speaks to her; “-in time, but not now.” He wipes a tear from her face as her lower lip trembles.

“But… I want to see dad now. He can make everything better…”

The boy laughs softly. “He is away on an adventure, no? And so are you, now. You undertook such a grand adventure, won’t you see it to the end?”

She holds his hand tightly. “It was fun at first, but I’m scared now… I’d like to go home.”

“Ah… I understand. Adventures can be scary, can’t they? But you don’t need to do it alone. I may not be your dada, but I will-”

Venti lands in the hollow, his presence immediately noted by the spirits. The boy looks up, his eyes meeting Venti's with soft sympathy, and painful familiarity. The girl, sensing a shift, turns her gaze towards Venti, her confusion deepening.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice a whisper on the wind.

The boy stands, bringing the girl up by her hand to stand beside him. "This is Venti," he says with the warmest of smiles. Their eyes meet across the clearing, and he looks so happy . "The friend I was telling you about before. He’s going to help you.”

The girl looks at Venti, her eyes wide and hopeful. "I want to go home now," she says. "My adventure isn't fun anymore. I want to go back to my dad."

Venti kneels beside her, his expression tender. "I know," he says softly. "But you can't go back to your dad right now. You'll see him again in time, I promise. But right now, wouldn’t you like to see what lays at the end of your adventure?" 

The girl shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "It's scary," she whispers. "I don't like it anymore."

The spirit beside her reaches out again to brush away more of her tears. "All adventures get scary sometimes," he explains gently. "Or else they wouldn't be real adventures. But you won't be alone. I'll go with you."

The girl's expression softens a bit, relief washing over her. "You'll come with me?"

The bard smiles as he nods, but his eyes reflect a deep sorrow. "Yes," he says gently. "I'll go with you. I know it can be scary to be alone, but I promise you have nothing to be afraid of."

The girl looks up at Venti, her eyes wide with hope. "Will you come too?"

Venti can only shake his head, his heart aching. "No," he says softly. "I can't come."

"But why not?" she asks, voice confused, sad, almost petulant. "The two of you are friends, so why can't you both come with me?” She turns from Venti to look at the bard. “If we leave him behind, then he will be lonely."

Venti is too surprised to have an answer for her. She is right. She is right, but he can't tell her she’s right. The little girl looks even sadder, and it's his job to make her feel better, not worse. It's his job to bring her peace, even if she's right and he is sad. Lonely.

The bard takes a deep breath and steps in to explain. "Venti is staying behind to tell your dad where you've gone," he says gently. "So that he can find you again when the time comes."

"Oh," the girl says, her expression lightening a bit. "Okay. That makes sense."

The tension eases slightly, the girl's acceptance bringing a measure of peace to the clearing. Venti and the bard exchange a brief, knowing glance.

The two boys hold hands.

The two boys hold hands .

It is the most they ever have. Simultaneously so much and never, never enough.

Their fingers intertwine. They stand in the clearing beneath the weight of their shared duty. For a minute, they are both silent, longing to speak to each other, but knowing it will never be appropriate to sit and talk with a lost spirit between them. 

This is the only way they ever meet.

All they can do is hold hands as they guide the deceased, acting as though they are both alright and swallowing their own words. They have so much they want to say, but all they can do is grip each other's hand tightly, silently conveying those feelings; I'm here. I've been here all this time. I'll remain here far into the future. Eventually, eventually . Always a promise for something later.

(Eventually, when?)

(Eventually, what?)

They ask the girl to take their hands as well. She reaches out, taking one of each of their hands in her own, her small fingers curling trustingly around theirs. 

The girl looks at Venti, her eyes wide with fear and hope. "Thank you," she whispers.

Venti nods, his smile gentle and reassuring. "You're welcome," he replies. "Now, close your eyes and let go. Everything will be alright."

Venti and the bard summon their winds, a warm breeze rising up around them.

Only when the warm winds envelop them does the girl truly recognize them both; Barbatos . Her eyes fly open, wide in awe as the winds lift her spirit, carrying her gently toward the other side.

Venti and the bard watch each other fade away as their task is completed. Venti remains behind on the side of life, while the bard goes with the girl on the side of death. Their eyes meet briefly.

