#he’s not a part of an experiment or anything he’s just like this because he ate something weird

[heavenorhella2001]

This had never occurred to me way back when when I first watched playthroughs of the game/played it myself, but;

Seeing this post made me remember Max's nightmare, when she was trapped in her own mind/a broken version of reality.

And seeing this now?

Max definitely has PTSD.

Everyone always primarily discusses/ focuses on Chloe's trauma (which is understandable. I'll always be a Chloe defender and don't want to downplay her trauma by any means.)

But, unfortunately, Max's is overlooked.

Now, a lot of people might view this skeptically, question the idea of Max having PTSD. To many, it might seem like Max doesn't really have any lasting form of major trauma after the events of the game. Maybe she really was content and at peace and happy-go-lucky. (I've always scoffed at that scene at Chloe's funeral, when Max smiles at the butterfly.) And I'll admit, within the context of the story maybe we aren't supposed to think so. But if that's the case I just have to assume that's due to the developing team's lack of knowledge, experience with mental health and how it works, the impact things like this have on someone. Not that they are coming from a malicious place, of course. But very rarely does a person 'get it' unless they've been through it themselves. The average person simply won't understand.

But if you see everything I've described here as it's laid out, it makes total sense;

Let's talk about Jefferson. He is just one of many elements in the game contributing to Max's trauma. He was her teacher, someone she looked up to, respected, and was supposed to be able to trust. She truly felt safe around him. It's implied she had a crush on him. But her image of him completely shattered. After the truth about him was revealed, she was no longer able to trust her own judgement of people, her perception of reality.

He drugged her when she was vulnerable, and she was helpless to watch as he shot and killed the love of her life right in front of her. He kidnapped her, and she was thrown from the frying pan right into the fire. When she woke up she was tied up in a basement, helpless, and he had burned all her photos. Not only precious memories, but also one of her only means of going back and fixing things. He then took photos of her, over and over, this went on for who knows how long, while she was drugged, tied up and helpless, in order to satisfy his own perversions. Throughout, he mocked and tormented her.

Then, let's go into what happened with Chloe. Having to watch her best friend, the girl she loved, die over and over and over again. Max felt responsible for fixing it, preventing it, because she was the only one who possibly could. She would blame herself, think of it as a failure on her part each time Chloe died.

After watching her die in various ways, so many times, I'm sure Max questioned if she really even could save Chloe- or if Chloe was supposed to die from the start, and the universe was determined to restore the balance, no matter what Max did or how hard she tried.

And then there's Kate. This could go one of two ways depending on your choices, one of which is infinitely worse and more traumatizing, but either way it would definitely have haunted Max and left an impact on her.

Imagine how you would feel, knowing one of your closest friends was being bullied. Knowing they have been drunk/drugged and taken advantage of at a party. Yet instead of anyone coming forward, doing the right thing and helping Kate out of that situation, everyone at the party instead weaponized it, used it against her, slut-shamed her even though she wasn't in her right mind, was barely even conscious and was in no way able to consent to anything that was happening. Not that slut-shaming her would have in any way been okay or excusable even if Kate was acting of her own volition. Knowing that, even though you don't agree/don't identify with that, that your friend is deeply religious and clings to faith as a means of comfort. Knowing that she feels like a failure, that she feels like she's betrayed her faith, everything she stands for, and her family, even though she was in fact a victim in her situation. Being able to read letters, watching her family victim-blame her, hide behind their beliefs as a means to tear down someone they should feel obligated to protect, to support. Watching your friend be alienated by everyone around her, including her own family. Watching the school bullies write obscenities about your friend on the walls, and in the bathroom, make jabs at her and taunt her at every possible opportunity. Your friend's light has begun to dim, she starts pulling away from you, begins hiding away in her room more, which now feels like a dark, oppresive void. You know your friend is depressed, and you're trying to be supportive in any way you can, but there's a distance building between you you feel you can't bridge.

Then it happens. She kills herself/tries to kill herself. In front of you, and everyone who tormented her. Even then, the people who hurt her have no shame, laughing and recording her when she's in crisis. You begin to question and blame yourself, blaming youself for not noticing something was severely wrong earlier, not recognizing the impending signs for what they were. You want to help your friend, to save her, but your powers at failing you at the worst possible time. You only get one chance to do this, like everyone else, and you have to do it the right way.

If Max managed to talk Kate down, that's still an instense emotional weight, still a serious event to work through and process.

If Kate jumps…well…

Max feels like a failure. Like she contributed to Kate's death just as much as everyone else. Like she may as well have pushed Kate off that ledge herself. Not only watching your friend die in front of you, but knowing that it was self-inflicted in a moment of desperation, that they chose to do so and your words had no effect…

Now, the end of the game. Depending on what you choose, Max either has to to feel an immeasurable weight on her conscience, the responsibility for the destruction of the town where she was born. Where she grew up. Where she has countless memories, despite its' faults. The deaths of almost everyone there she's ever known.

Including (especially) Joyce.

The guilt of feeling like she took Chloe's mom away from her too, after Chloe had already lost her dad.

Oh. And that reminds me.

It was an incredible miracle, Max discovering her ability to go back through time via photos. Being able to go back 5 years, to when she and Chloe were only 13, before all the horror had happened, and save William. The sense of sheer relief, happiness and accomplishment she felt. She felt like a hero.

Only for it to all blow up in her face in the worst possible way.

Seeing Chloe, now a total shell of her former self. Completely disabled, and paralyzed. Helpless. Unable to live on her own. Seeing firsthand the emotional and financial stress William and Joyce are going through as a result of the accident. Chloe having so little quality of life that she pleads with Max to kill her, because she can't even do it herself.

(This is not my narrative or opinion on Chloe's situation, by the way. This is how it's portrayed. Quality of life, determining whether your life is worth living to due a life-changing accident or consequent disability is the choice of the invidual whom it effects. I'm not saying that anyone in Chloe's situation, who is paralyzed would inherently have no quality of life or no reason to live. That really depends on the invidiual, what that person needs in order to truly live and thrive, whether that person has family and friends and an emotional/practical support system in their life, etc. For Chloe, for me, and for many other people, though not all, living that kind of life would not be worth it.)

Max, depending on your choices, having to kill Chloe, to choose the merciful path, allow Chloe to exercise her autonomy in a world in which she can no longer do so and put her out of her misery. Knowing that she's doing for Chloe what she'd want someone to do for her if she were in that situation, yet still full of pain and regrets.

Max then having to go back and undo it all. Allow William to die again. Watch Chloe experience that horror and trauma again, knowing now she could've prevented it. But at what cost?

Lastly, if you chose to let Chloe go. To let her die.

That makes it immeasurably worse in my opinion.

The week she and Chloe spent together, reconnecting and rebulding their friendship, everything they went through together, would essentially never have happened.

Chloe, in this timeline, died alone in a bathroom. She never recieved any sort of closure, never got to know what happened to Rachel, questioning if Rachel perhaps just abandoned her, similarly to how Max did.

She never got to resolve things with Max, never heard from her again. She never got to know that Max still loved her, still cared about her and thought of her, but was too scared and guilty to reach out.

She never got to patch up things with her mom, or with David.

Everything Max went through. Everything she experienced.

To recap:

Having to watch her best friend, the woman she loves, die over and over again, feeling helpless, trapped in this endless, hellish cycle of death.

Being lulled into a false sense of security, betrayed and abducted by someone she thought she could trust, someone she looked up to.

Witnessing firsthand Kate's suicide/attempt, feeling like she failed her.

Being forced to let William die again, and force Joyce and Chloe to suffer that loss again.

Having to watch Joyce mourn her only daughter, after already losing her husband. Knowing she could've prevented it.

Everything that happened would still exist, but only in Max's mind.

She has no one she could ever confide in, talk to, or open up about it.

Chloe, for her, was that person.

No one would believe her, albeit understandably.

It's implied her powers vanish after she goes back that final time to let Chloe die.

She'd have no way to prove her story was true.

Carrying the weight of that burden, that knowledge and trauma, alone, would drive anyone insane.

Feeling like everything she went through, all the efforts she made to keep Chloe alive, were pointless.

I don't believe there is any way Max could be okay after that.

She'd be a hollow shell, just going through the motions. Totally disconnected from the world and the people around her. (Understandably. Who the hell could she connect to? Who would understand her?) Everyone at Blackwell, and their student lives and petty drama would feel so insignificant. So incredibly stupid and shallow to Max after what she's been through.

In fact, I've always felt - years after the events of the game, were you to choose to let Chloe die - that Max likely killed herself.

Over time, she probably began to question herself, to feel crazy, and begin wondering whether any of what happened, actually did, or if it was just something her mind created.

Max's trauma, her thoughts and emotions in regards to all of this are reflected in this part of the game, her mental breakdown. You can see her self-loathing, the way she blames and criticizes herself, in her interactions with herself and in her distorted journal entries.

Anyway. I never really liked Max all that much as a protagonist.

I thought she was a pushover, a little shallow, cared too much about what people like Victoria thought of her. I thought it was pretty unforgivable the way she ghosted Chloe, at the most traumatic, formative time of Chloe's life, when she had just lost the most important person in her life, besides Max. I understand anxiety, feeling awkward, helpless and flailing in that situation and not knowing what to say or do to make it better, but it just doesn't matter to me. Nothing excuses that.

However…

Max, did ultimately (well, depending on your choice at the ending,) make it right.

This has given me some perspective, and I have a lot more empathy for her now.

     you thought you could control everybody and everything, huh?      —   twist time around your fingers?

[evieelyzabethh]

"chateu"

⭒is it a dream or is it all in the past, i just thought i'd ask"⭒ Arcane characters and comfort {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, mentions of period sex, a bunch of fluff, that's about it

♞Vi♞

♞Vi's comfort is both physical and verbal. Vi is constantly in awe of you, she can't fathom the idea of you thinking you're less than, too dumb, not pretty enough, not worthy enough. She is also very aware. She's a watcher and a listener. She is very good at getting to the root of the rot, she knows that it's not just this one occurrence, it's a reaction caused by something deeper within you. I feel like Vi is much more emotionally intelligent than a lot of people give her credit for, it's just not knowing how to carry it out.

