#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.

[ohmyclematis-alwaysbymyside]

giyuu's idealism and moral compass because my brain will explode (part 2/2) if you stumbled upon this before reading the first part, here.

part two: are giyuu's actions influenced by morality, logic, feelings or intuition? (note: this is my interpretation and is going to be messy)

one of the things I find so interesting about giyuu is how the author placed him out of all the characters in the beginning and end of demon slayer and how we get to see his thoughts while making a choice so that we can learn about him as a character. based off of my experience at least, people see him as either the good guy who does no wrong or the embodiment of hypocrisy. no in between. and I believe this misses the point. let me (peacefully) go through the (two) main dilemmas he's put in

1) you're running to a mission because your ancient crow messed up the orders (again) and find a demon trying to eat someone. when you try decapitating the demon, the human it's trying to eat deflects your attack. like the empath you are, you ask "what the fuck?" and the human ie a teenager replies "that's my sister!!!" and starts rambling on about how she would never kill anyone (she tried eating him). you start projecting a little bit too much and both of you argue for a while and BOOM! HE THROWS AN AXE- SHIT- THE DEMON LEAPS AT HIM! SHE'S ABOUT TO EAT HIM-

it- no no no... she protected him under the impression that he was in danger despite being injured and not a single demon has ever done that before! she really might be different!! do you:

a) spare the demon

pros → she could be different, her brother has great potential and determination (he could become the next water pillar!), she hasn't killed anyone, you protect someone and follow your own principles.

cons → you're going against the rules meaning that there will be consequences, she can kill her brother later, you're going against rules, no one ever dared do this before, urokodaki probably won't help you out

b) kill the demon

pros → you don't break rules, the boy is certainly safe from her, you do your job, this decision is safer

cons → she's an innocent person, her brother lost everyone else (you failed to save them) and he'll probably be depressed, she really could have been different from other demons and it'd be a wasted chance.

in the end, giyuu spares her. his decision ignores what would be deemed as "common sense" just for the possibility of it being ethical and relies on logic as well as a bit of instinct. wouldn't it be terrible of him to kill an innocent girl who ended up unfortunate circumstances that he failed to prevent? anyone would've ended her before even reaching this point but currently he's in a position of a pillar, someone who should support people. sure, he's going against the law but does he care? giyuu abides to his principles strictly but how far will he go to for their sake? choosing not decapitate a demon is to go against everything the corps stands for and lose the respect of basically everyone. the corps exists exclusively for getting rid of demons. on a surface level, his disobedience would be deemed as immoral. but then again, the fundamental reason demons are assassinated is because they kill humans and nezuko has proven that she won't eat humans no matter the circumstances. he saw it with his own eyes. this shows that breaking rules doesn't automatically equate to immorality and they shouldn't be blindly followed. giyuu not letting rules restrict him and choosing to be open minded so that he can do what he deems as the right thing brings me so much life especially considering how the belief that killing without hesitation equates to being powerful is so enforced. giyuu doesn't mindlessly kill. he assesses his situation. he rethinks his choices. days after encountering the kamados, he's still thinking about his decision and mentally reciting tanjiro's words.

do u know the most fever dream-ish thing about this? he's put in another moral dilemma in the end with the same pair of siblings.. except that their dynamic is completely switched. sigh...

2) after the battle has ended, you find the boy whom you might as well refer to as family dead, start crying, and continuously saying sorry in your head and wait? is that a heart beat? blinking? OH SHIT-

TANJIRO TRANSFORMED INTO A DEMON. what do you do :3

a) attack and decapitate him

pros → everyone's efforts to eradicate demons won't all go to waste.

cons → you're probably going to die due to blood loss and exhaustion and the boy whom you protected for so long will die.

b) don't decapitate him

pros → you won't have to go through the mental torment of fighting.

cons → everyone is going to die and demons will continue to exist.

the choice might seem obvious but if you were the only conscious person, on the brink of death, and had to make a decision with such limited possibilities, acting quickly would be difficult. giyuu chooses the former. the deceased slayers and pillars did not die for this. I have seen some ppl call this blatant hypocrisy. "he's trying to kill tanjiro despite loving him" that's the point! does he want tanjiro dead? of course not. and yet, he still has to suck it up and fight him anyways because if he lets their bond affect his next decision, their work will go to waste and the remaining survivors will die. I cannot stress the development in this. before, he used to rethink his decision repeatedly to make sure that he's doing the right thing but now? he doesn't doubt himself and instantly does the right thing. I call this character development. he doesn't give up on the possibility that tanjiro could be kept alive but until that happens, he's making sure that no one dies. overall, his decision in more rational and selfless. he attempts to kill him quickly and-

WAIT- HE'S IMMUNE TO THE SUN? this situation has become hopeless and your chances of winning have been reduced to practically nothing. two more survivors attempt to help you out and BOOM

HE BITES HIS SISTER- WAIT HE'S NOT EATING HER? (this feels like horrible gameplay) so not only is he immortal and immune to the sun, he also has a bda. giyuu has no choice but to cling to the hope that tanjiro might have some humanity left in him and could be turned back into a human just like his sister. is his decision rational? no! nothing logical can be done in this situation anymore and the chances of an outcome that isn't failure is practically non-existent. but maybe he could save everyone. maybe he could turn tanjiro back human. maybe he could protect people and not fail again. he's still doing what he sees as the right thing knowing damn well that he's being irrational. (I genuinely believe that this fight with tanjiro is supposed to parallel his encounter with nezuko in the beginning because he's the person who fights him the most. the same pair of siblings where one of them is a demon while the other is desperately calming them down. no objectively correct choices. yet, he chooses to risk everything for the sake of possibly doing the morally good action and relies on intuition) more fighting happens, kanao arrives, uses medication on him, and with the power of friendship and will to live (and medication), he thankfully turns back to normal.