Venti is alone in an empty clearing beside the body of a child.

A child of Mondstadt he could not save. 

Her spirit is out of his hands now. It’s a bittersweet feeling. He knows she’s safe, to the greatest extent she can be. He knows she’s at peace. He knows she is with him , and that he won’t let any further suffering befall her.

None of that will mean anything to her father.

He’s completed his duty, and is left with the familiar aching hollowness it leaves behind. 

The fall after the high.

The feeling of a hand in his own; and the horror of clinging to the bard more tightly than the child.

The guilt that comes after. The fact that a child needed to die for him to have that brief moment.

How often does he ask himself; could he have done more? Could he have saved her? Did he let her fall? Just to see his friend? 

He is certain he did not. He would never. 

He would never.

He may be half of a god, but humans die . This is a fact, and he cannot change it. It is not his fault when they do.

(But… sometimes? Surely there are moments he could have done more, and hesitated).

Venti is long gone by the time the winds guide the searchers to the body.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: person A frequently touches person B's arm during conversations, leaning in close and laughing at all their jokes. person B, initially thinking person A is just very tactile, begins to notice the lingering touches and wonders if there's more to it.

Pairing: Crubbles

Bubbles is touchy-feely from the moment they meet. Finger to Harry's wrist to ask if he has any gum as they wait to board the train for navigator school. Harry gives him a piece, and Bubbles thanks him.

"I'm Payne, by the way," he says, pointing to his nametag. "Joe or Joey, but everyone calls me Bubbles."

"Why?"

"Took an antacid to try and calm my stomach before I tried out for pilot training. Turns out, you can burp bubbles."

Harry laughs without meaning to. "Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't--"

"Naw, it's okay," Bubbles says, and he touches Harry's elbow this time. He laughs quietly. "It's pretty funny. They give you a nickname?"

"I'm Crosby. Take a guess."

Bubbles laughs and leans close. "Well, what's your actual name? I could just call you that."

"Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. Thanks for the gum."

*

It's four days on the train to navigator school. Bubbles and Harry end up sitting across the aisle from each other the first few hours, then Bubbles's seatmate offers to switch with Harry since they're leaning in the aisle so much.

Harry agrees and drops next to Bubbles, who simply leans towards him again and keeps talking. Harry listens and laughs and tells his own story. By the time go to the sleeper car, Harry's so used to Bubbles touching his arm he doesn't even startle to feel the fingers on his back as Bubbles brushes past him to a bunk of his own.

"Night," Harry murmurs.

"Good night," Bubbles replies, and he reaches out and squeezes Harry's arm one more time before tucking his arms under his pillow to fall asleep.

*

They're a month into navigator training when it clicks for Harry. He's not sure exactly why he suddenly notices Bubbles touching him. Maybe because they're out with a group, and the local girls are gathered around to flirt. They're leaning in and laughing and touching the men on the arm, and when one does it to Harry as he finishes a story, he realizes that, for once, Bubbles isn't the one touching him.

He glances to his left, where Bubbles was sitting earlier. He's still there, just leaned in towards his own local girl. She says something, and he chuckles, but not like he does when Harry talks.

It makes something in Harry settle while something else starts to gnaw gently on his insides. He turns his attention back to his own girl, knowing the gnawing will reveal itself soon enough.

*

He figures it out the next week, when they're out again, but this time the girls have decided he and Bubbles aren't quite as cute as the last time they saw them. Harry doesn't blame them. They've both been up since yesterday, working on equations and stressing about the test they finished an hour ago. They look like hard-boiled hell.

"Naw, Harry," Bubbles says when Harry tells him. "You look like a sunny side up egg, same as always."

And the touch from Bubbles this time makes something warm curl in Harry's belly, makes the gnawing thing inside him go still. Harry looks at Bubbles's hand and feels brave. He leans in a little closer.

"If anyone's sunny around here, it's you," he says. "With that hair of yours, and your eyes. Blue like a clear day."

Bubbles ducks his head, and Harry's astounded to see him flush a little pink. "You figured me out, huh?" Bubbles says.

"Huh?" Harry asks.