♞I feel like sometimes, she wouldn't get frustrated, but it would take a bit of a toll on her when you aren't as perceptive as she is. Sometimes it takes a lot of walking through the process to get you to understand what she's telling you. She is more than willing and does praise you until she's blue in the face, but she realizes that sometimes words from an outside source can't fix anything if you don't believe it yourself.

♞This applies to larger problems, but Vi would also be good on occasions if you were simply having a bad day. As someone who's had a bad life, she knows how you feel. You want to be left alone for a bit? She completely understands. You just want a hug? She is there with open arms and immediately chides you the second you try to apologize for getting snot on her jacket.

♞Speaking of which, Vi hugs are one of the most comforting hugs you can ever receive. She's just so warm and big and you are completely surrounded by her as she cradles your head into your chest and hums in your ear. She just has such a calming voice; her presence itself is comforting. I also think she would shed a few tears herself when comforting you. It heals the part of her that couldn't save Powder. She holds a lot of guilt about that, so much so that her comfort to you feels rehearsed, like she's been repeating those reassurances for years.

♞As much as you need comforting, Vi would need her fair share too. She never let go of that big sister/leader persona, she thinks her problems are too small compared to the world around her. She tries to fix her problems with logic to push down her feelings and most definitely is someone who thinks that letting those big feelings out is unproductive. This being said, you don't get a chance to comfort Vi until it becomes too much for even her to handle and she randomly breaks down.

♞Comfort is very foreign to her. The last time she received it consistently and healthily was from Vander and then her life went to shit, and she was thrown in prison for like a decade. Stillwater is not a nurturing environment, Zaun certainly wasn't either, even the comfort she received from Vander was more akin to tough love rather than something softer. She can be soft with you, but she finds it hard to accept it herself. It's a battle for her to just be in your arms and allow you to tell her its ok. She knows it'll be okay because she's gonna fight like hell to make sure it's ok. She hates feeling out of control. She's not used to someone trying to fix things for her; she's not used to someone being there for her.

♞She has a lot of tears to get out. Vi has built high walls of anger, but below that is a chasm of sorrow. When she finally breaks down, it feels like an endless stream of tears until she physically cannot cry anymore and is forced to heave in your arms until she either falls asleep or sits in silence, empty. It's very overwhelming, but she can't deny that when she can catch her breath, she feels brand new.

★Ekko★

★Ekko may not be a doctor, but he's a chef which makes the experience more than bearable. The second he sees your complexion get sickly, your wincing every time you move, and your coughs getting more and more phlegmy, he is immediately freaking out. He's running to get a thermometer, he's rifling through the medicine cabinet for whatever the canon equivalent of NyQuil is, he has a trash can set by the bedside in case you begin to feel nauseous.

★Despite his preparedness, I don't think Ekko is great at being sick or being around the sick. It feels like an utter waste of time, waiting around in the house for the illness to pass. Sickness is one of those issues you can't be active in fighting, the best action is to rest and sweat it out, and he is so antsy. It's a lot better if you're sick, you can't lie to him and try to pretend you're well when you aren't. Even if you try and fight him on it, you don't make it very far. Your achy joints keep you up at night, making you completely exhausted throughout the day. Your headache is so debilitating you have spots in your vision. Your throat is so sore, it physically pains you to argue with him about how you're totally not sick and he's being a complete mother hen.

★No; no matter how hard you protest, you are absolutely bed bound as Ekko works warm soup down your gullet even when you can't stomach it yourself but the rational part of you knows it'll make you feel better. The warm green tea he brings you has some tonic dissolved into it; the medicinal taste covered by a few tablespoons of sugar to avoid the bitter bite. He doesn't even flinch when you cough or sneeze into yet another tissue which is soon to be added to the growing pile in the trash. He only wraps you tighter, so you sweat out your fever faster while softly rubbing your aching shoulders. The thought of getting sick does cross his mind, but he's more preoccupied with his poor girl.

★A surprise to no one, Ekko gets sick right after you do, though he is far less compliant. He knows that you see right through his bullshit excuses. Babe, I don't have a fever, I always run hot. What do you mean I have a bad cough? I've just been clearing my throat. I don't get sick; I have too good of an immune system. I never been sick a day in my life. Even worse, he truly believes it himself. In truth, Ekko isn't someone who gets sick often, it's usually one bad bug every year or so. When he does get sick, it usually lasts a few weeks, the first being very mild and then eventually whittling him down to a bed-bound state.

★His bug only worsens the annoyance he feels when sick, you're almost glad when he loses the energy to argue back when you tell him to lie down. When Ekko's sick, it feels more like date nights than a hospital trip. Ekko can't stand silence or boredom which means a movie is playing for as long as he's bed bound. Aside from his mucous infested coughs, his constant shuddering through multiple layers of blankets, and a bowl of soup instead of popcorn; you could barely tell that this wasn't a movie date.

★If there is one thing Ekko enjoys about being sick, it's being taken care of. After he swallows his pride and that disgusting cough medicine, he can appreciate being doted on. Even though he's sick, he'll use a fake yawn as an excuse to wrap his arm around you and ask do you come 'round here often? His joking attitude is usually a good sign that his weeks in hell have finally passed and the light at the end of the tunnel (post sickness kisses) are finally on the table.

❂Jayce ❂

❂Someone once made a joke that Jayce would be the type to make a post on twitter like "I just found out about how bad period pain is. Can't believe our beautiful women go through that every month. If only I could go through periods for them, so they no longer have to suffer (I'm 6'7 btw)" and, well...yes! On a more serious note, I don't think he'd be the type to be super on top of it. He's too busy to have something like a calendar tracking it, though when the time comes, he's very quick to act. While he may be unprepared, he's not incompetent.

❂As soon as you tell him you started, he switches the light bed sheets to darker ones. All he needs is a list of your needs, your preference on pads or tampons or menstrual cups, if you wear them, what size pad you need, heating pads, pain meds, anything and everything you may need is currently being bought. He also isn't the type to be ashamed to go to the register with it, he truly does not think it's a big deal and is confused at any sort of weird stares he gets.

❂He is also over cautious. The second you look like a little woozy, he's right by your side asking if you need to sit down. He's standing around the bathroom while you shower genuinely scared you might pass out due to the amount of blood loss. I don't think he's squeamish around blood, but I do think he'd constantly worry that it's too much. Like how are you still alive after bleeding that much for like a week straight 12 times a year?! He thinks the female body is a scientific wonder.

❂He's also great when it comes to the emotional component. The second your hormones get out of whack, and you start to think too hard about your bloating or ragged you look or how weak you feel, he's right there with a large warm hand on your tummy telling you that you are being ridiculous. His very scientific brain comes in handy, something about his calming voice telling you exactly what your body is doing sounds enough like a documentary to put you to sleep.

❂If you work in the lab with him, he offers to let you skip work for the week, being completely surprised if you insist on still coming in. He does his best to accommodate you, going the extra mile to pack your lunch and making you sure you eat it, ensuring that you're staying on top of your water, he brings pain killers with him in case your cramps get too bad. You and Viktor roll your eyes a bit at his antics. You try to assure him you've had a period for years at this point and it's really not that big of a deal, but he insists on it anyway. All he knows is that you're in pain and he doesn't like that.

❂Now, pre-apocalypse Jayce does not do period sex. You're already hurting, and he while he read that sex can help with cramps, he also knows you're super sensitive and that stretch is going to hurt even worse. If you asked, he'd oblige, making sure to be extra soft and gentle, only pushing half-way in as he coos and brushes the hot tears from your eyes. Post-apocalypse Jayce is far less careful. I wouldn't say he doesn't care, but he understands the concept of a little bit of pain for a lot of pleasure. He's still sweet, carefully covering your sheets with layers of towels and folding a couple under your hips, but his strokes could convince you he's trying to fuck your period away. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel better after, though.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is not one to beat around the bush at all; he never even liked the man to begin with. It started with something small, like the lack of effort he put into dates or forgetting your birthday, and ever since then things just snowballed until every offense was break-up worthy to him. He didn't hold the door open? Break up with him. He was a bit too flirty with the waitress when you went out to eat? Break up with him! You caught him talking to his ex? BREAK UP WITH HIM!

☽Before the breakup, he is not soft about it at all. The first few gossip sessions were all fun and games but the more you talked about him, the more his dislike grows until he hates the guy and he's only physically seen him a couple times. He refuses to even be in the same room as the man, he says it's because the mere thought of him literally makes him sick and he's sure seeing his actual face will genuinely kill him.

☽He doesn't know what you see in him, and neither do you after the fact. Hindsight really is 20/20. Viktor truly isn't that great with comfort until he sees how seriously upset you are. You're crying over a tub of ice cream with a rom com playing in the background as you blubber about how all of your relationships fall apart and you just don't know where you went wrong, and he's truly confounded on how you're this upset over a toad.

☽This all being said, he's very supportive. It's a lot of work to swallow his sarcastic remarks and roll his eyes less, but the sincerity of his comfort is very easy. It's not instinctual for him to sit there while you cry in his arms, but the kind words he murmurs, you deserve better than that, you deserve a love greater than you even ask for, you deserve even more than the world, you deserve the better world he wants to create. And he doesn't want to sound smarmy or jealous, like some loser who was waiting in the wings for the breakup even Jayce saw coming from a mile away, but if he cared less about what you thought of him; he'd say you deserve him.

☽He realizes it's much too soon, so he buys you ice cream and tells you that you look pretty even when your mascara is running, and your hair is in a state of disarray, and he genuinely means it. He's most valuable for his honesty, it's why you came to Viktor in the first place. He was always honest about how he felt about your ex, even when he was holding his tongue, his expression said all the words he was too nice to say. So, when he tells you that yes, you're still pretty, he may be holding back.

☽It helps that he's funny and can be a tad impulsive. You want to slash his tires? Only slash 3 so that his insurance doesn't cover it. You wanna burn his clothes? He'll make you a pocket flamethrower just to do so. Even better than being open to violence and destruction, he's great at not getting caught. Though he doesn't believe in lying to you, dishonesty drips from his lips like honey.

☽When the crying and the disappointment fades and you feel good enough to joke about how you wasted too much of your time on a man outrunning wisdom, Viktor does slowly try to show you exactly what you deserve.