I love the way the narrative shows us that giyuu did the right thing in the end one way or another. sparing nezuko led to the final battle and eventually muzan's defeat and fighting tanjiro despite their close bond served as a distraction and helped in turning him back human. another cute detail I believe emphasizes this is that in kanji, the gi (義) in giyuu means justice and the yū (勇) translates to courage.

and here's the very last part of my delusional shitpost

giyuu is amazing, wonderful, *insert positive adjective* as a pillar. he understands the position he's in well. but as a coworker and employee? we see giyuu as the good guy because the story is told from tanjiro's pov and most of his actions can be defended because they were done for the greater good but do you know what can be difficult to excuse? his asocial behavior towards everyone (especially the pillars)

imagine you're shinobu here. you're (not so) peacefully doing your job and your coworker who is supposed to be on your side just decides to go against you and let a demon live without explanation. this panel shows how important context is. and do you know who would do literally anything but explain themselves? (tbf, he does try but is cut off. this applies more to his other shenanigans) if we had as much knowledge on this situation as shinobu, giyuu would be the one in the wrong. he somehow gets easier but also harder to defend later on in the meeting. even though giyuu was being a bit of an asshole to tanjiro after the fight with rui, he at least helped him and nezuko get away. when the morning arrives and tanjiro is literally injured, tied up, and surrounded by people who want him dead, giyuu was doing jack shit

he could be doing literally ANYTHING but stare into nothingness like that. buddy fight for your cause. and before anyone says that it's because of his inferiority complex, this is him by the way:

he prevents shinobu from doing her job, he distracts sanemi so that tanjiro can hit him strongly enough, and he grabs iguro's arm while simultaneously cutting the ropes off of tanjiro's wrists. giyuu does have an inferiority complex but he will take measures to get others out of his way if they attempt to harm the kamados ie result in him failing to protect them. if giyuu was actually scared of the pillars, he would not be doing any of this, let alone spare a demon. so giyuu was capable of defending tanjiro from the beginning. he simply chose not to do and only interfered when/after sanemi stabbed nezuko. (😭)

giyuu in general seems to stir up copious amounts of drama with the other pillars and when you reflect on all the shenanigans that happened between them until now, the realization that this is mainly giyuu's fault lowkey dawns upon you. the light novel confirms it

the manga confirms it

and whenever he does choose to speak, it's to insult people.

as we learn later on, giyuu's words were misinterpreted and his social isolation was a result of his imposter syndrome. but how far can this go? the hashira don't have the context that we do and giyuu just plays into their belief of him. if someone states "i'm not like you" anyone would perceive it as condescending especially considering how his facial expression is described to "make others think that he was looking down on them" in the LN. giyuu not wanting to talk to the pillars is one thing but not cooperating with them is a more significant problem. (especially when he refused to participate in the pillar training despite being aware of how much of a dire situation the corps was in. this is arguably the definition of hypocrisy) the LN states that all the pillars put effort into cooperating with each other no matter how hard it was for some of them and that giyuu was the only person who didn't bother doing so. this begs the question, can giyuu's behavior really be excused or defended? nope. don't defend him. he doesn't always have to be the good guy in every conflict. there is literally no logic behind his actions here. some of yall defend him too much especially considering how he canonically isn't the nicest. that's the dude who shamelessly knocked out a 13 year old. sure, his guilt plays a heavy role in his actions but this should only be used as an explanation not an excuse. "giyuu's behavior was heavily influenced by trauma and doesn't inherently mean that he's a bad person" and "giyuu is the person in the wrong and the pillars' hatred towards him is perfectly understandable" are two factual statements that can, in fact, coexist. *cue clapping*

conclusion paragraph? just stop reading!! (giyuu is inherently a good person who strives to do the right thing and values morality and logic regardless of any negative consequences as shown in the manga multiple times. however, he sometimes makes wrong decisions that are influenced by feelings more than anything because at the end of the day, he's meant to be a flawed character and that's fine)

"why is this five days late?" a weird mixture of internet problems, having to urgently travel, and mommy issues. sorry everyone 😔

[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.

[jellyjellyghost]

Can I kiss you?

yoongi x gn!reader

CW: Kissing, fluff, just silly times, Jelly not knowing how to write kissing scenes

WC: 600-ish

Here's a little drabble! It's a little longer than a book definition drabble- but it feels like one to me soooo •𐃷•

also- idk if I'll be expanding on this-

✧˖°.꒷꒦︶꒷🪼꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹

“Hey,” Yoongi calls out to you. You look up when he enters, immediately recognizing him by his sweet voice. “Hi Sugar,” you coo at him looking up from your mathematics study party. The papers sprawled all over your bed, as you attempt to tidy them so that Yoongi may be able to sit down. You pat the bed eagerly after clearing a space and pull him into a deep hug, breathing in his wood, patchouli and amber smell. You tug gently at the baby hairs at the nape of his neck, melting into his embrace as he soothingly rubs shapes onto your back. 

He pulls away from you gingerly, a gummy smile growing on his face. “You’re so pretty,” he breathes out. You slap his arm in a playful manner, “Stop that,” you say, embarrassed. He giggles, and pets your face, “Can I kiss you?” He says shyly. You put your arms around his shoulders, “Yes, you can kiss me.” 

He pulls you into him, leading your lips to his, both of his cool hands grip your face. You become captivated by his brown eyes. Your breath mixes with his, and your noses bump each other. Your lips meet in a sweet and sensual embrace, you pull yourself square against his body, causing you to be practically on top of him. You tighten the hold on his hair, massaging his scalp, causing him to groan out. You use this as an opportunity to swipe your tongue into his mouth, carefully asking for permission. He hums against your lips and puts his tongue in your mouth. Your tongues fight for dominance, swirling and rubbing over another like a dance only you and Yoongi know the moves to. You move his hands from your face onto your hips and he slides his fingers under your shirt. You pull away for a breath and place your hands on his jawline. “Ow!” You playfully wince with a smirk on your face. 

Yoongi’s eyes furrow in worry, “What? Did I do something wrong?” “Oh your jawline is just so sharp I think I might’ve cut myself!” You tease him. He rolls his eyes but still laughs at you. “I’ll have to kiss it better for you then.” 

He grabs your hand, and pulls it to his face gently peppering delicate kisses onto your palm. 

“Hey Y/N~ I thought I’d just- Not again!” Your best friend and roommate Jung Hoseok whines, as he saunters in unannounced, right to you practically sitting on top of Yoongi, and his mouth on your hand. 

You jump away from Yoongi, straightening out your shirt, and quickly shifting through your pile of papers, acting like you were not just kissing your boyfriend in your room (which is not illegal btw). 

You stand up in front of Hoseok, Yoongi frozen on the bed, with his hands still pretending to cup yours. “Hey Hobi, my bro, my bestie-” You pull at your fingers nervously. 

“I didn’t mean to just barge in I just thought-” He rambles off staring at Yoongi, who’s still frozen on the bed. “Yoongi, I can still see you, what do you think I’m a dinosaur or something?” 

He quickly shakes off what he saw with a joke. Yoongi places his hands in his lap, he is screwed. “Just thought I might try it out.” Yoongi says with a nervous chuckle. Hoseok giggles at him but his eyes are dark. 

“AH- Hobi, we were just studying!” You attempt to defuse the awkward situation, “Studying what? Human Anatomy?” Hoseok claps back, your eyes widened. “It’s fine! I’m here now so we can all study together!” Hoseok clasps his hands together.