Bubbles glances at him again, reading his face. His blush brightens, but so does his smile. He curls his hand good and snug around Harry's arm, just below the elbow, and he leans in that little extra closer. Their foreheads brush just a little. Neither of them startle. "Got a big crush on you, Harry. Have since I saw you at the train station. I thought, 'Wow, that's a handsome guy. So I asked you for a piece of gum just to really look at you, and I haven't looked away since."

Harry shakes his head. "You can't have had a crush this whole time," he says.

"Sure, I have," Bubbles replies. "Why not? You were nice right from the start. Didn't mind that I couldn't stop wanting to touch you."

Harry shakes his head harder, then stops when Bubbles sets his chin. "Okay," he says. "Maybe. Maybe you liked me right away."

"Course I did."

"And maybe I liked you right back," Harry says, thinking of saying goodnight on the train, of the way Bubbles squeezing his arm had felt so nice.

"Well, I'd hoped so," Bubbles replies, and he ducks his head again, presses his lips just above his hand, kisses the spot on Harry's elbow he touches the most. "And I hope you keep liking it."

"I'm sure I will."

[odinsblog]

ALICE RANDALL, on how she became a country music writer at the age of 23

Well, I decided to become a Black country songwriter and publisher. I was founding Midsummer Music because I was born in Detroit City in 1959, at the same year as Motown Records, and my father did not read books to me. He told me stories, and one of the stories he told me over and over was the founding of Anna Records that Barry Gordy's sisters had founded a year before Motown.

So he talked to me about women being song publishers and record company executives and songwriters, and I heard those stories and followed in Anna's footsteps.

On writing country melodies

I teasingly say that my melodies are so simple that when the ones I come up with, if I can sing them, the whole world can sing them, so it goes well for having hit sometimes. But I came to Nashville via Harvard in Washington, DC so I sort of took the skills that I learned analyzing the Harlem Renaissance poets and Shakespeare and Jane Austen, and I applied them to country lyrics. I love British metaphysical poetry and American metaphysical poetry, and it was alive and it was alive and hiding in country and western music, and I found it.

On race in the country music industry

The racial fault line in country is all around that theme of the past is better than the present. In much of white country, the past that is better than the present is a mythologized Dixie. In much of Black Country, the past that is better than the present, is a time in childhood where your parents were able, against all odds, to protect you, or a lost Africa before colonization that's manifest by nature.

On what makes a country song, country

Well, the equation is Celtic, that's English, Irish, Scottish ballot forms, plus African influences, plus evangelical Christianity equals country music. Don't have the Black influences, and you probably got folk music. Don't have the evangelical Christianity, and you may have blues.

It's emotional, and they're themes, the big themes of country, as far as I see it. Life is hard, God is real, the road, family, and liquor are significant compensations, and the past is better than the present.

On metaphors

Well, these lyrics, these really complicated lyrics such as, ‘Drop kick me, Jesus, through the goalpost of life,’ that's an extended metaphysical conceit. And you know what? On Beyoncé’s new album, Cowboy Carter, Bodyguard is another one of those extended, complex metaphors that we see all through country.

On Black women in country music

I feel actually a Juneteenth, which is good news at long last. Because I will be 65 May 4th, and I have been in country and western music for 41 years professionally.

When I arrived here in 1983, Charlie Pride had been to the number one spot 29 times. It was about to go up for another time. So many Black men have gotten to the number one spot.

I can't remember all their names, but literally not one Black woman performer had gotten there. There's a phrase I want to say, cultural redlining. Black women have been culturally redlined out of that.

They had not been given the economic resources to make the campaign to get there. And Beyoncé eclipsed all of that. And I can retire now with a joy that all three of the things I wanted to see, they got done.

One came in right at the last moment, wouldn't have gotten there without Queen B.

On representation and the first time she heard one of her songs performed by Adia Victoria, a Black woman

I cried. I cried. Just thinking back on it right now almost makes me cry again.

It changed the whole beginning of my book, because I knew I had to start with that moment. Over the years, I've been honored, and I tell the story. Glenn Campbell, Moe Bandy, Radney Foster, Tricia Yearwood, so many extraordinary stars had sung my songs.

But no one had ever looked like me had sung one of my songs. And more significantly, listeners thought all the heroes and sheroes in my songs were white, because the singers were white. And some of those heroes and sheroes, I had imagined them, all of them I had imagined as Black.