☼Mel☼

☼While Mel knows the importance of the exterior, she thinks its utterly ridiculous that you can think you aren't pretty enough. She knows insecurities are hard. 'The grass is greener on the other side' really isn't the comfort most people think it is. Sometimes it's well worth it to face the consequences of achieving what you've wanted. Whatever it is, acne, being flat chested, noticeable scars, being different is just hard. It doesn't matter how much your differences make you unique, it really is easier to be like everyone else.

☼She tells you every chance she gets how beautiful she thinks you are. To pretend that inside beauty is all that matters is simply a lie, she interacts daily with people whose heads are full of air, but people only respect them because they are a pretty face with full pockets. She knows it sounds untrue to you, but that's why she tells you so often. Not in despite of anything, not because of anything, you're just stunning.

☼Since you're already hyper-focused on your insecurity, I think she'd ignore it. Honestly, she doesn't think of it at all. It's about as noticeable to her as the color of your eyes or how tall you are, it's a miniscule detail that doesn't define you, it's just another feature. It's nothing important to her, and she wishes it didn't bother you.

☼While you are all adults, she knows that some lack the decorum necessary to not make their judgements known and it bothers her deeply. Anytime anyone speaks on it, she rolls her eyes. She thoroughly thinks it's beneath you to be bothered by it. Not only is it low-hanging fruit, but it's a sign of deficient intellect. They couldn't insult your intelligence, your competence, or anything about you that actually mattered, they had to go for your appearance, and she will tell them as such. She is very good at her professional insults.

☼As much as she compliments you, she emphasizes your other traits. If you're a writer, an artist, a dancer, any skill you have that you built for years or any talent you were just born with, she dedicates a lot of time to participating and validating it at any chance she gets. She wants you to take pride in something else, something that no one can take from you. Looks fade throughout the years, everyone is eventually going to be cast aside as their hairs grey and their teeth start to fall out. Knowledge never grows obsolete. Besides, people with legitimate interests and hobbies are too busy doing things they enjoy ruminating on how they look.

☼She knows it isn't what you want to hear, but it is what you need to hear sometimes. You are perfect just the way you are. She has never had any desire or want to change you. She has never imagined you any other way than the way you are. She doesn't want anyone who looks different than you, she doesn't want you because of the way you look. Of course, she thinks you're beautiful, but that doesn't matter to her. Never has and it never will. Just as she has faith that you aren't with her for how she looks, she hopes you have faith that you looks are not a determining factor for why she's with you. You are just you and she wouldn't want you any other way.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 705, part 2: The Moonberry Surprise.

It's true, the Moonberry Surprise moment, it is my fault

I hope you can forgive me for my sins. Hahahaha.

Ok, let's talk about this little sequence. But first, some... context?

Ok, so, Dragon Prince was my first job as Storyboard Artist, before coming to DPR I was working as a Storyboard Revisionist in Lego NinjaGo Crystalized. So I applied to Dragon Prince with not hopes that they will hire me, and when the offered my the job I was in awe.

So basically, I arrived to work in season 4 as a Junior Storyboard Artist. They gave me little sequences during season 4 (I was mostly helping my unit director with revisions) they gave me more during season 5 and 6, working on my strengths, emotional moments, long talking sequences and some combat. You know what was not there? comedy, because it was not one of the things I knew well how to do. But after a year and a half working in the show, I was seasoned enough to be a proper Storyboard Artist, not a rookie anymore. So they finally assigned me a comedy sequence.

I was terrified. Today after years in the industry, I can say that I am not scared of comedy anymore. But when I read the script and I realized that they were expecting a big comedy moment from me , I knew I was in trouble. But as they say, "you fake it until you make it" I took a deep breath and smile to my unit director like "Of course I can do this!"

But ok, lets talk about the sequence. We start nice, with the moon fam enjoying some time together. Was an opportunity to work with Runaan and Ethari, and that is always cool! I love how Ethari is just happy of everyone being there, and Runaan just wants to kill Callum (in an affectionate way, like he is just a protective dad, you know, a no nonsense dude)

So yeah, they talk a little and Rayla handles Callum a slice of Moonberry Surprise. Is like this almost mythical dessert that is said tastes like nothing else in all Xadia. And Callum is so excited to try it!

So, the script did not call for anything you saw in that sequence. The script instructed to reveal the Moonberry Surprise like something out of this world, and then have Callum almost having an epiphany when he tries it. My first idea was to have Calum almost levitating on his seat while eating it, while the rest of the moon fam looked at them in confusion. But during the launch of the episode (this is the stage where directors and in the case of DPR writers, tell SB artist what they want for every sequence we will board, we pitch ideas, and so on) was more clear to me that they were expecting something more of an "out of this world experience". Like the "I love books" moment that Callum had on season 5, episode 2, but on steroids.

So I was ok, lets make it as trippy as possible. So we have this fast zoom in into Callums face, that lead us into this "dimension of flavor" he is being transported to.

And he opens his eyes and he is floating in this space of color and flavor, his spirit being lifted by this experience.

He is experiencing all this flavors, eating this huge blue berries (this was my Unit director idea, Thanks Katherine!!), when something catches his eye. A figure, looking to him from the above, almost like a god.

And Callums looks up, revealing... this:

So, I have a really particular sense of humor (not unique, because I feel a lot of people share it, particular because really specific things make me laugh a lot). I was born late 80's grew up on the 90's with all the weird cartoons and anime of that time. For me adding muscular arms to things is the best joke ever.

This is peak humor to me:

So I was like, what if, Callum does the Titanic spinning thing, with a muscular slice of pie? So I did that... And I was SURE they will reject it.

So I finished my roughs, and I sent them to my Unit Director. She was "this is so stupid" (in the best way) so, she added some placeholder music, and send it for review from the directors, while both of us were expecting to have it rejected.

A couple of days after, our Storyboards Supervisor was like "WHO DID THE MOONBERRY SURPRISE SEQUENCE??" And I was like "me?", and he was like "Aaron LOVED IT!" and I was like "?????" so, yeah, was approved.

So yeah, that is my legacy, I guess. I am Runaan in this shot:

So well, those are all my sequences in episode 705.

Sorry again for being responsible for the birth of that thing. But that is my son now, and I kinda love him, even if he looks like that....

Next post will be my last! So yeah, stay tunned for my last post about my boards in The Dragon Prince, episode 708!

[vermillyons]

flustering katakuri

gender-neutral reader x katakuri, whole cake island arc spoilers, tooth-rotting fluff, gets angsty towards the end (bc it’s katakuri)

katakuri’s observation haki is keen enough to know when someone’s lying so it completely baffles him when, to his face, you call him cute.

no bullshit detected.

no one calls him cute (except mama when he was, like, 6). he’d love it and hate it since it’s at odds with his perfect image.

outwardly, he’s stone-faced as always but his ears are pink enough to match big mom’s dresses. he’s all too aware of it and, even if there's no one tall enough to see it, he bunches up his shoulders to move his scarf fluff to cover his ears more.

he’d just silently leave while everyone berates you for saying something so thoughtless and stupid. he can’t stop thinking about what you said and stresses out about what he did wrong to make you think that. he tries to convince himself he only hates it. nothing else.

at first, he thinks this might be some elaborate plot of yours to humiliate him and ruin the charlotte family. the thought enrages him enough to consider killing you. maybe what he saw with his haki was a fluke.

you’re bold, he’ll give you that. or just plain stupid.

for the sake of the charlotte family, katakuri decides he needs to figure out your intentions.

but he’s still confused as ever after encountering you several more times. the way you treat him is… odd. you show him due respect as big mom’s right-hand man yet you don’t put him on a pedestal like so many others do. in fact, you keep insisting that he’s cute to his face and seem to delight in teasing him.

he’s used to being admired and swooned over from a distance but he’s never been met head-on with flirting as shameless and sincere as yours. even with his future sight, he’s not prepared for the menace that is you because all his future sight does is preemptively fluster him before you actually do anything.

he still hasn’t recovered from when you told him that he has pretty eyes. you even gave him flowers the color of his eyes, saying that they made you think of him. he keeps them in his office and, when they start to wilt, asks mama to turn them into homies. you’re delighted by his flowery little secretaries.

ever since katakuri swore to no longer show any weakness, he’s also shunned romance. the cold, perfect persona he has carefully cultivated has no use for it. furthermore, he’s seen what marriage does to people and he had no interest in carrying that extra stress.

having had little to no romantic experience, he’s never been kissed on the lips. sometimes a part of him wished he had, just so he’d stop wondering what it’s like. now all those wonderings come back in full force when he looks at you. he likes to pretend for a moment that you’d actually accept his scars and fangs but he knows better. all your little comments and teasing would come to a stop.

you’d stop calling him cute. only disgusting. he didn’t realize how much he dreaded the idea of you calling him that.

he then realizes he might be a little bit in love with you.

[notaplaceofhonour]

I would both question the idea that the BITE model is the best model (not saying it can never be helpful, but there are noticeable problems with it*) and encourage everyone to take the work & opinions of its creator (Steven Hassan) and what he considers a cult with a heavy, heavy grain of salt.

This is a guy who quite literally claimed the reason trans people believe that J.K. Rowling (and by extension her “Gender Critical”/TERF arguments) is transphobic is because they’ve been indoctrinated into a “psy op mind control” cult by the Christian far right so gender-affirming care could be used as a form of anti-gay conversion therapy (aka the Trans Cult Conspiracy Theory).

And I don’t think this is just a case of someone having a bad opinion on one issue and a good opinion on another. It’s the direct results of flaws in the way he thinks/speaks about cults, which are baked into the BITE model. It’s exactly the versatility of the BITE model, listed above as one of its assets, that is actually the problem with it. Its reliance on subjective value judgements makes it easy to apply broadly, yes, that just leaves it extremely prone to just reinforcing confirmation bias rather than actually narrowing anything down & properly diagnosing anything. it makes it way too easy to apply way too broadly.