You grab a few extra pencils for Yoongi and Hoseok, and sit down on your bed, making sure you are an acceptable distance from Yoongi. Hoseok walks over and places himself right in between you and Yoongi. “Let's study now shall we?”

Yoongi gives you a loving look from behind Hoseok, then you all dive into your first equation. 

✧˖°.꒷꒦︶꒷🪼꒦︶ ๋⭑꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹

Chat- this is an old work of mine but I'm proud of it so I thought it deserves the title as my first published work

Please reblog or comment if you like it!!

Have an amazing day! (づ> v <)づ♡

[truuskn]

As someone whose first interaction with Prowl was in the G1 cartoons, you absolutely get it. There needs to be more of Prowl written like that and not always delegated to being a prick.

first of all, i absolutely agree. secondly, actually, the situation with how the fandom sees prowl is very curious. and kinda unique? i may be wrong, but it seems to me as if his idw version has affected his character much more than other idw versions affected people's views on other characters. i'll explain that in a moment but let's start from afar :D

i think the version of prowl you meet for the first time can really make a big difference in how you see his character in the long run. i first met prowl through idw and it played tricks on me. you know, i actually like idw prowl, but i have 2 problems with him:

a) he's a poorly written character. the idea is good, i really think so, but the writers didn't do a good job. he has a lot of interesting moments, but if you look at him in the perspective of the whole story... nope. bad job. i'm not going to talk on this topic, i've seen discussions about this on tumblr more than once, so some wise people have already said it all for me a long time ago :D

b) he's... technically the only nasty, manipulative jerk prowl among his other variations? but his popularity makes it seem like all prowls have always been like that. and when i first started getting to know this franchise i thought so too... i thought he was like that everywhere and all the time

when i first started reading tf comics i only did it with knowledge of tfp, rid-15 and rescue bots and i immediately jumped right into mtmte. i didn't watch g1 or any other shows. i didn't understand who was who or what was going on. and i automatically started hating prowl, because, well, everybody hated him?? even comics characters?? i thought it was the right thing to do. i didn't know anything about him, but because of his image in the comics and fandom i just accepted that he was a prick, a bad guy, a bastard and hated him. and i didn't want to get to know him any further

so when i finally started watching g1 and especially reading marvel comics i was so surprised... what the?? who's that?? why is prowl like this?? and i didn't understand what was going on at all again. yeah, it took me some time to realise that in this fandom in different continuations sometimes the only similarity from the same character may be the name alone (tfa prowl, tfa elita, tfp arcee, yk)

so it was marvel comics that made me love prowl. this is my favorite version of him. i'll write more about him someday but in short i'm just in love with how loyal, faithful, hopeful and kind he is here, how he fights despair, how continues to move forward no matter what, how hardships bend but don't break him... ugh. so many good stuff with him. especially the exodus arc (i don't remember what it's officially called but it's the one with the op death, leader grimlock and withering cybertron). anyway, perfect prowl in my mind. without him i'd probably just forget about prowl and focus on other characters. so i really miss him being like this. and even tho rn i appreciate and love any version of him, i think he's interesting both as a calm, cold and collected person and as a ninja bot and as an asshole, etc, etc, but still. it took me a while to get into it and i don't think i was the only one. it's sad that idw image is hurting this character and his legacy. again, i still like this version of him, but i don't like this situation

so. i wish people would stop automatically attributing the same characterisation to him everywhere. for some reason i get the impression that prowl is the only one this happens to? megatron, for example, can be a gratuitously bad guy, a tragic villain, a redeemed hero (which i'll be honest i like in tfe but hate in idw) - and everyone is used to it. no one equates him to one characteristic, knowing that it can easily change, he's accepted differently. but for some reason it doesn't always work with prowl... anyway, i really hope we see more variety with prowl in the future. preferably in the direction of g1. i really like tfe and idw2 takes on him! and i'm very interested to see what he'll be like in skybound (well, if he ever appears there, haha)

[hpowellsmith]

I'm actually someone who looks at word counts when it comes to PURCHASING IFs!

So I can explain my thought process!

First of, the "purchasing" is a bit caveat here. I'm stingy, and I look at word count VS price as a factor when buying. If I see a 200k word story at the same price as a 700 word one for example, I will be wary of what it entails.

There's also the fact I always liked longer stories as a rule of thumb. A 13 episodes show? I will watch it if I'm REALLY into the pitch or if I know other seasons are in the making. A 50 episodes show? As long as it seems like my kind of story, I will watch it because I know I'm in for a long adventure and that I'll have time to truly grow attached to the characters. That's cause I know myself, and I'm always left frustrated if a work of fiction is too short.

So when I say I usually "ignore" stories that are less than 100k words it's because chances are pretty low for it to hit the spot since: a) no matter how optimized the code may be, that IS quite short as a wordcount. b) if it isn't very short, it means it has very little branching, and I usually prefer IF with more branching to begin with.

But back at the caveat. This is still because when I pay for something, I don't want to be disappointed. If it's a free story, I won't look at the wordcount because "even if I'm disappointed, I didn't loose anything by playing it". If it's not free, then the pitch has to really catch my eye to buy it. So really, it's a matter of money more than anything else.

Now, there's the fact this is mostly about choicescript based games, and I'm very used to the code of these. So if I'm hesitant, I may code-dive the demo to check the appeareance of the code and know if it's optimized or not. Seeing the way a game is coded gives me a clearer idea of what the word count may equate to and so, to the "true length" of the story.

Now, another caveat is access to the WIP!

When I follow the story update by update, making it episodic, it feels longer, especially if the author answers character asks, posts extra content and stuff. Because that sort of "adds content" to the story. In these instances, even a 70k words story feels (and technically IS) longer, thanks to the extra stuff. But if I just find a completed game on Steam well... I don't have all of that. So usually, if I follow a WIP from start to finish, I actually tend to purchase the game no matter what, even if I'm not planning on replaying it soon. Unless I really disliked it, but as long as it didn't come crashing down at the ending, there is no reason for that if I actually followed it for so long.

That doesn't mean I never purchase shorter IFs, word count wise. But for me to do so, like mentionned above, I have to REALLY love the pitch. It's especially true since I play a LOT of IFs. And I really mean a LOT. Both choicescript and twine based ones. I just have to be selective in one way or another if I don't want to lack time for anything else in my life or spend too much money on it, and word count is a factor like any other. If I know I prefer longer stories as a rule of thumb, then best to give precedence to 500k+ words IF rather than ones around 100k words which are bound to be shorter even if more optimized code wise. At least when money is a factor, of course.

