#but remember! it's just a theory

[art-from-within]

Is it just me or are ppl sleeping on the potential implications of this last line from sir goatsback (cuz he always got my back)?

Like, here is a commander of the pureblood knights who is undeniably being used by From as a narrative tool to speak for Luminary Mohg. Sir Ansbach is someone who we know for sure followed Mohg before Miquella's enchantment, as a loyal knight. And what do loyal knights do? Fight for/defend their lord's interests. And to think that a Knight of Mohg, his primary commander no less, espousing such views...

Tldr I think the line may have inadvertently been a way to hint at Mohg's original goal i.e. become a lord of men not gods (mirroring a broken marika/tarnished ending) Formless mother is conveniently, formless. Perhaps he thought miquella was a lil smol baby that he could prop up as a "this dynasty is totally valid" certificate and easily ground away, so he may do the real politicking...

[prlssprfctn]

Jason Todd, who tries to do his Red Hood reveal in front of the whole family, all at once, but they are so sleep-deprived that instead of accepting an obvious answer, they come up with the most insane theories.

Jason, spreading his arms wide: The answer is already here, and you know it. Come on, the world's great detective — look at me, and tell, why would the random criminal lord avenge for your son? Hm?

Dick, snapping his fingers: You are his childhood friend! Right?!

Jason: What—

Dick: You knew everything about us. You knew Jason better than we did. It is obvious. You are a kid that he must befriended during his days on the streets. You are avenging for him because we failed him!

Tim, shaking his head: Dick, come on—

Jason: Yeah, exactly, just—

Tim, with the insane glint in his eyes: They were clearly lovers, not friends.

Jason: ...What.

Tim: It is obvious. Just look at him at his desperation. That's more than friendship.

Jason: Come on, Bruce, you can't possibly allow them to be this stupid.

Bruce, sipping on his coffee: No, I won't.

Bruce, turning to Dick and Tim: It is Willis Todd.

Dick, Tim, and Jason in the unison: What—

(Hours later, Jason's safe house)

Jason: ...And then he goes! (clears up his throat to imitate Bruce's voice) "Willis Todd's grave was always empty, but I hadn't paid attention to this fact!" What an insane thing to fucking admit, by the way!

Talia, on the Facetime, doing her nails: Perhaps it is a family trait - to leave the coffins empty... Anyway, what happened after?

Jason: They come up with another theory. Now, they think that Red Hood is "Jason's" reincarnation. Souls switched and stuff. Dunno. They planned to call Constantine, but I left.

Talia: I feel like a nap would resolve this issue.

Jason: Yeah, definitely. But that's not my problem.

Talia: Naturally. But you look happy.

Jason, smirking: I got to annoy the hell of this family without even getting revealed and dealing with the aftermath. Of course, I am happy. Also, Alfred clocked me, but just packed me a lemon pie and invited for a tea ceremony later this week.

[marisashinx]

Silver often forgets what happened in dreams when he wakes up...

[willyhoos]

you, and what little remains of your brother.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I love how you drew foxy, he so scruckly looking <3

Here’s some more Foxys I’ve drawn!!

[arrimorr]

Sometimes I genuinely forget what a big mystery "the author of the journals" tm was to the gravity falls fandom. If I had a chance to tell my 9 y.o self that I know who the guy is, kin him, drew a bunch of fanart with him and also ship him with the goddamn bill cipher she would have had an aneurysm

[the-great-horse-cocktail]

Alternate timeline where Stanley doesn’t accidentally ruin Ford’s project but he still doesn’t get into Geek Life University bc some kid showed up with a baking soda volcano

[snowverit]

Do y'all think wiress actually just did nothing for her entire game?? They say she sat in the blindspot of opponent's and cameras the entire game- I read that like she probably also was trying to break the arena but the capital couldn't show it or something

[dotted-clouds]

Replaced.