Hassan easily uses the BITE model to cast the fight for trans health care as a cult, criticism of JK Rowling’s transphobia as a cult, and even criticism of him and his opinions as the nefarious machinations of that same “cult”. And yet, I can easily look at that—the trans cult conspiracy theory, the way he employs rhetoric about “cancel culture” to silence dissent, the casting of his critics as the monolithic brainwashed masses in an “us vs them” narrative where he’s just prometheus trying to bring fire down to us—and I can easily use his own BITE model (as well as the fact that he was self-reportedly in a leadership role within the moonie cult, with a history of employing these tactics on followers) to make similar claims about him. But I think the truth is more complicated than that; I don’t sincerely think he’s literally brainwashing anyone into a culty group, just illustrating how subjective & loaded his model is.

This is not just me saying this. While his work is popular, it is not without controversy within academia. Fellow sociologists have argued that his work may be part of a moral panic about cults. Personal friends have suggested he tends to see cults everywhere due to his experience with the moonies (essentially, “when you only have a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail”).

And, on a personal note, as a fellow cult survivor myself, a member of multiple groups frequently targeted by conspiracy theories that use the same rhetoric he does (including the exact conspiracy theory he quite literally promotes himself), and just someone with a general interest in/familiarity with conspiracist & popsci kooks & grifters, the lengths that Steve Hassan has gone to brand himself as not just a cult expert, but THE cult expert (even making his social media handle literally just “cultexpert”) and the amount that he uses heavily loaded, clichéd, & hyperbolic rhetoric such as “mind control psy ops” about anything from Trump to gender-affirming care just smacks of “everything is MK Ultra” & raises so so many red flags

it just seems like the cult focused version of the narcissistic/empath pop-psychobabble that’s been going around for so long

America has a weird relationship with cults where they’re terrified of small cults (or organizations they think are cults) but completely normalized massive cults that hurt many more people (eg: LDS Church, Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Amish, Scientology, most Megachurches)

[maevesque]

A/N: I've no excuse, this definitely was inspired while I was finishing up "Love and Pestilence", like the idea already festered in my brain and the book was like "Here you go, the final push you needed." Because I love seeing MC going through it realizing just how much pain she's caused.

It was late at night, around 3:45am to be exact when she woke up in cold sweat, her heartbeat racing as she rested her hand over her chest. She turned as if she would see Sylus, but she wasn't in the N109 Zone. She was in, what should be, the comfort of her home. Yet, it all felt foreign to her. She had been so accustomed to the warmth and comfort in Sylus's home, that she didn't know much of any other physical home besides his. 

She sighed quietly, ushering herself out of her bed as her bare feet tracked along the wooden floorboards of her apartment. She reached up on her tiptoes and grabbed a glass from the cabinet and moved over to her kettle. She always preferred tea over coffee, not that she disliked coffee or anything. She just chose tea every time. 

Her hands rested on the handle of the kettle, the steam rising and tickling her hands with soft heat as the fire began burning more, the water gradually beginning to boil. She thought back to the dream she had, a frown immediately tugging at the corner of her lips, and her eyebrows furrowed as she recalled the scenes in her head

She remembered how she doomed Sylus's soul, cursing it to never be parted from hers. How his dragon bones held gently in her hand soon fluttered into petals as it drifted off the sky. Her unshed tears finally sliding down her face. She knew Sylus was out and about, the night owl that he is, and had she not have work in a few hours, she'd have stayed up as well. 

The apartment was much too empty to her liking. Then, it was as if a claw of time reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back into the present, her body lightly jumping at the sound of the whistling kettle. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes closing as she shut off the stove and poured the boiling hot water into her mug, a droplet of the hot water jumping out of the mug and onto her hand only made her jerk slightly before she placed the tea kettle back onto the stove.

She grabbed the mug, treading through her kitchen and into her living room where she settled on her sofa, her eyes gazing out through the balcony as she looked at the starless sky. She wondered where Sylus was, what he may be doing, and almost had the thought of texting him, but decided against it. Her thoughts were racing, realizing donning upon her like a weighted blanket that was more suffocating than comforting. 

"I cursed him." She said to herself, her eyebrows furrowing, "I doomed his soul to be mine and mine alone, to never be separated from me," she mused to herself, her fingers gripped around the mug, despite how hot it was and practically began burning her palms. 

It was then she had thought to herself that she had made Sylus a prison to her heart and soul, even though her memories of their once lifetime had been thrown into the abyss, only recently resurfacing by their newfound strength in resonating with one another. 

"This isn't fair... Not to him," she spoke softly, yet reluctantly.

Is the love he claims for me to be purer than another other love I have experience truly one of his own, or created by the chains that keep his soul to mine? 

She pulled away from her thoughts when she felt her phone vibrating in her robe pocket. She set down her mug on the coffee table and unlocked her phone. It was a text from Sylus. She wouldn't put it past him if he had a feeling she was awake at this hour, despite having work in about three to four hours from now. She lost track of time, not realizing it was around 4:31am. She read the text, unsure if she should answer. 

But her heart told her to do so, even if her mind screamed at her not to, to give Sylus this semblance of freedom away from her selfish, rotten soul.

She typed up a message, then deleted it. Repeating the steps until she heard pecking at the window. She lifted her head and saw Mephisto, tilting his head in curiosity then continued to gently rap his beak against the window. It pulled her out of her daze as she stood up, opening the window to let the crow in. Him immediately settling on her shoulder and even nuzzling against her neck. 

She smiled, her eyes tender as she gently brushed her finger along his head. She knew then that Sylus would be coming soon, the information from Mephisto and her lack of text responses enough to have him completing his tasks quickly, just so he could visit her. 

There was no point in hiding the storm that raged in her mind, crashing against the walls of her own prison, one she had created within herself. Mephisto cawed as if sensing she was delving into the depths of her mind once more and she laughed softly, rubbing the side of her forefinger under Mephisto's beak. While she didn't feel she deserved it, she's thankful that Mephisto helped her in that moment. 

Sylus didn't bother to knock this time, immediately appearing behind her as he shoved his hands into his black slacks and leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder, replacing Mephisto in a blink of an eye as he disappeared in a cloud of crow feathers that dissipated into the air. 

"You didn't text back. What's on your mind, kitten?"

She closed her eyes, willing herself not to melt into the warmth that Sylus always provided her with. 

"I just... Didn't want to bother you. That's all."

Sylus chuckled, his voice low and soothing, "I'm never bothered by you."

She wanted to believe him so badly, but her dream and the memories that surfaced to chew at her very soul made her question everything she thought she knew and Sylus knew she was spiraling, he just needed to know and understand why without forcing it out of her. 

She frowned and turned to look at him, greeted with the tenderness in his ruby eyes, his sharp features soft against the rays of the moon that shined through the window. She loved him so much, from lifetimes after lifetimes. He was the one her soul will always yearn for. 

Selfishly so. 

She reached up with a gentle hand that rested on his cheek, the pad of her thumb gently brushing slowing the skin as she stepped forward, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips. 

He didn't like that.

His arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her in place and secured in his arms. 

"Talks to me, sweetie." A soft plead in his voice as he squeezed her hips, trying to bring her back to the present. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, no matter the turmoil she was facing against herself, she could never hold out on Sylus for long. 

She breathed, "I had a dream," she said quietly, "about us." She then lifted her gaze to meet with his, guilt washed over her mind like gunk left from a bandaid ripped off too quickly, just by the gentle look he gave to her.

She felt so unworthy of it. 

He remained silent, a little nod of his head as if to tell her to continue, and so she did. 

"Sylus, you remember, don't you? I cursed your soul. Doomed to bound to me for all eternity, or until time no longer exists..." she stated, her eyes brimming with tears, "this... This isn't fair to you," she said quietly, attempting to pull away but Sylus kept her there in his arms.

His hold tightened as if afraid she would slip out of his hold. 

"And what about it? I told you before, kitten. Curse me. Doom my soul to be yours, never sever the thread you have created against fate for me. You may have cursed my soul to never be gone from yours, yes... But," she held her face gently in his hands and for a second, she thought she saw her dragon as if they were back in his cave once more. 

"The love I have for you isn't riddled by our written fate, nor is it forced by your curse on my soul. I choose you, my sorceress. My queen."

He leaned in, kissing her forehead. 

"No fate or curse can guide my heart to where it needs to be, to where I belong." He spoke in soft reassurances, surrounding her in that warmth that washed away her worries, those thoughts that made her believe she was absolutely wretched, "I belong to you and I belong with you."

Then, a shared kiss, soft and gentle. Their tongues danced for a moment or two, she lost track of time from being held so tenderly in her lover's arms, his hands caressing every part of her body before pulling her closer, a string of saliva connecting their lips as they parted for needed air. 

"Set me free, forget me all over again... Have you ever thought that I doomed you and your soul as well? For I will never stop coming back to you." 

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

20. can you two stop flirting ?? (written)

not proofread

You glance at Mark, who keeps absentmindedly picking at the strings of his guitar with one hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, and honestly you get it. This is a big day for everyone after all - all students want to know who will become the newest member of the band.

“You got this man, okay ?” Donghyuck dramatically places his hand on Mark’s shoulder, patting it repeatedly. “You’ll do good. You’ll do the best, actually. If someone’s capable, it’s you.”

“Yeah, fuck those losers who think they’re better just because they major in music.” Jisung scoffs. “We’ll see if they’re really as talented as they claim to be. Or if they’re just too dense to study a real major.”

“You say that like you aren’t failing two subjects already.” Mark mumbles, but doesn’t look up from his guitar.

Jisung’s eyes widen when Donghyuck giggles at him and puts a hand on his chest. “M- me ? Failing ? I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Donghyuck snorts at him. “We all know that’s a lie. You got like 6 points from the last physics exam.”

“But I can retake it ! It doesn’t mean anything !”

You look over at Jeno, who’s mostly been quiet ever since he joined you and Mark here, scrolling through his phone. It seems like he’s used to the two boys always bickering. He’s munching on some chips that Donghyuck and Jisung brought, and as soon as he notices your gaze, he smiles, still with his mouth full, and offers you the pack.

You smile back gratefully and grab a handful of chips from the pack. “Thanks.”

Jeno is definitely the most peaceful one in the friend group. You didn’t even have to spend that much time with him and you could already tell he’s kind and respectful, and also always willing to be there for the people he cares about. You’re starting to understand why Jaemin likes him. And honestly ? Good for him. He definitely needs someone stable in his life.