Ultimately, considering I do it myself (and considering my reasons) I can't imagine not doing so, I think being mindful of word count is just something influenced by how each person's brain is wired, and both doing so and not are valid ways of thinking. At the end of the day, I prefer to support an author I know and love on patreon than spending the same money on multiple stories that are too short for what my tastes usually are. I will never actually ignore an IF with an interesting pitch (despite the phrasing I sometimes use), but I will be WAY more careful about purchasing a shorter one.

(sorry for taking so long to post this, it's from nearly five months ago when I was asking people about how game wordcount factors into whether they play/buy!)

That makes a ton of sense, thank you for sharing!

I hadn't actually thought about the fact that most people play WIPs chapter-by-chapter (or in whatever kind of small chunks) over a long period of time, so that may contribute to when someone says a completed game feels "rushed" - it's the same amount of time, but the former is spread over way longer so it'll feel like a longer game.

[verysanebsdfan]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟸: ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ

The Perfect Equation: Good morning world

Ishigami Senku x fem!reader

masterlist tpe masterlist

<previous ・・・・・ next>

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"I cannot afford to fall asleep," I repeat to myself for the umpteenth time. "The sum of the areas of the two squares on the legs (a and b) equals the area of the square on the hypotenuse (c). Yes. The Pythagorean Theorem." How else to keep yourself occupied other than repeat stuff you learned long, long ago?

Then suddenly, I hear cracking, and I can finally open my eyes, and slowly but surely shake off the thing off myself. "What is it? Stone?" The small fragments or the strange stone that was enveloping me for what seemed like eternity finally fell off, and I was able to stand up. I take a look around. "Where am I?" I mutter under my breath.

The landscape looks different, but there was one thing that assured me. Mt. Fuji. I can see it...

I decided to look around. I am hungry and thirsty. I must find some stream or a river. The sun is just warm. I'd say it's mid-spring. My head is pounding, and I am tired, mentally, I mean. I've been awake for so long that all the buildings have disappeared. Well, awake? No. Only conscious. Which is good, I suppose.

After what seemed like hours of walking, I heard a splashing sound. Water!! I ran towards it and was met with the sight of my dreams. Well, current dreams. Water! I immediately crouched down and looked at the water. "Seems clean enough," I state and gulp down what feels like 2 liters of water, even though it was probably less.

I can finally think clearly; I am no longer dehydrated. Okay. So, do I know what happened? Not at all. Can I figure it out? More or less, yes.

"So, what do I know?" I mutter to myself. Long ago, I was turned into a stone statue, just like everyone I met on the way here. Since there are no buildings around, that must mean the civilization fell. Did the whole world meet the same fate, or did it happen to just some places? Unknown. Where am I? In japan. Probably somewhere else then I was when it happened, must have been nature, maybe some floods came? Seems realistic. I was in Tokyo when it happened. Now, when I look at Mt. Fuji, it looks like I am somewhere around Hakone. I know how it looks here since my grandparents used to live here, and I spent my summer breaks there.

"My best course of action would be to go look around- no actually, I should find shelter and- I'M NAKED?!" I screech. How did I even not notice- well, I mean, no one is probably awake, but still. I soon find some vines to wrap around myself. "Nice," I snicker, "I just hope there were no insects, or worse, spiders, in it."

・・・・・

It's been twenty-six days since I woke up. I have been progressing quite well, I now have a small sleeping place on a tree and also a storage on the ground. I first intended to make it all on the tree, but I am no architect.

Getting food has been no problem for me. There is quite a lot of greens and mushrooms around. All kinds of herbs as well; I found some that have medical use! Which is good in case something ever happens. I also managed to hunt down a doe. It did not make me happy, of course, but I had a lot of meat for some time. I ended up smoking some of it, so it hopefully lasts a little longer. But most importantly, I had skin to make clothes.

I created myself a flowy dress, since if it was tight, it could run up when I would be working or running, and that'd be annoying. I also made something similar to underwear, not quite, though, since skin is not exactly a breathable material... And lastly, I made shoes, or socks, or something in between? I do not want my feet to get cold, of course. I think I might need to create some sort of coat or something within the next few months.

Quite a tricky part of my survival was making a fire, how elementary, you might think. And in theory, it is. But Japan is really Humid, and I am no strong Tarzan. However, I managed. I found some nice rocks near the hot springs in Hakone. Oh, how lucky I was to get transported here. Basically, the iron pyrite in the rocks helped me start the fire. I think that's that. Senku told me something about it.

I miss them so much...

[hollow-lime-green]

Okay, as promised: tell me more about the Gojo clan in FIYM, please? You've mentioned ascetism and ties to Buddhism and enlightenment 👀👀👀 Also the other clans. I love it SO MUCH when authors do something with clan politics, and I'm very excited to learn more about your take on them!

okay, finally I am free of my burdens (big thesis presentation) and I can answer this! but I will break it into two posts, first clan politics, and then later I'll talk about ascetism (or my take on it, anyway).

full disclaimer: we don't learn much about the clans in canon, so all of this is basically headcanon and not necessarily supported by the text. but I'll point out first what I think the text hints at.

so. all jujutsu clans are conservative, meaning they want to uphold existing power structures. however, I think they are conservative in different ways, which is interesting to explore...

The Clans

1. The Zen'in clan, who we get the most context on, is socially conservative and extremely misogynistic. However, within the in-group of men, their hierarchy is merit-based (sorcery).

They have two clan techniques: Ten Shadows and Projection Sorcery, plus some minor techniques we see among the Hei (good catch @detta-pica)

2. The Kamo clan is also known to be more traditionally conservative, and they are kind of obsessed with blood(line). Their hierarchy is family/lineage based. They are the weakest of the Big Three* in our canon time, excluding Kenjaku's power as an individual (they are not working in the clan's best interests).

They have one clan technique: Blood Manipulation, however, through Kenjaku, they have ways to create guaranteed sorcerers (Cursed Wombs).

3. The Gojo clan, which we know almost nothing about, has all of their eggs in one basket, and only has a real egg once every 400 years. Their hierarchy is unknown.

They have one and a half clan techniques: Limitless and Six Eyes.

* When Kenjaku and Gojo are taken out of the equation, I'd say that the Gojo clan is actually the weakest due to their CTs.

Gojo Clan Politics

Let's talk about the Gojo clan first, since they are most relevant to FIYM.

When 6E+L are together, they produce an extremely strong sorcerer. Separately, they are, in technical terms, dogshit. Limitless is extremely difficult to use without the Six Eyes, and the Six Eyes doesn't have any offensive capabilities. So unless you get both, you're kind of shit out of luck. (Although Kenny implies they've been fucked by 6Es without L before, but this is probably alluding to schemes, not all out fights). Since they only get both every 400 years, and the 6E+L user is only alive for a human lifespan, the Gojo clan has to spend a lot of time with no one powerful behind the wheel.