[tvuniverse]

9-1-1 -> 6x10-11 // 8x15 (potential) coma dream

[funtergeist]

[vvienne]

knowing what we now do about pal's ideas about the permeability of souls casts this interaction in a fun new light

[communistkenobi]

a very common mistake people make in political/social discourse is applying individualist thinking to some social phenomenon or theory. one of the most common examples is someone responding to the theory of white privilege with “but there are poor white people” or male privilege with “I’m a man but I have no power” etc. and in order to refute that properly you have to essentially get into a philosophy of science debate, to explain that the benefit of a given social theory is its ability to be generalised above the level of the individual, that what is being described is a social process, that human beings occupy various positions within a social space (a family, a neighbourhood, a workplace, a state) that are not individual. To be able to give an account of some social force you necessarily cannot be just talking about the particularities of a single person - if you were, all you would be expressing is an individual opinion about a single person. If you want to rise above the level of ‘mere opinion’ you need to actually provide an account that is general enough to apply to multiple people of varying social situations but systematic enough to be able to differentiate between who you are and are not speaking about. Of course data are lost in this endeavour - probably best summed up by the aphorism “all models are wrong but some are useful” - but the success of a given social theory is its ability to sustain its explanatory power despite these data losses. Like the whole game of generalisation is building a theory to figure out what data points to discard and which to retain. It is no more contradictory to say white privilege is real even though there are poor white people than to say the police are a white supremacist institution even though there are non-white police officers. In fact these seeming contradictions are accounted for in these same social theories - white supremacy has had centuries of policy development at this point, it is a fairly well-tested set of logics that have adapted to a variety of conflicts, problems, and political/economic/social developments (Sylvia Wynter talks about this in the context of the post-slavery US for example). White supremacy is thus resilient to these apparent contradictions (and these contradictions generate further social developments, such as the shifting meanings and locations of whiteness), which is why zooming into the level of the individual is often not helpful in explaining its effects on a social level.

Weber says that I need not know Caesar to understand Caesar - that to talk about Caesar as a historical figure and as a particular location in ancient Roman society is fundamentally different than a description of him as an individual. And nobody actually talks about Caesar as an individual anyway! Even psychological or biographical profiles of him are premised on the fact that Caesar is worthy of this profile as opposed to any other person living in the Roman Republic. The reason we all know his name is that his place in history is extended beyond the individual. A Roman general and leader is fundamentally not an individual, not a private person. The very fact that I can say “Roman General” but not say any person’s name and have people understand what I’m saying is evidence of this. By definition ‘Caesar’ the historical figure is not an individual in any meaningful sense, he has power that is only available through social institutions and formations, and that is why he is known even today. Even the most liberal Great Man Theories of history locate an engine of history within the general position of Great Man (this is a fundamental contradiction within this type of thinking, the generalised Individual). If there can be more than one Great Man in history then he is not an individual, he is occupying a generalisable position in human history that can be calculated, bounded, and studied.

So it’s very frustrating to deal with! It’s an attempt to refute an explanation of a social phenomenon with individual anecdotes, much of which is already accounted for in said explanation. It makes many, many, many discussions about the social and political world endlessly repetitive and uninteresting, because you are always stuck at litigating the most basic, atomic point of reference. And of course that is the point for many people, they aren’t interested in any of this because they are racist and they are misogynistic and so on. It is an extremely effective derailing tactic, but part of the reason why it’s so effective is because individualism is such a pervasive mode of thinking. All of the groundwork is already laid out for people who say white privilege isn’t real because the social and epistemic infrastructure necessary to get other people to buy that argument has already been built for them to make that type of claim. Which is why the people who smirk at the camera when they say shit like this are so pathetic because they behave like they thought of that all by themselves, unaware or (more probably) deliberately ignoring the fact that they live in a society specifically built to facilitate, automate, and celebrate the garbage coming out of their mouth

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt#148 Part 2

Danny feels himself grow bright red and the two stare into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. 

“I- Uh… I’m Danny” He finally managed to mutter. 

“Damian Wayne, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Danny's blush grew even brighter as the next moment Damian kissed his hand, Danny couldn’t help but feel flustered. 