But since you’re usually the one doing most of the talking, it feels odd, sitting in silence with Mark who barely said anything in the last two hours and his three friends who you saw like twice in your life. But you understand that Mark needs you right now and you’re willing to sit this one through if it makes him feel better. The boy almost had a meltdown when you tried to stand up and go get some coffee, thinking you’re leaving him there by himself. You can’t do that to his pour soul.

Mark suddenly groans again, stretching a little in his seat and resting his head against the wall behind his head. “Y/n.”

You pause in surprise and turn to him. “Yeah ?”

“Will you be mad if I don’t make it ?“

You blink and have to chuckle a little, leaning closer to him. “Mark… this is your chance. You aren’t doing it for me, or the boys, or anyone else. You’re doing it for yourself. Why would I be mad at you ?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but it turns out to be a little too deep, resulting in a cough. “I don’t know. What if you trusted me a little too much and I’m just not good enough ? You spent so much time with me while I practiced, had to listen to me rant and stress over everything-“

“And I did it willingly, didn’t I ?” You tilt your head, your eyes full of affection. “Have I ever complained about it ? I liked spending that time with you. I’m glad I got to share your experience and learn something about you. And even if you don’t get in, it’s alright. Stuff like that happens. There’ll be other opportunities. It’s not the end of the world.” You smile reassuringly, nodding at him a little. “But I know how you play and I genuinely believe in you. Stay calm and show them what you got, guitarist boy, hm ?”

Mark raises his head, finally meeting your gaze. His lips are parted in surprise and he stays silent for a few seconds, just taking your words in. But before he can even get the chance to respond, Donghyuck scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can you two stop flirting for one day, at least ? Ugh.”

Mark’s cheeks immediately heat up. “We weren’t flirting-“

“You’re just mad that there’s a hot redhead present and she’s not giving her attention to you, but someone else.” Jeno chuckles and throws the now empty pack of chips away from across the room, surprisingly getting it into the dustbin. Jisung nods appreciatively at the shot and Jeno shakes his head again.“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t, Hyuck.”

You look between the boys, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. “Uh…”

Mark chuckles and rubs the back of his neck shyly, not enjoying the heavy atmosphere right now. “Don’t mind them. They’re being stupid.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to defend himself but is interrupted by the sound of the speakers turning on:

“Hey everyone ! This is Taeyong speaking. All students who are going to audition for the position of our new guitarist, please gather in the auditorium hall and pick up your number. We’ll call out your number when it’s your turn to perform ! Good luck, everyone !”

The speakers turn off again and all five of you just kind of sit there in silence, stunned. Then you notice the slight pressure on your thigh and look down, only to see Mark’s hand gripping your leg, hard. Mark follows your gaze and curses, retracting his hand immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous-“

“It’s fine.” You stand up, turning around to face the boys. “So this is it, then. Are you ready ?”

Donghyuck and Jisung exchange glances while Jeno just looks between Mark and you suspiciously, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Mark groans and grips his guitar a bit tighter. “I hope I am…”

“You can do it, Mark.” Jisung speaks up. “You’re talented. Embrace it.”

“Exactly. Just stay confident and don’t fuck it up, hm ?” Donghyuck ruffles his hair, to which Mark scoffs and pulls away.

“Plus, we’ll be in the audience.” Jeno stretches a bit and also stands up. “You aren’t alone.”

Mark takes a deep breath and nods. “I know. It’s not the end of the world either. I just need to stay calm…”

You grab his free hand and pull him to his feet. “Yeah, but if we don’t hurry up, you’ll be the last one to perform and I don’t think you want that, Mark.”

His eyes widen and he looks at you in horror. “God, no I don’t wanna go last…”

“Yep. So let’s go.” You wave at the boys quickly, already dragging Mark away. “We’ll see you guys later.”

Mark also waves at them, walking away like he’s dreading every step, basically hugging his guitar tight to his body for comfort. You snort but don’t comment on it until you both reach the auditorium hall. When you look at him, Mark is already staring at your face, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You coo at him, carefully fixing his clothes as you both wait in the queue for his number. “You’ll do well, Mark. There’s nothing you should be worried about.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Sorry.” He watches your fingers play with the button of his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You shake your head. “I’m just saying, I believe in you. And I’m already proud of you, no matter what the results will be. You proved yourself to me already, you know ?” You smile and look up to meet his eyes, a little taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on you.

He reaches out, gently pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. You gasp quietly in surprise, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected action but you let him, not pulling back. He doesn’t look away from your face either, appreciating your closeness silently.

“I really can’t ever thank you enough, Y/n.”

“You thanked me plenty of times already. It’s getting pretty annoying, honestly.” You grin, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, but I mean it. I’d probably chicken out and not audition at all if it wasn’t for you. You push me to be good. I didn’t- I didn’t know how to do that before.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. Yeah, Mark was always a bit shy, and also quiet as hell before you practically forced him to be friends with you, but you wouldn’t say you’re the reason why he’s doing so good right now, after all he’s the talented one-

“Next !”

Mark breaks the eye contact to go pick out his number and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You watch him check the small paper, turning it around in his hands. “I got 38.”

You also glance at the paper. “Well, that isn’t so bad, is it?”

Mark shakes his head, putting it in his pocket. “Nah, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath again, rubbing his arm, visibly stressed as hell, even though told him not to be. “I’ll try to find you in the audience, yeah ?”

“Mark-“ you groan and wrap your arms around his shoulders firmly, not giving him any room to protest. But based on how his hands practically fly up to your waist to hug you back, he wasn’t going to. “I told you you’ll do great. I love the way you play. And I’ll love seeing you on that stage. Take deep breaths, okay ?”

Mark nods against your neck, ignoring how the guitar is poking both of you right now since he’s still refusing to put it down entirely. “I know. I know…”

You pat his head affectionately, a smile starting to spread on your face. “Do you want me to record you ? So you can watch it when you’re done ?”

He freezes. “You’d do that ?”

“Of course I would. What do you have me for ?”

He nods against your neck again, still not letting you go, but then he sighs and takes a step back. “I should go in… I’ll find you later, yeah ?”

You chuckle and nod reassuringly. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts walking backwards slowly, not wanting to look away from you yet. “Yeah. So see you later.”

“Later.” You smile to yourself as you watch him leave, and you have to turn around and hide your face so you dont start giggling out loud at the way he almost knocks down an entire shelf with his guitar. This is going to be a long day.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: i wrote this last night while drinking champagne i hope it still makes sense somehow🤗🤗

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[hotcupoteckla]

Do people not understand catharsis?

Do people not understand thought process displacement?

Are people not aware that readers used to actively seek out books that made you feel and think deeply about things as a form of brain exercise?

Like why, why do you think it is when you watch movies or books set way back in time that the characters who read are bullied by the hypermachismo holders and are called "sissies"?

Because books enabled readers to cry, and crying allows a person's emotional resiliency to build, and hyper machismo holders hate it when other people have emotional resilience, because they don't have it.

Sometimes a deeply saddening thing occurs so quickly you cannot process it, because if your brain processed it right in that moment, you would stop functioning as a living being.

So you feel numb, and go through the motions, until you're safer and you start to feel happier again.

Then you read a book about a character losing someone dear to them, or how they survived child abuse, and your brain unlocks at least part of your experience in your crying and expression of catharsis on behalf of the character.

You cry and things feel better, and you're not as likely to shutdown over a memory overwhelming you when you least expect it.

AND if you are so lucky as to have not encountered anything so heart-rendingly awful yet, YOUR BRAIN IS STILL HELPED.

It now has an example to compare to when you do encounter deeply traumatizing events, and can cite the book as an example of "they moved past this style of event, I believed it possible for them, I can do it too."

Like maybe the character had magic to help them, but usually - it's not the magic that gets you out of a bad situation.

It's working with a friend, or listening to good advice from someone knowledgeable.

It's helping someone in need as you see it happen, without any thought of it being returned.

It's stopping your distress and thinking of a solution with the resources you have at hand.

It's convincing your jailer that this is unjust for everyone.

The triumph in spite of bad things happening to us is the Part that builds resiliency, and that cannot happen without a whumph getting in the way.

Like sure, the authors can make it so your favorite character that is the stand in for who you desire to be doesn't die, but would it be as compelling to read without that risk of loss?

If it was just rainbows and sunshine all of the time for everyone, wouldn't you just be reading another "billionaires get everything they want" story?

Not every book is going to be for you.

Did I throw The Last Battle across the room after C.S. Lewis decided to kill off Susan's Entire Family (we're talking 20+ funerals from a train crash before their family reunion) and then Victim Blamed Her for Not Believing in Aslan anymore? You betcha.

Did I think that sucked? Yes..100%

Did it serve his story? ...as loathe as I am to admit it, yes, he wanted to drive home the Christian Allegory and make Susan out to be a pragmatic adult, but one who lost faith in the stories of their childhood. We're supposed to feel less sympathy for her as she turned into a snooty Karen like mother to her kids. Her kids were on the train, as was her husband.

So do I hate C.S. Lewis? No, but I know now that he's willing to sacrifice anything in his story to make a point about faith and Christianity.

And all the Blorbo-Defenders from upthread really need to read more books if they think the WORST thing you can do to a character or your readership is kill a character off.

Sometimes, the worst thing you can do to a character is leave them as the Lone Survivor.

And it's better to experience it in a book, to become a more resilient person. To have catharsis built into your escape.

im starting to think you guys dont like it when stories make you feel things

[howlsofbloodhounds]

If killer had the chance do you think he'd kill nightmare / torture or would he just leave? Though it would probaly depend on the stage right

I think he fantasizes about revenge, about all the things he wants to do to Nightmare. He may even act out these fantasies on others instead, back when he was trapped under Nightmare. I think he ruminates over it a lot under Nightmare. I think he’d enjoy seeing Nightmare in pain and suffering, especially if it was because of something he did or said. Possibly even if it’s only on his behalf even.

But I also think he’s too scared of Nightmare. He sweats when Nightmare even touches him. He sweats when talking about or thinking about him. He doesn’t like when his attention is on him. He doesn’t seriously consider the possibility he could ever do anything to escape or win or fight back against Nightmare physically.