And I was willing and embraced people projecting their identities onto them, but I resisted the identities I had originally imagined and created being erased. And Adia Victoria added the color back to that cowboy. And 20 to 30% of all cowboys in the American West were Black and Brown, and they deserve to be remembered.

And if we don't remember them, we cannot properly encounter Cowboy Carter.

[tonberry-yoda]

Hello dear! Can we have a fluff alphabet for Johnny Joestar?? Please, I need more things about this guy😩💕

Johnny Joestar Fluff Alphabet

notes - fluff alphabet here. YES YES YES!! Johnny is my fav joestar and such a little sweet guy!!! <3 I want the anime for SBR out NOW DUDE! Well, anyways, I really hope you enjoy and I'm sorry this took so long!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

he loves the outdoors, so I think a lot of walks or picnics or dates outside

I also think he would just love cuddling, so a lot of stay in days as well with cuddles

he also LOVES deep convos, so a lot of the time, you two get into some deep stuff lol

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

your smile

^ he just loves that he can make you smile and will just stare at you, even if it's not him who made you smile

he just loves when you smile dude AHHHH

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

he is SO bad at comforting you

he just can't do it

if he sees you cry, he will start BAWLING

so he tries to like hug you or something and starts crying, so you both need a little break from each other until you're ready to talk

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

he doesnt really know how to explain it

he doesnt know if marriage is in the equation, or kids

but what he does know is that he wants you in his life forever

he literally cant see a future without you in it

so he knows you will always be a big part of his life and that means a lot to him

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I think we all know the answer...

look, you have to order a happy meal for him at mcdonalds because he gets too nervous

he's just a little guy

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

YES

he HATES fighting, so he avoids it at all costs

you guys don't really argue much because communication is important

he hates if you get mad seemingly over nothing and will start crying I think

so yeah, you rarely fight and if you do, a talk ensues rather quickly and he forgives you SUPER fast

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

HE IS SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU

you are his one and only and he is just baffled every day that you love him as much as you do

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

he doesnt hide anything

you two are very open with each other

but he doesnt overshare

if it comes up in a convo, he'll mention it, but he never purposely hides anything

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

oh 100%

his motivation comes from you a lot!

he isnt big on getting out of his comfort zone, but with some encouragement from you, it happens a lot!

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

he can be a little insecure, so yes

he knows how much you love him, but when he sees you talking to someone else, he can't help but feel a little bit jealous some of the time

to deal with it though, he will just hug you for a while and when you ask him what's wrong, he'll kind of ignore it and tell you how much he loves you

and you do the same and he's fine lol

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

YES YES YES YES YES

his lips are SO SOFT

and his kisses are SO LIGHT

AND HE LEAVES LIPSTICK MARKS

GOD

he doesnt even realize how hot it is when he kisses you and when you tell him, he gets flustered tee hee

the first kiss was on a picnic date and he actually went first, pressing the smallest kiss on your lips

after that, there are a lot of kisses tee hee

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

shaky voice

sweaty palms

and he tries to run off and trips over something, getting a bloody nose

you've been dating ever since

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

again, he doesnt know

he just knows he wants you forever

but if the convo came up and you would want to get married, he would propose like a couple days later and then you would get eloped!

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

teddy bear (when he's feeling EXTRA cheesy)

sweetheart (rarely)

usually just your name (shortened version of it if you like that)

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

F L U S T E R E D

he will just be so in love

lots of staring

clumsy

ALWAYS TRYING TO IMPRESS YOU BUT FAILING AND THEN TRIPPING OVER SOMETHING

AHHHHHH

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

he doesnt mind, but it gets him way more flustered then when you two are alone

even if you just hold his hand on a walk, he will blush like crazy

kissing him though?? you killed the poor man

he does brag about you in the quietest, cutest way ever

but he still gets shy in front of others, but doesnt mind a little PDA if you initiate

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

always reassuring you that he loves you

you will never forget that he loves you

he will give you little things or just remind you every day and you know how much he really does care about you

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

he can be pretty cliche

just silly little dates like dinner or picnics or something

but it's so cute nonetheless

but he will always change up date ideas based on things you like too

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

OH 100%

literally number one supporter

always trying to let you know that you can do it!