After a moment  Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and stuttered out, “It’s nice, to meet you too” He could tell how happy Damian was to meet him and he felt a little bad for feeling nervous in the first place. Danny thought Damian was cute and he decided then that he wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better. First they had to get through the rest of the gala, and soon as he thought about the gala something clicked. 

He realized Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne who at the moment was talking to his own parents. He couldn’t help but stare as he let the information sink in. 

“Ah yes it looks like Father is talking to some of the scientists that were invited.” Ancients, Danny knew his parents couldn’t help being themselves and unfortunately that meant things like accidentally spilling fudge right onto Mr. Wayne's suite. They watched as Mr. Wayne told his parents it wasn’t a problem and then walked out of the room. 

Danny couldn’t help but sigh, “Sorry about them, my parents are a little eccentric. Don’t even get me started on their obsession with ghosts, my dad will not shut up sometimes.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously again as he realized he was rambling a little bit. 

“Don’t worry it looks like Father handled the situation well, although I am curious what kind of inventions two scientists obsessed with ghosts create. That’s what this gala is about, we want to support scientists in untapped fields of study.” Danny listened as his soulmate explained things to him. 

Danny looked over to see Vlad talking to a thin scientist in the corner of the room. He was definitely up to something, a ball like this had Vlad scheming something with a mad scientist written all over it. 

He was brought out from his thoughts as a loud crash could be heard as the wall across the room burst open and none other than the Joker walked through.

Danny tried to make his way to the other side of the gala, strangely Damian had disappeared but Danny didn’t have the time to look for him.  

However when he got to the door staying low to the ground the door burst through and more of Joker's goons looked straight at him and he found himself tied up right in front of the Joker. 

“What do we have here? A new Wayne?” Joker said as he cupped Danny's face in his hand. Danny couldn’t do anything about the situation and he was getting a little scared considering he didn’t have a proper way to go ghost or protect his soulmate at the moment. 

The Joker circled around the tied up hostages laughing, “Of course now the fun begins”

The Joker continued to circle around the hostages thinking for a moment before he grabbed Danny.

He held Danny by the back of the shirt like a small kitten. His obsession was making him wonder if his soulmate was safe living in Gotham. Joker chuckled as he continued to hold Danny.

“This kid will be an example for the rest of you, I don’t want any outbursts like that again, especially when Batman gets here. Do you think Batman will like what I’ve done with the place?” He asked as he gestured around the ruined room. All of the tables and chairs had either been broken or knocked over and all of the food from the dessert and appetizer tables. It was quite the mess. Before Joker could do much else with the teen he had dangling in his grasp something flew out and smacked Joker right in the back of the head causing him to drop Danny.

Danny took that opportunity to get away, his hands may have been tied but his feet were sure free. He stumbled away as Batman dropped down and a fight between him and the Joker commenced. 

Danny ran towards the door and as he got there Robin and Nightwing were there ushering some of the other hostages out of the room. 

“Right this way citizens!” Nightwing said brightly at them but he seemed to brighten up a bit more when he saw Danny weirdly. 

“Have either of you seen Damian Wayne?” Danny asked, he at least wanted to get his number, especially when he was headed back to Amity soon.

They seemed to share a look before looking back at him, “Damian left, he’s headed safely back to Wayne manor.” Robin said but he held out a piece of paper. On it was Damians signature and his phone number. Danny sighed a little annoyed he had left but he guessed it was common to head back home after a rogue attack in Gotham. 

“Danny!!” the booming voice of Jack Fenton was suddenly heard and Danny felt himself getting pulled into a very familiar bear hug. 

“Did you have fun at the gala? Your father and I saw you talking to Mr. Wayne's son,” His mother said after his feet were back on the ground. 

“Yeah, actually can we talk about that after we’re back in our room?” He wanted to tell his parents he found his soulmate but saying that outloud when Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne sounded like a bad idea. 

They headed back to the hotel room and all Danny could think about was how lucky he was to have met his soulmate tonight, even if he was nervous about everything.