He doesn’t even try to resist when Nightmare chokes him unconscious. He just focuses on trying to heal Nightmare’s bruised ego, and explain what he meant. He doesn’t even bother trying to say that his words of advice wasn’t him trying to insult Nightmare, or imply that he thought nm was weak.

He’s not aware of his fear or able to completely understand or process his fear in Stage 2, which is also in large part why he finds it difficult to understand why he says or does certain things in relation to Nightmare.

In Stage 2 he doesn’t much believe he feels anything at all—detached from the emotions behind his revenge fantasies, detached from the emotions of his kidnapping (if he’s even completely 100% sure that it was real), detached from the emotions of his torture and punishments and the pain inflicted on him as soon as it’s passed—often back to the state of derealization towards his own memories, emotions, and experiences if there’s no evidence left behind.

(Probably one reason he may be apprehensive about the idea of healing physical wounds and scars or trying to ease any of the body’s pain. He sees the benefits and can’t afford to be disabled physically and deemed useless and discarded of, but the pain and injuries and scars are the only things his mind has to reliably latch on to. Something that was real.)

I think his fear of Nightmare would only heighten after his escape. He misses the familiarity Nightmare brings, but he also fears him. Even if he’s not aware of it in Stage 2, he’s likely to do and say things now that he’s free as a result of his fears and be unable to fully comprehend or understand why.

(For example, bringing back the idea of Killer being interested in the possibility of Color absorbing his soul.

He may reason this away as scientific curiosity, or a desire to understand Color more and try to connect, or even a desire to control. All can be correct, but what can also be correct is that he’s scared—that when he’s in Stage 1, he’s scared and terrified. And he’s looking for something that makes him feel safe from the person who makes him feel safe, even if he’s not able to process that given the Stage he’s in.

If killer associates power and strength and control with safety, that’s color. He just wields his power differently than the human and nightmare did, differently than killer has or would.

Color wields with kindness and integrity and justice and patience, something that still appeals to a part of killer. Even if he often has a hard time understanding or trusting it in the beginning, and likely still from others.)

I think Killer would love to have revenge. Likely ruminates and thinks about it often, possibly even draws or writes or talks about it with Color sometimes. But i think he’s far too afraid to do anything about that—and that fact also holds him back.

He doesn’t think he’s truly free from Nightmare, not really. He doesn’t think he’s strong enough deep down, he doesn’t think he’s “won” the game between them, doesn’t think he’s earned his freedom—not until he wins.

He probably thinks his escape with Color is a new game or a test, maybe a dream at some points, even if a lovely one—for a long while. Often just waiting for the facade to fall around him, or the shoe to drop, or some new entity stepping in to seize control over him if he starts to believe that it’s finally, truly over. Most days he just clings to the idea that Color is at least real, and that has to be enough.

It has to.

[bibibbon]

Now it's not about one of my wips. So ...I stumble a post here talking how Dabi was this close to became a Nomu, how dabi knows what Nomu are (maybe he is not well versed but it's not out of pocket he would know what is a Nomu) and ...how he may know how afo doesn't give a shit about shig(the last one is just common sense) and it makes me think...

Dabi has so many reasons to hate shig. Shig who gives nomus uncaring and willy nilly and use them as a weapon ...could make dabi think of endy (oooh no one would ever think that, but think this way Toya is a toy/project Endy created and tossed aside...shig does the same with the nomus)

I love them as frenemies....but Dabi has legit reasons to not like Shig...and I dont even think, in shipping sense, a hate sex situation would cut out.

If dabi wasn't suicidal...I think he could steal shig's position, kick him to the curb and...maybe killing the remain nomus as a mercy killing ( the last one is just an idea. Dabi is a villain, but before hori made him "the lil devil" to justify Endy...I think it was possible for him...to do that)

So ...imagine an au where Dabi does that. Shiga lost everything, and Dabi wins bc he is smarter.

This is not motivated by any bashing feelings. I like shig but possum doesn't give a shit to nomus, Kuro or anything else...he is a npc ...so maybe if he had to struggle and pull himself on his feet, without any plot device ...maybe the character could grow.

Hi @mikeellee 👋

It is true that dabi was incredibly close to becoming a nomu, considering that AFO literally retrieved his dying body and put him in one of the controlled hospitals where they kept kids there to turn them into another shigaraki puppet or a nomu.

From what we get in chapter 350 from Dr garaki, I don't think Dabi fully knew the inner workings of how Nomu's are made but I do think that he knew that Nomu's were once humans that were experimented on. Personally, I believe that the first time Dabi heard about Nomu's was probably rumours from the street of people commenting on how the ruler of the underground has created living puppets.

Dr garaki admits that Dabi by the time he left the hospital knew more than he let on, he knew what the hospital was for, knew what the hospital meant what they were selling to him, what they wanted to make him become and he rejected that. I believe that a part of him rejected that because he wanted to go back, he wanted to prove that touya is indeed alive, he wanted to reach for his family's embrace, to apologise to his mother, to earn validation from his father yet all of that crumbles the minute he sees what enji is doing to shoto. Touya dies, and dabi is born living only through sheer hate and determination for revenge.

Ultimately, I believe that the moment dabi meets Dr. garaki a second time, he is now fully aware of the origins of the nomu and has completely understood and solved the hospital case. He realises that everything is connected and he hates it.

By extension, he would hate shigaraki or completely dislike him for his ignorance. After a while he would also figure out that shigaraki is just a pawn in the grand scheme of things and I think (due to dabi's already toxic beliefs like victim blaming) he would grow to hate shigaraki even more. However, I do imagine that other emotions would grow something akin to pity as he sees shigaraki trying to break out of the mould just to fully fall into AFO's trap. Maybe dabi grows to hold a tiny ounce of care, trying to indirectly deter shigaraki from doom, but again, that's neither here nor there.

Also, I agree heavily with you that if Dabi wasn't suicidal then he would probably rebel on a larger scale, taking over and becoming a new leader. However, dabi is a man full of hate. That's the only reason he is alive. He is a man out of time, a man who is slowly dying with one goal in mind : revenge.

[tarvek-sturmvoraus]

srsly i'd love to see tim come face to face with the same crises dick has faced when it comes to damian. the same ones we keep judging dick for (yeah me too, i'm guilty). we keep going on about how tim would've been a great mentor to damian and i have a lot of fun thinking about this too but when you think about it, would he really? can he really do better than dick? if the angry child decided to hurt someone and was successful, would tim be able to handle it with grace? i think he'd also be vulnerable to the temptation of bias. would he be able to keep on top of damian WHILE being batman? what if damian comes later on, and he ends up going after duke? wouldn't the same criticisms against dick apply to tim too?

guess i'm just curious about how you see tim reacting to the things dick has had to deal with.

i actually know very little about what dick had to deal with while he and damian were batman and robin and im only saying i think tim would have been a better mentor for damian based on personality vibes, probably a healthy dose of fanon, and also the fact that after like a year of dick mentoring him damian still tried to kill tim by cutting his grappling line. so apparently he didn't do that great a job!

maybe tim couldn't have done better, but he would have definitely done differently. first of all, i think he would have been more likely to reach damian on a logical level rather than emotional - explaining things like parts of the social contract from a strictly utilitarian standpoint on why he should adhere to those rules when damian doesn't or can't understand emotionally because he's a brainwashed child with no context in which to assign these things value.

i also think tim might have done better based on past experience with bruce, whose behavior while out of control after jason wasn't too dissimilar to how damian acts in the field, with a lack of impulse control and general recklessness on top of excessive force. from what i have seen of dick's run as batman, he tended to throw his hands up in exasperation and let damian do what he wanted a lot. maybe i'm wrong about the frequency of that, but we have a significant body of evidence that suggests if he were to take damian on as a responsibility, tim would never relent like that.

as far as all of this happening while tim is also batman instead of dick, i...don't see a major difference? if anything that might go more smoothly since if tim got the cowl, unless we're also swapping which character is going on brucequest (personally i like sending jason in tim's stead rather than dick), he'd have nightwing by his side to help with protecting the city, even if tim is taking charge of damian's training - which they might not have initially realized would also mean becoming damian's primary carer, just based on how that kid understands training/caretaking dynamics.

[starrbar]

Yeah, I also have legit never seen someone outright hating Silco or saying he's purely evil or something? And me not seeing it doesn't mean it never happens, but I was just legit surprised to hear that anyone would feel that way about him in the first place.

I don't think season 1 fucked up with how they portrayed Silco as a villain because I feel like part of the experience was him starting off as this one-note nyehehe spooky eye Bad Guy ™ and then shocking us when he shows genuine care for Powder/Jinx and also more generally having more nuance to his character than the first couple episodes show. And I do think some of the things he's done are condemnable, but I also never took that to mean his goal of independence wasn't worth fighting for, nor that it was wrong for him to use violence to achieve it. On top of that, the narrative shows that Vander has problems of his own. He isn't effectively protecting the Undercity, only maintaining a status quo, and what he did to Silco was beyond fucked up. I think he's wrong that "violence isn't the way", and I think the 1st season demonstrates that.

I AGREE that the showrunners have shit politics though, and that those shit politics show really glaringly in season 2. I've heard some criticism of how season 1 handled a few topics and I agree with those points too, but season 1 felt like trying and at least mostly succeeding to be progressive and make meaningful commentary on classism, and then season 2 was straight up like "just kidding, the rich oppressors and police are the good guys actually, and it's your fault as the oppressed for being too angry about it! Just forgive people and they'll meet you halfway!"

Like. EW.

I agree that the level of disgusting messages in season 2 need to be acknowledged and pointed out. I just don't know if I really see the other connections personally? But I could be wrong. I'm just one person rambling a bit, and I'm sorry if I said anything insensitive or wrong. Not trying to be confrontational or even "correct" the OP.

Can I just say that I really fucking HATE how the majority of the Arcane fandom praising Season 2 is deeply in the mindset of Piltover in reality? Like, it's not even funny, and I don't know where to begin.

I'll just start with Silco because he's this huge metaphorical character who is clearly written as the embodiment of a long list of sociopolitical agendas in the real world. And before I start, pardon my English, since it's not my first language.