If you DO have 6E+L, then obviously, because that person is essentially a god, you would elevate them to clan head as soon as possible. And one interesting thing here - that would include women. We don't actually know the gender of previous Six Eyes, but it would be pretty unlikely that none of them were women. There were powerful female sorcerers in the Heian era. When you have a lot of people at, say, Grade 1-2, B-A level, you can afford to be misogynistic. When you get one SSS level sorcerer every few centuries, you're gonna take what you can get.

All of this definitely colors their power structure and politics. When 6E+L is off cycle, the Gojo clan has to appoint someone to rule. It might be a holder of 6E or Limitless, but it could also be an elder without a CT, or with a different CT**. We never meet another Limitless user, even though Limitless does not have a one person cap. Although sorcerers are rare, this is still kind of interesting. We know that the Gojo clan is a 'one man army' due to the power difference between Satoru and literally everyone else alive, but we liiiiiterally never see any Gojo clan backup***. (No, Yuta does not count). By the end of the manga, we've seen a good number of people with BM and PS, so the lack of other Gojos is particularly notable

** Now, if you had shitty inherited techniques and a whole lot of powerful enemies, what would you do? The obvious answer is: get more techniques. In one sense, the Gojo clan has the strongest heredity-based hierarchy because they will always default to 6E+L, but in another sense, their heredity rule is the weakest because it consistently produces weaker sorcerers than the other two families (subjective opinion). So to fix that, the Gojo clan has a unique incentive to marry/reproduce outside the clan.

*** Here's where you have to put on your tinfoil hat with me. I think Mei Mei is/was a Gojo. I am not the only one with this theory (1,2), and to be honest, I don't think it's true, BUT I think it would make sense and be cool (so Gege definitely didn't think of it). Why does this make sense:

Good Strategy for Gojos. To protect their clan, the Gojos would be looking to grab strong techniques that give them power and control, and they can't grab techniques from the other clans. Mei Mei's technique is an extremely good way to level the playing field in terms of information and personnel.

Mei Mei is hiding her family name. Why is she doing that? This is also extra points for the "was a Gojo theory", which also, imo, fits with her rogue hypercapitalism.

Vibes. Yeah idk, she and Gojo just have a level of trust that, to me, could support this theory. They have also been co-workers for a long time, so it could be that. Second vibes - her intellect/control-based technique fits the vibe that I get from the Gojo clan.

So, with everything I've just said, the Gojo clan is conservative (wants to maintain order and power among the clans), mystical (cedes ultimate authority to 6E+L and works off of the reincarnation cycle), and open (must build external alliances for survival).

Because of the reincarnation cycle, they have a slightly more complex hierarchy. Without a direct bloodline or merit system, how are they maintaining order over generations? How do they decide who rules? It's probably not based on a person's strength. Combining this with the inspiration that Gege draws from Buddhism and monastic traditions, I believe that the Gojo clan would be led by a council of elders.

The clan is essentially a cult of 6E+L followers who are just waiting around and keeping the house neat and tidy in between reincarnation cycles. The difference between the Gojo clan and real cults is that their prophecy does objectively come true (and of course they are in a world with confirmed magic). So there is some actual trust here. It would be more important for the off-cycle leaders to prioritize stability/protection than dominance (as opposed to the Zen'in clan), so I think the leadership they would pick would be the most traditional, boring old monks they can find.

Inter-Clan Politics

The big three clans will naturally always be vying to be the best/strongest. But every 400 years, one of them gets a bullshit unbeatable trump card, and the other clans just have to roll over or get obliterated. I think that on top of the expected inter-clan tensions, the other clans probably resent the Gojo clan to some extent, especially when the 6E+L user is alive.

The Zen'in clan tries to amass power for themselves by being extremely combat-oriented and hoarding a massive armory of cursed weapons (and either in the past, or also in the present - marrying in and buying powerful techniques - again see the Hei). With what we see of the clan's meritocracy, I think the Gojo and Zen'in clans would butt heads a lot. There's a huge philosophical difference between the ambitious Zen'ins and the controlled, traditional Gojos. I think Naoya in particular would take this very personally, being outclassed by his peer Gojo essentially since birth. We'll definitely get to that in FIYM.

The Kamo clan's strategy is relatively unknown, but by the time we get to canon, they've been dealing with the repercussions of Noritoshi for many many years, AND I believe Kenny would have maintained control behind the scenes even after they hopped out of Noritoshi. They're mostly out of the conversation in terms of power level. If I had to make them interesting, then I think what could set the Kamo clan apart would actually be their jujutsu experimentation. Obviously Kenjaku was behind a lot of the Cursed Womb stuff, but given how many 'sub-techniques' we see with BM, it somewhat implies that the Kamo clan has more of a history of jujutsu scholarship than the Zen'in clan. That may be their flavor of trying to get ahead/build power.

Other Clans

Apart from the Big Three, we have other minor clans like the Inumaki clan, and we know that there were more major clans that died out. The political structure that we see in the canon time period probably isn't representative of how they did things in the past, especially in the Heian era where we might have seen a lot more clan vs clan fighting and power mobility instead of the firmly established Big Three.

Aside: We also know that in the Heian era, sorcery was more common. This would mean there are more sorcerers, including non-clan sorcerers (higher chance of jujutsu manifesting = higher number of random/new manifestations). So power might not have been as concentrated in the clans. The chance of manifesting in bloodline/non-bloodline could be unchanged, but with the total % of sorcerers decreasing, it's probably more difficult to find non-clan sorcerers (this is a huge part of FIYM Suguru's backstory and may be part of his future motivations 👀). Anyway, clans in this era would have to deal with rogue sorcerers more, either by making deals to absorb them into the clan, or probably by murdering them. This is probably how Zen'in got two techniques originally (and has multiple minor techniques now).

Anyway, so we have both rogue sorcerers and minor clans. I think Zen'in is too egotistical to make alliances (but has absorbed rogues/CTs over time), Kamo is too hung up on bloodline, and Gojo needs to make alliances.

Inumaki Clan - While I was reading up on this, I was reminded that the Inumaki clan is in a pretty strange position, being considered jujutsu outlaws and intentionally trying to stamp out their own bloodline. So Toge is in a weird spot, but his acceptance to jujutsu tech and all that follows is probably a side effect of Gojo being in charge. We know Gojo Satoru is nontraditional and progressive (in terms of jujutsu but also he's gay as hell). When he is the clan head, the Gojo will act according to his more progressive ideas. However, in some ways, Satoru will still split from their ideology - but I think this is mostly on the mystical side. More on that when I talk about Buddhism/ascetism.