Master Post:

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[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I should work on the next Cat Stan Short! (makes this instead)

Anyway.

Bill doesn't know how long he's in the theraprism. Seconds blend into minutes into hours into days into weeks into years into centuries into millennia on and on until time becomes a blur and feelings fade away with memories. Voices he once knew are hazier then the faces they belonged to, and those faces are smudges with sounds instead of names.

Who was that human he was so obsessed with again? There was one, but perhaps the other....?

Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore.

Not the smudges or sounds or voices. Not time or who he was or where he wanted to go.

It took millennia upon millennia to the edge of time and back, but he's ready.

He's going to be reborn.

A different time.

A different place.

As someone new.

Free from everything he was or did.

A fresh start.

With a final bow, Bill Cipher closes his eye one last time-

-And Stanford Filbrick Pines opens his.

The person Stanford used to be is a distant thought in the back of his mind. Like a dream he can't quite remember. He doesn't pay it too much attention, because he's got much more important things to worry about.

Like his freakish hands, the scorn of his peers, the coldness of the hospital, and the fact he can't tear all of it to pieces and burn it to the ground. Whoever he used to be, as distant and smudged as they were, used to wield powers beyond his wildest dreams.

Leaving him with nothing but the desire to see the playground burn to the ground, and nothing to show for it but his brother poking him in the forehead and laughing at his pouty expression.

His brother.

Thats the one part in his new life he knows he lucked out on. As terrifying and haunting as the dreams of who he was are, there's one solid fact that stands out and burns across his heart whenever he tries to sneak a peek. That person, as dead and dust as they are, was alone. They didn't have anyone truly on their side, and they kept burning and burning and tearing things apart to fill that empty void inside of them.

Stanford doesnt need to do that, because he has Stanley. Stanley, his twin brother, who stuck with him through thick and thin, stood up for him when the shame of his hands became to much (Even now, even here, he was always a freak), was his loyal partner in crime and the person he could count on to soothe the raging flames that hungered and cried for him to launch himself at Crampelter and tear his face off.

Stanley doesn't have a person who he was, not like Stanford. (he'd asked once, long ago, about the memories that whispered in his mind. Stanley had just given him an odd look, then told him to get more sleep). He was normal, with regular hands, regular brains, and an understanding of people Stanford knows he used to have (or thought he had) but now lacks.

He lacks a lot of things in his new life, but that's fine. This is a fresh start.

And Stanley was the worlds gift to him. Finally, someone who'd never leave his side. His own person, who's loyalty would never waver, who'd never scheme against him, who is his in every sense of the word.

(That piece of who he was screams and cackles and cries at this. It is the best outcome. It is the worst outcome. It is exactly as it should be).

But there is one thing that bothers him about his brother. One piece that tickles the back of his mind whenever they run and play and cause chaos across this tiny pathetic town they called home.

Stanley did not have memories of who he was, but the person he was right now was.. oddly familiar. Whenever they roam the beach and find something washed ashore in the distance, Stanley's first words are always "I wonder if its a dead body!" Whenever they find rats, twisted and dead along the pier, either from poison or some other means, he always shouts "this is the greatest thing i've ever seen!" When the bullies get too much, and Stanford shoves his hands somewhere no one can see them, Stanley throws his arm around Stanfords shoulders and always says "Someday we'll show them, we'll leave this town in the dust and they'll all be sorry."

Which wouldn't be strange, but as they grow and grow and get older and Stanford learns how to hear the whispers of Before, he finds that Stanley's words echo and harmonize with the voice of Who He Was more and more, until they almost seem to speak together more than apart. Whoever Stanford used to be, Stanley is them in miniature. Stanley's smaller, of course, and less grand and powerful, but there's a thread there that Stanford can't ignore. Something inside him screams that there's a connection, and he just doesnt know how to find it.