he doesnt help you a ton because he knows how achieving it is to do something on your own, but if you ask, no hesitation, he will help

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

nope! he loves you guys just the way you are and doesnt need anything crazy to be happy

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

he knows you crazy well

like he will bring home gifts saying that it reminded him of you and you lose it because literally its something you LOVE

he is super empathetic and will always always jump to help and give you love

but he will notice when you are off and ask how you can be cheered up for sure

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

he loves you SO MUCH

you are a big part of him and he doesn't want to lose you

having you by his side actually means the world and he loves your presence

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

best cuddler

very soft hugs and always warm

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

YESSSSSSSSS

he loves hugs and kisses and cuddles and everything you're willing to give

in private he is so so so so so so affectionate and cannot help but cuddle you all the time tee hee

always hugging you, even when you're busy

he's just like a little puppy

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

he doesnt like being lonely

he HATES IT

he was lonely for a long time until you came in, so when you have to be gone, he's kinda sad lol

he just sits and waits for you to get back basically

can't sleep for sure, he needs you for that lolol

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

oh, absolutely!

we saw how much he did for a friend, so for someone he loves, he will do anything

LITERALLY ANYTHING

he is your number one and you are his <3

~~~~~

jjba masterlist (2) (3) | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated <3

~~~~~

[sorenblr]

So, what are you and your friends' thoughts regarding Personas 1 and 2? And honestly, you can be as critical and as brutal in your replies as needed.

I can only speak for myself, but I'm very fond of both. The original has this really distinct, lugubrious atmosphere propelled largely by the music of Aoki, Okibe et al. It's a huge shame that English-speaking players are forced to choose between a version with an infamously compromised localization and a more approachable one that eradicates the aural identify of the original game.

I have a ton of affection for this era of Kaneko art as well. You can tell he was having a lot of fun using then-contemporary celebrities as references for the character designs; there was a certain facial idiosyncrasy that would be lost as he settled into his more distinctive, modern style. Also a big fan of the lanky, expressive sprites in both games- it's such a rarely deployed idiom.

The battle positioning and diffuse exp acquisition go a long way to diminish any satisfaction there might be in the battle mechanics, but I do appreciate the oddly terse dungeon design, which feels like a complete outlier among the first-person dungeon crawlers in the series.

I'll have more to say about the P2 duology once we revisit it for the stream, but I think these games are really singular. EP in particular has what I would consider the platonic ideal for character portraits in this style. Super eclectic, tons of heft to the construction, and clearly a lot of care invested in every expression. An early peak for this representational mode in the series.

The dungeons are kind of wretched. Brutal encounter rate, and these huge, nothing rat mazes that feel completely divorced from the urban structures they're intended to represent. Record stores do not look like that, they are in fact very small! Fuck off!!! The combat is functional but basically frictionless. Best negotiation dialogue in the series.

One thing that I love, and this is present to a lesser extent in P1 as well, is the way your party members will populate the various stores, shrines, parks etc. There's like 50 of these fucking places, and every new plot flag refreshes the dialogue for each character. They easily could have written so many variations of "Hey, are you sure we should be wasting time here instead of heading to (next plot destination)?", but almost every interaction is full of fun character-building moments that would otherwise have no place within the urgency of the narrative. I think this superabundance of tertiary dialogue is actually very charming when engaging with it is left to your discretion.

But most importantly, it's the perfect capstone to the fin de siecle obsession with the occult in Japanese pop culture as it had manifested in the previous two decades. The games throw absolutely everything into the equation- alien spaceships, divination, ancient prophecies, the NWO conspiracy, Lovecraft, the fucking Dan Brown Hitler subplot- everything was on the table. It's this fantastic summation of the Nostradamus/Y2K/Millenial zeitgeist of 1999, and just a great outlet for that sheer, Okada-Kaneko-propelled creativity. The modern games are incredibly anodyne in comparison.

hope all my guido guys out there enjoyed this post and no one scrolled past it b/c they thought I wrote fucking 7 paragraphs about kandori