One Last Thing - Geto Suguru

It is well known that in FIYM, the clans hate Geto Suguru. Why? The Zen'in clan hates that he is powerful and not aligned with them. The Kamo clan hates that he is powerful and not clanborn. The Gojo clan hates him because he is powerful and his powers are evil-coded (of the three, Gojo CTs are the most divine/enlightenment-coded, and the Gojos are the most mystical.)

You notice that I mentioned power in all three reasons. I think this is important. While obviously in a different time/power dynamic, we don't see vitriol towards Toge, for example, who has a blasphemous technique. But the clans immediately want Yuta and Yuji dead in a ditch. (And, if they ever get the opportunity (thanks Kenjaku), they are absolutely looking to depose Satoru).

Not only do the clans hate Suguru, they are very actively afraid of him.

The order in which the clans hate him is Kamo (bloodline essentialism) > Zenin (slight respect to his power) >> Gojo (probably historically more open to outsiders, not threatened b/c 6E+L).

Under Satoru's leadership, the Gojo clan obviously will not take direct action against Suguru, but they won't defend him either. Which is part of why Suguru is in his current position in fellas chapter 1. (Wait what? What position, what-)

I can't wait to go more into this in FIYM, because in Japan, things have certainly happened during Satoru's little winter holiday. And while some of it is gay angst, there is a looooooot of clan politics happening behind the scenes due to the fact that Satoru decided to remove himself from the equation.

@tea-maker This definitely did not answer your original ask, but it's a side topic I've wanted to talk about so I hope you found it interesting regardless. When I get the chance, I'll talk about the Buddhism/ascetism takes I have in the context of FIYM's version of the Gojo clan. :)

[devinescribe]

Hands Off

Cruel Summer Ch. 3

Steven Meeks x Reader

Previous Ch. | Next Ch.

You clung to your big brother's side like you were scared he'd disappear in front of your face. He was the only familiar thing you had at this school.

You knocked softly on the door, which almost immediately opened, the rest of the boys in there already, looking like they had been waiting for you to get there.

"Hello hello, get in!"

Was all that was shouted before your shoulder was grabbed and you were pulled in by your (very expensive mind you) sweater.

"Hey, hands off my sister!"

You squeak as you're dragged in and sat next to Meeks on his bed.

Sitting nervously, you twiddle your fingers and fidget with your sweater that you had thrown on over your silk, pale green night gown.

Steven was next to you, fidgeting as well, but reading his textbook and doing work. You bring your books out and begin to do the same, starting with the easiest, and working up.

English, history, Latin ... now what was left... was science and math.

You get through your science work with relative ease... and now you start your math homework.

The boys had been chatting the whole session, background music to your writing. You stared at the paper and your notes, and the equations. You started the homework.... And about two hours later you started to cry.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what's wrong what did you do to her Meeks?!" Neil shouted, going over to you, tripping over Todd.

You sniffle and look up watery eyed, with a trembling bottom lip up at your big brother.

"I-I don't un-understand... I-i keep trying it a-and it's not right..." you sniffle as tears roll down your cheeks.

There was paper all around you, your eraser spent. Neil noticed they were all of the same problem. The first one.

Neil attempted to soothe you, rubbing your shoulder as he whispered,"Hey hey hey, calm down... take a break it isn't do till the day after tomorrow-"

"B-but then I'll have more work and more stuff and it will add up and I'm so tired-"

Neil bit his lip, wondering what to do.

"Here... why don't you take a nap and we'll wake you up to go to the room, yeah?" Todd suggested quietly.

You nodded, drying your tears and lay your head down on the soft pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.

Meeks watched as you lay down in his bed, using his pillow. You were so pretty, even when you were drooling in your sleep. Your silk nightgown was a pretty sage green with matching lace work on the bottom. Your sweater was brown, possibly put over your gown for more modesty.

He felt bad you didn't understand the homework. You were obviously very intelligent, so the fact you felt so upset about one worksheet made him upset.

But at least you looked peaceful, snuggling into his pillow.

——

It was about an hour and a half later when Neil and Todd decided it was time to head out. You were deep in sleep when Neil gently shook you awake.

You stared up groggily up at your brother and whined, "nooooo...."

The boys laughed, and Neil hated making you upset. He knew how much trouble you had sleeping and to wake you up and making you walk to your dorm would make you wake up fully.

"...s-she can stay here...?" Meeks suggested quietly, knowing Neil would probably forbid you from ever staying in one of their rooms without supervision.

To his surprise, Neil took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay. Okay, yeah."

"Wait for real?" Asked Charlie incredulously.

"Yeah? I wouldn't be friends with you all if I didn't trust you... or if I wouldn't trust you with my little sister," he said sincerely.

And it was true. None of them would think of harming you or another woman for that matter.

Meeks nodded softly.

"But if I hear anything at all from her.... You're dead."

——

Meeks looked at you sleeping on his bed after everyone left. Well, Charlie and Pitts decided to have a sleepover just so it wouldn't be weird.

"Alright, let's go Meeks, floor time," Charlie said, patting the floor where they had made up a cot.

Meeks got up from the bed about to get down when he felt your hand graze his arm.

"...Steven.... Stay...warm... y' smell good...." You mumbled, half asleep, clutching to his pajama.

He blushed bright red, matching his hair. He didn't know what to do! ...technically he wasn't going to do anything to you.... He could sleep besides you couldn't he? He would just... put pillows between you both.

"H-hey n-no... Neil would kill me if he found out..."

Charlie and Pitts giggled to themselves, Charlie holding onto Pitts repeating your words.

Meeks glared at them, but turned to face you again, his glare softening.

You still clutched onto his sleeve, and tugged on it softly.

"Stay..."

How could he say no to that?

Very carefully, he slid in next to you, but not before grabbing and extra pillow, putting it between you both.

He heard you protest sleepily, but figured this was for the best. Tuning out the teasing from the two other boys in the room, he was able to fall asleep.

——

"Come on... dance with me please?" Your voice was like a melody, carried out through the room.

How could he say no to you?

Standing up, he took your hand and began to lead you softly through the dance floor. Your head lay softly on his chest, your arms around his neck, swaying.

"I wish we could stay like this forever Steven..." he heard you, but it was almost on the distance, like a whisper of wind brushed by.

"We can-"

"No... it's time to wake up."

"Huh?"

"Wake up. Wake up. Wa-"

"-ke up! Wake up! Steven. Steven Meeks, Meeks, Meeksie, buddy, let's goooo before Neil sees this a dissects you like a frog!" Charlie yells, beating him with a pillow.

The boy, who was already blind enough without his glasses, was even more blind with the sun light coming in and the pillow occasionally bashing his eyes.