It pokes at his thoughts more and more as they get older, go to high school, and Stanley keeps being the echo chamber and shadow of Stanfords previous self. Stanford has grown far beyond that part of him, is different in ways they couldn't hope to achieve, has found new passions in showing off with his mind instead of his might. None of these small minded humans have even a fraction of the knowledge he was born with or devoured growing up. None of them understand the music of the universe or how to twist physics. Stanfords powers are gone, but his mind is still here, and he uses it to excel more and more, dragging Stanley with him as he reaches higher and higher.

Stanley is his brother after all, his eternal companion. If Stanfords going towards the top, then Stanley will too. Even if every day Stanford gets more and more frustrated with his inability to apply himself. He knows his brother can excel if he wants to (maybe not as well as Stanford, but better than he currently is) and doesnt understand why he doesnt.

But its fine. Stanford's going places, and Stanley will follow.

And then its their final year, once high school is done he'll go to college, get a degree, then become world famous. Stanley will be by his side, cheering him on as the embers of what he was finally fade in the light of his soon to be fame.

And then its the science fair.

Then West Coast Tech.

Then the presentation.

And Stanford's fury reignites those embers into an inferno, and he is so full of rage the gaping void that he'd spent seventeen years filling bursts open.

Betrayal.

From the one who was his.

Its terrible in its familiarity.

He watches from the window as the person who was supposed to be his partner, who was supposed to be by his side and help put the terrible specter that screeched in the back of his mind to rest, gets tossed out. Tries to figure out what his purpose was, if all he was going to do was push Stanford to be his best self, then pull the rug out from beneath him and leave him floundering.

Why even have a twin, if all he was going to do was make Stanford feel worse than before. How could he, who in another life reigned terror the likes his current one couldn't comprehend, get saddled with some tiny speck of a human who selfishly-

and then he sees it.

As Pa slams the door, and Stanley tightens his fists, there is a spark.

Blue flames, dancing across his fingers as his brother looks up at Stanford in the window. For the first time in their lives Stanley is facing dire consequences for his actions. For the first time in his life, Stanley is shaken to the core as he looks up at Stanford, face full of desperation. For the first time in their lives, Stanley might lose Stanford forever.

And suddenly the connection that has been poking at the back of Stanfords mind his entire life blazes.

He was powerful, once, an eternity ago. More powerful than anything here or anywhere could imagine. The reasons and whys and hows escape him, but he knows power like that can't be destroyed. Stanford didn't have a drop of it, so it must have gone somewhere.

Into another vessel, the unexpected child, when every doctor swore up and down Ma was only going to have one. A funny story to tell relatives, another reason to distrust hospitals, an odd thing, that every test showed one babe, and then there were two.

Unless whatever process turned who they were into Stanford couldn't handle what he was bringing with him. Unless the excess, the raw power and the personality imprinted on it, was given a hastily made last minute form. Unless they were split in two, so that they'd never be alone again.

Not just his partner.

Not just his twin.

Not just his human, to drag and keep and be his.

His literal other half, who held all of their power and not a thought on how to use it.

A part of him wants to shove the curtain closed. To turn his back on the part of himself that couldn't handle his success. To go on and grow up and finally be his own separate person. To maybe watch from afar as the power he knows is hungrily sitting inside of his brother explode and tear the world asunder.

It would be.... hilarious, to watch Stanley fall apart and not understand why.

But not as hilarious if he accidentally incinerated Stanford, the only one who could help him manage their flames.

And whatever else was bubbling deep inside Stanley's soul.

Stanford raises his hand, watches the tentative smile spread across Stanley's face, and bursts into action. He is furious, but more than that he's curios.

and hungry.

What else can Stanley do, what else carried over to their new lives. He pokes and prods at the pieces of who they were, watches hazy visions of fire, of Sight, of bending the rules of the universe until they broke, even as he flings things into bags and chucks them out of the window down below.

How much is there still, and how much can Stanley use before their meager human vessels fall apart.

Not that Stanford would let that happen.

Stanley owes him after all, and he's going to make sure Stanley pays up until their both standing on top of the world.

Together.

[cable-salamdr]

Guys I think the hat Kai is wearing shows that he’s one of the Forbidden Five— I am shot fifty times