[sharkjumpers]

this scene in particular strikes a chord with me because it is here in which the other believes he has killed the real timothy hunter--and thus winning his single player game, claiming the title of "real"... but he is injured in the process. in other worlds he heals himself with magic or has someone else take care of his injury, but in this instance he sits with it and looks down and asks himself, "is this what it means to be real?" his first act as a real person is to experience the sensation of pain (not that he couldn't before--again, we see him injured, but something is obviously different this time. this time it means something. this time he acknowledges something else that has happened to him as REAL).

i think it's interesting in conjunction with this sentiment the other continuously carries: no one he ever hurt was real, so their hurt didn't matter. he never really hurt or killed anyone because they weren't real. when... a) as we see he just equated pain to being real and b) that's just not true. it isn't *our* world, but that doesn't stop it from being *a* world. we see so many different tims living so many different lives--each with their own rich history, their own relationships, and a world full of people operating independently from them. their worlds are real, as far as i'm concerned... but the other always felt out of place, like something wasn't real about him. and when confronted with the reality of the nature of his existence and the inability to go back home, he eventually breaks. he really didn't really start out just killing tims--it was, initially, a horrible accident after attempting to help. Anyway my point here was going to be that if you're convinced that you AREN'T REAL, you're able to convince yourself that no one ELSE is either. if your existence and reality was a lie, everyone else is is TOO. there is an extreme level of dehumanization of self and others that lets him continue killing tim after tim or molly after molly or mom after mom or dad after dad.

which is evident even though he repeatedly makes statements like "i'm the realest/the only real thing in a thousand worlds". the level of denial here is insane ("have never killed--only shadows of reality"). but as much as deep down he knows he isn't real, he's also placing himself on a pedestal of realness that allows him to seperate himself from the people he hurts. my point here was gonna tie back to this:

the other consciously played god and used the other worlds as his own playthings and made a game out of becoming more real than all the rest and could not have gone on as he did unless he fundamentally didn't view them as real. the thousand worlds of timothy hunter were dead by his hand and he should have had the chance to reconcile with that and live with the price of the things he did to get where he is. you made it to the real world, but at what cost? is it somehow better than any of the other worlds? The answer is NO.

life is full of pain and suffering and whenever the other caused pain or suffering or encountered it, he used to be able to just run off to the next world or hide. (see the parallel to how whenever tim felt an emotion he subconsciously split it away from himself and in a sense ran from it and moved on.) now he can't. There are no other worlds!!! This is it!!! And here he admits he needs someone REAL (implying he ISN'T) to teach him HOW to deal with it because it SUCKS and he doesn't know WHAT to do with it. And he pleads with Tim to show him HOW to live in the real world and to help him become right again and make up for what He is and what he's Done. And it means a lot to me because!!

there is something about being so alone and losing a family (who, if i'm to take "how many times can you get even with mum and dad before it gets bloody boring?" at face value, were BAD) and losing your entire not-real world that was born of This very Real Boy Who is also Very Lonely and was Neglected and--

--you alone have this unique connection to him, he needs you and you need him, there is a fundamental place in the world and a promise of SOMEONE who won't be taken from you or who HAS to keep a connection to you, so you AREN'T ALONE. And it's YOURSELF. and that's crazy BUT THEN HE JUST DIES. WHAT!!!

[diminuel]

My voices in my head are seeking answers and they won't stop until getting them.

Tell me more about that AU were the Winchesters and Castiel are in the One Piece World.

PD: because of you I did my 100° rewatch of Supernatural. Man, I did really miss that show.

It's a good show!!

I haven't really thought about it much yet! Generally, I would set it very early on in S13. I am currently toying with setting it post 13x06 Tombstone, but with the change that Jack doesn't run off. The fact that Castiel fixed the situation for him (the guard survived) is both beneficial but also an issue going forward. Because if Jack uses his powers and it backfires, Cas will be there to fix it, right? It leads to a dangerous mix of "there's a part of me that is evil and monstruous, but what makes me evil and monstruous also makes me useful for Dean and Sam" and "if the world blows up, Cas will fix it :3".

So when he opens a portal into another world, one of Team Free Will's main concerns is that the kid will a) blow up that world if he's not under parental supervision or b) topple the interdimensional card house that Billie warned Dean about.