When he grabs the pillow, groaning, saying he awake now, he takes a minute to breathe. Why would Neil be mad at him?

He feels warmer than usual, and looks down. The pillow he had put between you both for modesty and out of respect for you, was thrown across the room, and you were hugging him, head against his chest.

You wake up to the yelling with a whine... and then you realize.

You back up quickly about to apologize when you  fall off the bead and bang your head on the floor. Meeks looks over in shock and horror, and scrambles to help you, but falls on top of you instead.

Of course, that's when the door decides to open to the rest of the boys, to Neil, standing there.

"Hands off my sister!"

Oh boy.

——

After everyone had settled down, you find yourself holding an ice pack to your head. Your eyes shut because of the massive headache you had.

Meeks couldn't stop looking at you. Even after Neil gave him the scariest talking to he'd ever had in his life, he couldn't stop. His heart was already set in motion.

It was safe to say neither of you would be spending alone time for a while. Not if Neil had anything to say about it.

Neil wasn’t weird with you, he was just protective. He didn’t want you to get hurt, much less when your parents were counting on him as your big brother to keep you safe. He glared at Meeks, as if he’d have to fill out incident paper work for this once he got home.

——

It had been a few weeks since the incident.

The boys started back up the Dead Poets Society, and you wanted to tag along.

"Cmon! I can't join any of the other clubs and stuff they won't even let me in the history club, please please please?" You begged your brother, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could.

He sighed and shook his head, the rest of the guys making the same face.

"No... really like, this is... guys only okay?" Neil said.

A murmur of agreement rose with the boys and you pouted, turning away.

"I know more about poetry and care more about poetry than any of you. But fine," you huff, marching to your room, and slamming the door.

The boys flinched.

"Oof, spoiled little girl huh?" Charlie teased, a glare from Neil sent his way.

——

You would not speak to anyone except teachers and faculty. You were ignoring them.

Steven felt bad, but he couldn't exactly go against the rules set by everyone else in the club. It sucked that you couldn't be in any clubs. It wasn't your fault the school made an exception and let you in.

Mr. Keatings brought the class outside, making them read poems as they kicked a ball. You sat on the sidelines.

'Girls can't play sports'

That's what one of the boys in class said.

And for some god forsaken reason, you listened and sat by Mr. Keatings, who just assumed you weren't up for it. He would have forced you if it wasn't for the fact he knew of your love for poetry. You say reading your copy of Blades of Grass and ignored the noise. Music started to play from the record player and you hear Meeks shouting his lines.

His voice cracked slightly, and you blushed, watching him with adoration.

As much as you told yourself that you couldn't, that you came here for your studies, you couldn't help it.

You were falling for Steven Meeks.

——

Back in the classroom, Mr. Keatings gave you all an assignment. To write your own poem, then read it to the class.

The boys groaned.

You looked delighted, beginning to ask questions.

"How many lines and stanzas?"

"As many as you wish."

"Must it be new?"

"Yes, it must."

"Any style of poetry?"

"Any style."

"Any subject matter?"

"Y/N, dear, you have complete creative freedom for this project. Anything your heart desires. Write of it. If it be love for a boy whose hair looks like flame, or about your family, your hair, your struggles. Anything you wish to write about you may."

You blushed at his word of 'a boy whose hair looks like flame.' How did he know?

——

When the day was over you went up to the dorms and hesitated. You marched yourself across the hall, steeling your nerves and you knocked on the door.

"Coming!"

Steven's voice came from the other side. You heard him scramble and fall, before the door opened.

"O-oh hey hey heyyy.... Y/N... um how-how can I help you?" He stammered, running a hand through his hair.

"Your glasses are crooked. And would you like to work on our project for Keatings class together? I need to do homework with someone else in the room or else I won't hold myself accountable," you stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He fixed his glasses and in a high pitched voice said, "yeah yeah yeah sure yep that-that's totally fine!"

——

"So is... is Neil gonna... join us or...?" Steven asked, stammering.

You shook your head. You decided you would not be needing a chaperone to do schoolwork.

Steven stiffened up at that as you kept writing your homework out.

You sat against the wall on his bed, closest to the door, while Meeks sat next to you, closest to the big bay window.

He was too distracted to concentrate on his own work thinking about what any of the boys would think if they saw this. Especially Neil! What if Neil thought he was taking advantage of you or influenced you to do this?!

That was the furthest thing from the truth, you had looked at him with those big e/c eyes, and he just couldn't say no.

It was a pattern now.

"What will you be writing your poem about?"

Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He stared for a moment before regaining his composure and answering with a simple, "I dunno..."

You sighed softly, "All I write are love poems even though I've never been in love. What I imagine love to be like..."

He stares with soft brown eyes, watching you dig out a journal. It's leather bound, with pages sort of falling out.

You were sitting besides him, so you just show him the messy writing in each page.

"Wow... these are... wow," Steven whispers. "Read on f'me?"

You blink, and look up.

"You actually wanna hear it..?" You mumble.

He nodded, excited to hear you read your own works.

"A friend once told me I have love-sick puppy dog eyes.

I asked her what that even meant

She told me that it meant I had eyes that made almost anyone fall in love because I looked so... helpless?

I felt confused...

But the comment made me think of how I love and the thing is I love like a dog. I really do. I love like you are the center of my universe, I follow you around trying to please you, doing my best to hear you say I'm good. Waiting quietly at your feet looking up with my eyes begging for even just a scrap of your attention.

I think of how I love like a dog, and just how ditzy I am for it."

You recited the poem from memory, looking at Meeks as you did. He swallowed harshly. You two had moved closer together somehow.

"W-well she's right... y-you...you do," he mumbled, his hands fidgeting.

You blushed, and looked away.

"N-no... don't look away I-i... I didn't mean it in a bad way..." he said. “Y-your eyes… c-could get anyone to do what you say…”

You looked back up, and noticed how close you two were.

"I-I think... you're brilliant... and so very good a-at the things you do," he whispered.

You were so close, you could feel the warmth of his hand ghosting over your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. So close, your noses were almost touching. So close his lips-

The door to the room burst open as Pitts waltzed in with Charlie and Todd.

You both jumped away from each other, fixing up your appearance, making it look like a normal study situation.

"Oh a little study session, wicked! Meeks I need help with Latin!"

You glanced over at Meeks with a shy smile, before the boys joined you.