I know y'all in the Anglo-American sphere tend to focus more on classism, inequality and police brutality theme. But the way I see it, THAT and every single dialogue plus the specific word choice of Silco & Sevika literally SCREAMS of postcolonial discourse (I guess F. Fanon is most well-known to y'all) and even some part of M. Foucault's philosophy, etc. I'm writing "etc." because the list will go on forever if I describe all these creepy historical parallels between the depiction of Zaun's internal conflict and what real countries that have been (or still are) colonies went through, and what real colonizer propaganda looked like during that time—like how those characters who fight for the nation's independence are the big bad villain and psychotic monsters who need "redemption arc" therapy, while those who cooperate with the oppressors are the good-hearted familial heroes of this story.

So upon reflection, if this fandom were to be a collective intelligence, we should have asked ourselves, "Is this show truly not problematic for portraying such a character as villainous?" and thus, "Is this show thematically implying far-right propaganda?" even before Season 2 presented us with this insane plot that glamorized the militaristic fascist aristocrat proclaiming martial law as a 'romantic revenge arc'.

But what did the majority of the fandom do since 2022? They were so busy shitting on this dead villain, claiming he has done so much wrong that he doesn't even deserve to be praised as a character. So instead of trying to understand where this character's point of view is coming from, they blindly hate him to the point where they are now fabricating a list of crimes that he didn't even commit, editing false information on the fandom wiki profile.

What's more frustrating to me is that I thought the problem was media illiteracy all along, but oh no, I was being way more optimistic than the reality. Now that I’ve read all these interviews from the showrunner and main writer—Linke and Overton—I get the sense of why Season 2 turned out like that. The more they babble on about this show, the clearer it becomes that they don't even acknowledge how messed up their political views are, which are so far-right. Taking the seemingly-centrist line doesn't make you fair, you're just passively siding with the oppressors. And lesbian sex scene doesn't make this show "progressive", in fact, hiding oppressor fantasy behind a rainbow flag makes it even more treacherous.

So yeah, I think critical voices should be much louder than this, but watching the majority of this fandom neglacting problems only to praise the show? I think my hope for humanity kind of get lost more and more as time passes, lol.

[trconlyme]

SPOILERS AND DISCUSSION

The thing that really pisses me off in RotE, Fitz's books is the fact that I completely understand why Fitz made the choices he made. And a lot of those choices were made based on his own experiences. But all other characters rebuke him, seemingly forgetting the reasons or not telling the whole truth. Examples:

- Molly told Nettles that Fitz was her father but forgot to reveal she had fled Buckkeep without telling him she was pregnant. Burrich knew or suspected she was but never told Fitz either. Molly told her the truth badly enough that Nettles thought Fitz was a deadbeat that abandoned her pregnant mother. And literally, NOBODY rebuked Molly for fleeing without ever giving Fitz the chance to be a father.

- Chade rebukes Fitz for not bringing Nettles to court and teaching her the Skill, but forgets all the trauma Fitz had to endure for being a bastard at court. And how horrible his instruction in the skill was for him

- Chade also rebukes Fitz for being addicted to elfbark, but HE was the one that presented it to him in the first place and made him addicted. He just forgot about it, never apologized, and treated Fitz addiction as an easy thing to overcome

- Ketriken keeps talking about duty and sacrifice to the people, but she forgets that the royal family has power. The sacrifice is proportional to the decision power the royals have, both in the SIX Dutchies and the Mountain Kingdom. Fitz has only been used, and abused by that Family. He never had the chance to have real power, and he did not want his daughter to face this treatment.

- Verity literally VIOLATED Fitz body, and never made him anything more than the bastard. Fitz literally sold his body for Nettles' happiness and uncomplicated life.

Fitz was hit in the head, drowned, revived by a dog, suffered seizures and weakness, was poisoned , mentally violated, driven to suicide, permanently damaged by the skillmaster, then was sent to war, made to kill forged people in several ways, then was tortured, killed, made into a mental parasite inside a wolf, brought back to a cadaver, forced to follow a skill command against his deepest desires, shot in the back and almoat died again, then he saw his family being "stolen" from him, in desperation he gave up part of this soul, his body was confiscated and used in ways he never consented to.

AND CHADE STILL HAD THE COURAGE TO DISPARAGE FITZ FOR NOT TRUSTING PEOPLE

Sure, Fitz does wallow in self pity from time to time and did make some stupid decisions in his life: he killed the coterie in rage in plain sight and did feed his memories to the stone without understanding the full effect that would have. But everything could have been avoided if Chade had just poisoned Regal when Fitz suggested it.

So yeah, if I were Fitzchivalry I would have been a lot more bitter and a lot more resentful. And I would have said waaayyy more unkind things and confronted the other characters a lot more.

" Did you enjoy your uncomplicated and happy childhood, Nettles? Good, because I sold myself to make sure you had for as long as I could. And I did not abandon your mother. She just did not see fit to tell me about you, and neither did your perfect papa Burrich. So don't come at me saying you don't NEED me. I know you don't, you never had the chance to need me, I was never given the chance to be needed by you. And I wont force you to be my daughter. I have a son who chose me as his father, and this is enough for me. "

I think Fitz should have sais something like this when Nettles told him she did not need him at the end of Fool's Fate

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Things We Still Have in Common

Summary: In retrospect, Ford probably should have just warned Stan about the bunker's security system.

Author's Note: My sister asked me for a Gravity Falls fanfiction for Christmas, and wanted Stan and Ford trapped in a room together for 24 hours, so I put this together!

...

After hearing from Dipper about his experience with the shapeshifter, Ford makes it a point to head down to the bunker himself to check and see that it’s still secure.  It’s not that he doesn’t trust Dipper when he said they handled it, but the cryochamber Dipper mentioned pushing him into is fairly old, and Ford would just as soon make sure it’s still functioning properly.

So, after lunch, he heads down to the bunker, with a fair amount of tools to update the chamber if need be.

It’s been quite a long time since he’s been to the bunker, even after arriving back in this dimension, so he’s not surprised to find things moved around and changed.  Dipper did mention, with a fair amount of sheepishness, that they’d moved things around in the main observatory, and done quite a bit of damage in the tunnels.  Dipper might have oversold it a bit, however, because when Ford arrives in the observatory, he doesn’t find much damage apart from moved around papers and some flipped switches that appear to be long past use anyway.  The cryochamber is visible on one of the monitors, and the shapeshifter is still frozen inside, sure enough, looking just like Dipper.  The sight is more than a little unsettling, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about the chambers being on the verge of collapse.  There’s no sign of any thawing, or dripping water, or anything that would mean he had a time crunch in checking it over, and he doesn’t need to head straight in there.

He heads instead for the control console, and checks over the readings on the cryochamber.  It seems to be in good shape for the most part, and though he’ll need to replace the temperature modulator at some point in the next ten years, he did build it to last.

Ford writes down a couple notes in the third journal, which he brought with him, and is about to head back towards the entrance, when suddenly, a new figure appears on the monitor.

For a second, Ford wonders if the shapeshifter really has escaped and he’s seeing things, because he can’t think of many other reasons for Stanley to be down here in the bunker.  He’s carrying an armful of cans of “Baron Num Nums High Flyin' Beans,” and seems to be singing to himself.

Ford groans, but presses the button on the console that overrides the disinfectant closet’s doors, and marches over to it as Stan approaches the main room, making sure his irritation is plain on his face.

“Stockin’ beans for the apocalypse, do do do do,” Stan sings as he walks through from the tunnels, eyes closed and not seeming to have noticed Ford yet.

“Stanley,” Ford says, if for no other reason than to put an end to his singing.

Stan yelps and drops nearly half the cans as he opens his eyes and looks over at Ford.  He looks down at the cans on the ground, then glares back up.

“Great.  Thanks, Ford.”

“What are you doing down here?  This place is dangerous.”

“Relax, would ya?  The thing is locked up,” he says, gesturing to the cryochamber.  “And Wendy mentioned a whole bunch of cans of beans down here, so I figured I’d add to my stash for the apocalypse.  Hey, help me pick these cans up.”

Ford rolls his eyes and makes no such movement.  “You shouldn’t have come down here without my permission,” he says.

“Oh, excuse me,” Stan says, adding a fair amount of mockery to his tone.  “I’ve been pokin’ around your creepy inventions for thirty years, Poindexter, forgive me if I don’t start asking permission now.”

“I never wanted you poking around my inventions in the first place,” Ford says coolly.

Stan sets down some of the cans so he can shift around the ones in his arms, and starts singing again.  “Ignoring my brother, do do do do, ‘cause he’s bein’ a jerk, do do do do do do…”

Ford groans and turns to walk back into the control room, figuring he might as well give Stanley a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs his notebook, and is about to start back through the security room, when he hears Stan start walking again, sounding like he’s carrying far too many cans.

Ford turns around with a sigh, because if Stan’s going to insist on bringing all of the cans back Ford might as well take some of them, just to make the jangling of the cans quieter, naturally.  But before he can offer, one of the cans balanced precariously on top of the pile slips off, and Stan doesn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to balance another one that was about to do the same thing.

“Stan,” Ford starts, but he’s too late.  The can rolls just far enough into the control room for Stan’s foot to hit it as he steps out of the disinfectant chamber.  He tumbles down towards the ground, and all of the cans in his arms go flying— right into the security room.

“Wait!” Ford yells, leaping immediately for the control panel, but it’s too late.  Dozens of cans hit dozens of the alert panels, and the security mechanism slams shut at what to it is registering as a small army.  The disinfectant chamber slams shut and locks on the other side of the room, and an alarm starts blaring overhead.

Ford groans and turns a displeased look back on Stan, who’s currently climbing up from the ground.

“Uh,” Stan says, having the decency to look sheepish.  “Whoops.”

“Fantastic,” Ford mutters, sitting down at the control panel.  He hits a couple buttons, and the alarm shuts off, at least.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Stan says.  “Welp.  I’ve lost all of my beans.  You want to get us out of here so I can go home and mope in peace?”

“I can’t,” Ford says, glaring at him.  “With that many alarms, it stays up for 24 hours.”

“What?  Why?  Wouldn’t any intruders be pretty crushed pretty immediately?”

“Humans would, but they’re not what we were worried about when Fiddleford and I built the thing,” Ford snaps.  He tries a couple more switches to no avail, and sits back in his chair with a sigh.  “We’re stuck down here until it turns off.”