They're not sure how it works with world within worlds, because for them, this is world that exists as fiction within their own dimension. (Much like the Scoobynatural episode, but they haven't experienced that yet at that point) Castiel probably has some complex mathematical equations to philosophize about whether this is real or a pocket dimension created by Jack. But whatever metaphysical reality applies they can still get hurt and they don't want to change the world in a way that means Dean is going to see his face appear in the actual real world manga, Carver Edlund's Supernatural books are bad enough.

I don't know for sure where the portal would drop them apart from straight into the ocean. Would they start where Luffy started, in the East Blue? Or would they land on the Grand Line? When would this be set in the OP storyline? Are they already in the New World? I imagine that Jack quickly gets involved with Luffy's crew because he knows the story, he knows where to have adventure. And I think that's what he cares about at this point? Parents at work, kid is bored, might as well have an adventure (and he completely loses track of time and the portal back home.)

In any case, TFW's goal is to find Jack before something bad happens. And since this is Destiel, Dean and Cas probably also have to figure out their romance while they're sailing X'D

(I assume that Baby shows up in the world too, like in Scoobynatural, just as a ship, which Dean has a fit over. But since this is a goofy world, he can just navigate as if it was a car and it miraculously works. It has no weapons, but it has Cas as defense and compass, which is why they can also cross the Calm Belt. They also have radio and whatever the Teleschnecke / Den Den Mushi is called in English reception at all times due to Sam's wifi powers)

I don't think they'll pose as pirates. I'm not sure what cover Dean comes up with (since he's the one who is familiar with the manga/ anime). He could say that they usually hunt monsters or that they're researchers, "not from around here" and that they are looking for their kid that ran away. Everyone can tell that there's something bizarre/ not quite right about them. Maybe they assume they are from an island in the New World or maybe even from the Red Line.

At first they will have absolutely no idea where Jack is and angel radio doesn't work here (but the air is full of voices, Cas barely can hear anything because the world is constantly screaming at him when he tries to communicate with Jack).

I think it would be fun if the first clue they get is because a wanted poster is issued for Jack because he destroyed a whole fleet of ships just like that (and this is where TFW starts to worry, because sure, this happens in the manga too without much fanfare, but those are hundreds of people that technically die). But since he has such fire power, different fractions are becoming interested, especially if he hangs out with the Straw Hats. Does that mean he's a pirate? A threat to the World Government? Or could he be used?

Also, I think it would be even more fun if Dean's got a lot of half knowledge about the world because he hasn't really been keeping up and he doesn't know what's speculation he read on reddit (or wherever) or what's confirmed truth, but he is confidently wrong (or shockingly correct) about things. He does know about Crocodad and just assumes it's real. Is it? Will it be because Dean believes it? Who knows! *lol*

While Jack will be having an adventure with the main characters, I wonder who Team Free Will will end up with working together. Revolutionary Army?

Does this AU have an actual plot? Not really. I don't know how to do a "case fic" format in the One Piece world X'D Like, I have read One Piece but I don't know how to sneak in a canon compliant contained adventure. Pick an island with an issue, fix the issue, sprinkle in some character development or lore that ties in to the bigger narrative, sail on? I guess. *lol*

P.S. I think Cas has a female vessel, but due to the nature of the world the laws of physics don't apply to his boobs so not wearing a bra and having his shirt all open is no problem at all. X'D (It is a problem for Dean though, who has thoughts and feelings about their recently resurrected buddy looking like that.)

[rayssyscourse]

DID is a rare disorder. Except, on tumblr and discord, it isn't for some reason. There are statistically too many people, mostly young teens to early twenties, who have self diagnosed with this disorder. I do not think they are intentionally faking, to be clear. I think that those ages have more turbulent emotions and struggles with identity, and that likely the rampant misinformation being spread online has made them feel connected and seen by the "symptoms" they've read about. Most of you folks would benefit from roleplaying! It really can be therapeutic and it kind of is what y'all are doing anyway, even unintentionally. It's just sad seeing so many people identitying so hard with something that they just do not have. I've already seen people dealing with the embarassment and fallout of having to admit to themselves and others that they do not have alters, or amnesia, or anything like that. None of them were faking on purpose! They really thought they had DID! But they didn't. And neither do the vast majority of people online: it's why there is so much discourse. People cannot agree on what DID is because they are not reporting consistant experiences. No other disorder has discourse this bad online, discussed as if it were a fandom. I just wish this could be talked about more without people getting defensive. It might help some of you youngsters out.