[paperstorm]

What do you think Jonah should call them then 👀👀 are you team names

Oh boy we love the smell of discourse first thing in the morning. Okay here is the entirety of my thoughts on the situation, which I'm sure people have been awaiting with baited breath (🙄 half the time I'm not even interested in my thoughts)

People can and should headcanon whatever they want and there is truly no need to get upset if someone headcanons something different than you none of this is that serious

Headcanons do not equal canon. You can headcanon that Tommy never had cancer if you want to but it isn’t fair to demand other people acquiesce to your way of thinking, right? I think the show was very clear about telling us that Jonah is not going to call them Dad. That was the entire point of Papa-Bro – the writers went out of their way to make it clear that 5 months in they still haven’t figured it out but they’re trying a moniker that a) is clearly a jokey one that isn’t going to stick and b) very intentionally does not include the word Dad. I am actually not personally opposed to the idea of Jonah calling them something other than their legal first names, I get why that feels a bit formal, but the show purposely made it clear that it's not gonna be Dad. Again, headcanon whatever you want. I totally understand why it can be frustrating when non-canon things are sort of insisted upon as if we all must adopt the same headcanons but ultimately this is all fictional and for every fic that writes this in a way you don't like there will be others more to your taste

I feel like TK would want to do everything he could to keep Enzo and Gwyn alive and a part of Jonah. This is the man who in 3x08 sat there crying and heartbroken about the idea that Jonah would never get to know his mom, I just can’t wrap my head around that same person then wanting to take the place of Jonah’s biological parents when he loves his mom and stepfather and values their continued place in Jonah’s life. I know that Jonah hypothetically calling TK ‘Dad’ doesn’t automatically equate to TK completely erasing his biological parents, which I hope we can all agree he would never do, but it feels, to me personally!, adjacent enough that I just don’t really vibe with it. But there’s no one single right way to be a family. My thoughts on this aren’t objectively correct, they’re just my thoughts. People can and do think my thoughts are stupid, which is fine.

As I said I am not opposed to Jonah calling them something but I honestly don’t know what! I don’t hate him sticking with their names, since that’s what he already calls them. I also don’t hate him calling them something else, some kind of nickname that feels less formal. But as to what that should be, I have no thoughts 😭 I am so glad it wasn’t my job to come up with those nicknames because I can’t think of anything better than Papa-Bro. I think ultimately I default to their names just literally because I can't come up with anything better.

[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.

[shieldstable]

For the fic writer ask game... 9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about! 💥

Ah Hi anon! Thank for coming in my inbox <3

I'm such a nutorious WIP-hopper but I'll talk about the fic I'll probably finish first, as it's really starting to take shape now. (thanks to @steelchairinhand brainstorming with me, you're a gem!) It's Omegaverse, which I love and respect but I never thought I would personally write if I am going to be honest. But it feautures Secret-Omega Roman Reigns, Nothing else is different about him. He's the same size as he is, still tribal chief, still the longest running champion. Roman Reigns is the definition of an Alpha Male already, even outside of an Omegaverse setting. I really wanted to explore that, put question marks around that. Seth (and Mox, but Mox left) are the only ones who know about it because they found out during the Shield days and Seth and Roman were together back then.

I'm setting the story around the events of WM41, and Seth's crashing out so much about CM Punk being in the main-event, he needs a plan and he needs one quick. So, either Roman fixes it, or Seth's plan is to out Roman and hope the chaos that follows is enough to cancel the whole thing. There's new levels of angst being reached as we speak. It's a character study of Roman and the way he carries himself as an Alpha-male. It's Seth and Roman being drawn to each other and both resenting themselves and each other for it. It's non-linear and puts a new spin on the The Shield fallout.

Lastely, it's about Roman having to put his trust in Seth, even though Seth has betrayed him for his own betterment at every twist and turn since 2014. Because Roman can do nothing else, either Seth is going to out him, or Seth is not.

Seth, is obsessed with Punk. He hates Punk, but he's said on multiple occasions that he loves Roman. It feels very fitting that Seth would not do this to take down Roman, but to take down Punk.

And not to get a Greek or Shakespearan about WWE A/B/O but it's got such a thouch of tragedy to it. If Roman wasn't Roman, he wouldn't have to worry. I've already shares a snippet here but here's another bit for funsies:

“You’ve messed up big time, Roman, and like I already told you — I have been cleaning up your messes for the past twelve years. I’m sick of that shit.”

Roman is definitely going to be sick, nausea has settled deep in his stomach. He flares his nostrils. Hopefully, Seth will take it as a sign of aggression instead of a sign that Roman has a hard time breathing right now.

Seth’s trying to keep his voice down, but he’s practically yelling. “I’ll help you think of something better right now, or I’ll take both you and Punk out of the equation myself ” 

He feels feverish, there’s pins and needles in his teeth. The top-layer of his skin feels voltaic — like he is about to melt into a puddle, but if he touches anyone, anything, there would be enough static energy to fully electrocute them both. Roman needs to touch Seth, right now. His hands feel clammy when he flexes his fingers. 

Roman can hear his blood pumping in his ears, it’s making it hard for him to think straight. “Look, we — I — we, eh. Well, we can orchestrate an accident?” 

“An accident?” Seth raises an eyebrow, “what, break his leg or something?”

Roman nods. He doesn’t know what has come over him all of a sudden, but he has to swallow bile, and it’s taking a conscious effort to remain an active participant in this overly productive conversation Seth had insisted on. 

“An accident? Roman, answer me, are you stupid? — Wait, no, don’t answer that I already know.” 

Roman’s breaking out in a sweat, and he’s pretty sure Seth can smell his nerves on him. Because Seth and only Seth knows what he’s looking for with Roman. He has to leave, he can just leave, the door is right there behind him — but he wants to step closer into Seth’s space. He does. Roman shuffles forward and raises his chin, baiting Seth into a fight. 

“Fuck me man, sure, let’s think this through. Punk breaks a leg a week before WrestleMania. Right after a certain someone has publicly stated that he will do anything in his power to prevent CM Punk from main-eventing. Whose door do you think they’ll come knocking at first?” 

And it’s that Rollin’s trademarked nasal donkey-honk self-righteousness that is clawing its way into Roman’s skull, the sound waves scrambling his brain, which currently lolls around like runny yolks in Roman’s head. He has a headache, he needs Seth Rollins to shut his fucking mouth.

Don’t throw up, remain standing, don’t throw up, remain standing, don’t throw up.

“I always knew you weren’t the brightest, but is this really the best you’ve—” 

Seth pauses, suddenly wide-eyed and his expression shifts away from anger, brows unfurrowed, raised in concern. He looks around, sniffs the air with purpose, and then looks past Roman at the door. Roman can see his chest rise and fall when Seth inhales deeply. 

“Ro—” Seth’s no longer yelling, his voice is soft and hushed when he reaches out a trembling hand to touch Roman’s forehead. To Roman’s own surprise, he lets Seth touch him — he wants Seth to touch him. 

“Roman, when’s the last time you took a heat-break from the suppressants?” 

[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.