Okay, I've got a lot of thoughts on this. I just want to start this by saying that I think you have some valid concerns and are making some good points, but the delivery is just all over the place and I think it's coming across as trying to make points that you don't intend. So for a while here I'm going to nitpick at your phrasing or comments, but just know that I'm not doing it to be mean or because I think you're totally wrong or whatever; I respect your viewpoint regardless and appreciate you sending it in, and am not trying to frame you as being bad faith or absolutely wrong or whatever. :)

First, to get this out of the way, I don't know if the "you" is supposed to be me or just the community in general, but if it's me, I do not claim to have full-blown DID, because I... don't have it. My psychiatrist, primary care provider, several therapists, and various psych evaluators over the years have confirmed that I a) have dissociation issues, b) have several distinct parts (headmates), and c) have these issues due to trauma, and have chosen not to diagnose me with DID because I do not fit all the criteria. That's about as specific as I'm going to get, but just know that everything I say or claim about myself is because that's what my doctors told me.

One thing I take issue with in this ask is the "you should try roleplaying, it's what you're doing anyway". I don't speak for anyone else, but last I checked, my amnesia, derealization, and cognitive dissonance doesn't really sound like a roleplay to me. It's also just a toxic mindset overall to get yourself in that people with certain issues are "probably just roleplaying". Same with the "arguing like it's a fandom" thing--first of all, syscourse isn't usually confusion about what defines DID, at least right now syscourse is mainly origin-discourse and the relationship of plurality to dissociative disorders. Very few people are arguing about what defines DID, and those who are are usually speculating about a heavily-underresearched disorder and possible causes and effects and stuff. Also, I feel like it's kind of just disrespectful to equate people's real illnesses, struggles, and identities to 'fandom discourse'.

Also, not to "um actually" at you, but the statistics you appear to be referencing are skewed. Yes, DID is a rare disorder. Yes, you will find lots of people talking about it on Tumblr. System communities and adjacent communities will inevitably have rates of dissociative disorders that appear disproportionate when compared to that of the general population because that is what they're there for. People form groups based on shared experiences all the time, thus different communities are going to attract people that share common qualities with their members. This is like going to a clothing store and complaining that there's too many clothes and not enough groceries as compared to the general store down the street. Like, yeah... that's because it's tailored to a more specific group; it's not meant to be representative of the general public.

Another thing is the whole "but what if you end up being wrong?" thing. I get where you're coming from--I have been in a place before where I thought I had a disorder and was then told I didn't have it, and it was genuinely difficult, because I thought I had an important aspect of myself figured out, but it turned out that I didn't. Self-discovery and identity are hard things, and you are absolutely right that the teens and early-twenties are the most turbulent time for developing one's identity. This is why I discourage jumping to conclusions about one's mental health or identity--and a lot of people in this community do the same. I don't think it's wrong to self-diagnose because self-diagnosis is the first step in a hell of a lot of actual diagnoses, and there's a million reasons why someone might not want or be able to access the medical care required to get a diagnosis. Obviously, it requires immense research and understanding, and personally I think it's harmful to self-diagnose with zero intention of ever seeking help, etc. And yes, people can be wrong, and it can be hard to admit that. But that's true of literally everything. It doesn't seem right or fair to me to immediately shoot down people who think they might have a legitimate illness "in case they might be wrong and feel bad about it". Furthermore, whether you like it or not, we kind of have to take people at their word when they tell us what they're experiencing. If they say they're experiencing plurality, who are we to tell them "no you're not"?

All that said, you do have a point that online spaces and unqualified people spreading misinfo can be very damaging to people and make them more confused, not less, about their identities. But I think the question we're asking shouldn't be "how can we stop this", it should be "how can we help these people?". Diagnosed or not, disorder or not, plural or not, we should support people when they say they are experiencing something confusing or difficult.

That's not to say that I think you don't want to support people; from the way your ask was worded at least, I don't think you're arguing from bad faith or malicious intent. But I do think a lot of your points are misguided.

Regardless, thank you for the ask, and I hope you have a lovely day! <3