“Oh sure, and whose fault is that?”

Ford turns to him in bafflement.  “Yours?”

“I didn’t build a death trap for a security system.”

Ford leans forward to massage at his temples, then reaches into his bag, then pulls out the walkie talkie he’d given to Dipper in case he ran into some kind of trouble and needed to let someone know.  He presses the button.

“Dipper?  Come in, Dipper,” he says into it, and lets go.

“Great Uncle Ford!” comes Dipper’s worried voice.  “Are you okay?”

“Stanley set off the security system and we’re stuck down here for the next 24 hours,” Ford says.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have set it off if you hadn’t—”

“Will you two be alright until we get out?” Ford cuts him off.

“Yeah, I think so,” Dipper says.  “But do you need me to come there?”

“There’s nothing you could do anyway,” Ford says.  “Just hang out at the shack, alright?”

“Tell Soos to stay after,” Stan adds in.  “But I’m not paying him any extra.”

“Okay,” Dipper says.  “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.  Over and out,” Ford says.  Dipper doesn’t say anything else, and he drops the walkie talkie back into his bag.

“So,” Stan says, a smugness to his voice that makes Ford immediately regret his life choices.  “They should just hang out at the shack, huh?”

Ford gives Stan a confused look.  “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what you said to Dipper,” Stan says, leaning against the console.  “That they should hang out at the shack.”

Ford goes over his word choices and kicks himself.  “It is the shack until the end of the summer,” he says, trying to put “I didn’t mess up, I said exactly what I meant to say” into his voice.  “And then it will go back to being my house again.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Stan says, because Ford has never been able to properly lie to him.

Ford rolls his eyes and turns back to his journal, scribbling “I am writing this down in order to ignore Stanley,” in small letters.

It seems to work well enough, because Stan just shrugs and goes to collect what cans of beans escaped the security system.

Ford leans back in the chair and closes the journal.  He’s not exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending twenty four hours here with Stanley.  At least neither of them are hurt, and since they’re in this room specifically, they’ll be able to tell as soon as the security system shuts off, and get out right afterwards.

Out of the corner of his vision, Ford sees Stan set five cans of beans on the ground by the door, which seems to be all that survived the crushing.  Stan gives a disappointed sigh and wanders over to one of the shelves on the other side of the room.  He starts to whistle to himself.

“Please don’t,” Ford says instantly.  “Being stuck here is going to be hard enough.”

Stan’s only response is to start to whistle louder.

Ford resists the instinct to slam his head onto the desk.

It is going to be a long 24 hours.

…

With every minute, Ford is regretting more not putting a clock down here.  He can always radio Dipper if he needs to know what time it is that badly, but he doesn’t want to bother the boy with something so trivial.  It’s not like knowing what time it is will make the time they’re down here lessen.  Besides, then Stan could mock him for blinking first, and Ford can’t let him win.

Eventually, he and Stan settle into activities.  Stan has begun trying to balance the beakers that were sitting on the shelves.  Ford hasn’t stopped him because he hasn’t broken any yet, and at least he’s not saying anything.  Ford is reading through his journal and making updated notes and additions, though he often doesn’t have much space to do so.  His drawings tend to take up a lot of space.

Ford would be perfectly content to do just that for the entire time they’re down there, but he also would be a fool if he doesn’t expect Stanley to ruin it at some point.

Sure enough, as Ford is going through Dipper’s entries and highlighting parts that intrigue him, Stanley speaks up.

“So, uh, did you build this place just to house your shapeshifter guy?”

Ford sighs, and doesn’t look up from the journal as he responds.

“Not at first,” he says.  “I wanted to explore Gravity Falls underground.  I had planned to expand the tunnels at first, before—” the Shapeshifter turned dangerous.  And before Bill showed up, and all but robbed Ford of everything he’d loved about Gravity Falls in the first place, made all of the anomalies he’d come here for seem like pointless wastes of time.

“Before the shifter guy happened?” Stan asks, cutting off Ford’s train of thought.

Ford sighs, making sure his exasperation is clear.  The response “Actually it was before I got shoved into another dimension,” pops into his head, but he swallows it down and nods instead.  It’s needlessly callous, and would just add more tension when they’re going to have to be here for a while yet.

“You know, if you wanted to explore Gravity Falls underground, there was a dinosaur cavern already sitting there,” Stan says.

“I read about it in Dipper’s journal,” Ford says.  “I didn’t know it existed back then.  I’ll probably make time to go there eventually.”

“Watch out for pterodactyls,” Stan deadpans.  “Glad to know I beat you to that, though.”

Ford grits his teeth and opts not to respond.

“Did you hear about how I punched it in the face?”

“Are you trying to start an argument?” Ford snaps, glaring down at him.

“It would definitely make the time go faster,” Stan says, giving Ford a grin that’s just a little too smug.

“Considering how quickly I beat you last time, no it wouldn’t,” Ford says, adapting a smug smile of his own.

Stan’s face drops into a scowl.  “Hey, you caught me off guard after I’d just run from a bunch of FBI agents through an entire town.  Gimme a break.  I bet you couldn’t beat up a bunch of zombies.”

“Please,” Ford says, rolling his eyes.  “Most of them are in an advanced state of decay.  I did physically overpower quite a few of them once.”

“Oh, please.  If you had, you’d have written it in your stupid journals,” Stan says, rolling his eyes as he looks back up at the ceiling.

Ford clenches his teeth.  “They’re not stupid,” he says, in lieu of revealing to Stanley the pages that he ripped out of the journal.  He doesn’t want to revisit those experiences anytime soon, and especially not with Stanley of all people.

Stan doesn’t reply with anything more than a grunt, before going back to picking up one of the smaller beakers and placing it on top of the one currently balanced atop all the others.  At which point, his streak ends and they topple over, several of them shattering on the ground.

“Fantastic,” Ford snaps, standing and pushing the chair back.  “I don’t have any way to clean up broken glass right now, Stanley.”

“I don’t see any other way to entertain myself here,” Stan snaps back, bending down to pick up the ones that aren’t broken and setting them back on the shelves.  “I didn’t come down here with plans to stay, I didn’t bring anything to do.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Did I say it was?”

Ford groans in frustration and sits back down at the desk, getting back to work on the journal.

Stan doesn’t go for the beakers again, but instead goes and leans against the other wall.  He’s never been one to sit still for long, however, so Ford’s not surprised when he speaks up again before long.

“It grabbed Mabel’s pet pig, you know.”

Ford shot a confused look over his shoulder.  “What did?”

“The pterodactyl,” Stan says, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling in reminiscence.  “It uh, burst into the house and grabbed it right out of my hands.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Ford says, rolling his eyes and turning back to his journal.

“What, you’re not seriously gonna write in that thing the whole time, are ya?  We’re stuck here for a while, might as well reminisce for a bit.”

“I cannot think of any circumstance that would make me want to reminisce with you,” Ford says without looking up.

“And that’s just the kind of warm fuzziness that makes you so pleasant to be around, Poindexter.”

Ford drops his pen and spins around in his chair, glaring at Stanley.  “Need I remind you it’s your fault we’re here in the first place?”

“You think maybe if you’d helped me carry a couple of those cans we wouldn’t be in this mess?” Stan shoots back, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s not my job to help you with every hare-brained scheme you come up with.”

“Yeah, heaven forbid you have to help me out with something like carrying groceries.  Oh, the indignity.”

“I came down here for something important, Stanley!” Ford snaps, which seems to be the wrong thing to say, because Stan’s gaze darkens.

“Well,” he says coldly.  “If you don’t give a shit about my thing, why the hell should I give a shit about yours?”

Ford sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “There won’t be any long-term harm done, it’s just a rather large inconvenience.  We’re just going to have to grin and bear it.”

Stan huffs, and grabs one of the cans of beans, yanking the top back until it opens.  He pulls the metal lid off and bends it until it makes a satisfactory spoon, which he uses to scoop the beans up and into his mouth.

“Beans?” he grumbles, nodding down at them.

“I think I’ll manage,” Ford says, spinning his chair back around.  “I’ve gone longer than 24 hours without food.”

Many times, actually.  Food isn’t always easy to find in every dimension out there in the multiverse, and there are quite a few instances he can think of having to go without.  He’ll make it until lunchtime tomorrow just fine.

He’s not expecting a response from Stanley in regards to that, but to his surprise, he gets one.

“It’s uh, not a skill you can just pick right back up, Poindexter.”

Ford turns and gives him a curious look.  “Excuse me?”

“Not eating for more than a day.  It’s not a skill you can just pick right back up.  You’ve had, you know, stable meals for a couple weeks now.”

Ford looks at him for a moment, not sure quite what that means.

“I know,” he says eventually.

Stan sighs, and shakes his head.  He sets his open can down, grabs three of the cans of beans off the floor and walks over to the console, then sets them down next to Ford.  “Eat ‘em when you get hungry,” he says, and walks back over to pick up his open can again.

“I mean it,” he adds when Ford doesn’t say anything.

Ford sighs but doesn’t object, then turns back to his journal.

He’ll end up eating the beans in a couple hours.

…

As the time drags on, the quiet gets more comfortable.  Ford gives Stan a turn in the chair eventually, since it’s the only real place to comfortably sit in there.  To his surprise, Stan quickly falls asleep leaning against the desk.

It’s probably close to night at this point, but Ford had figured they’d eventually try to sleep on the ground, since sleeping in a chair like that would be bad for their backs at this age.

To be fair, the ground probably wouldn’t be much better, but he still can’t help but notice that Stan seems far more comfortable than he should be, hunched over a desk like that.  Maybe he just never grew out of his ease with falling asleep in class?

Or maybe, Ford realizes with a start, he’s fallen asleep in a desk chair a lot these past thirty years.

Ford doesn’t want to linger on that thought for too long, so he sits down against the wall with his journal and starts sketching out plans to install a failsafe to the security system.  Best to avoid a repeat of this situation in the future, and it’s easier to work without Stan jabbering on.

He makes his way through a decent amount of the changes he’ll have to make and the overrides he’ll have to install before his focus is dragged away by Stan starting to mutter in his sleep.

Ford sighs, looking at Stan in part exasperation, part amazement.  Even when he’s asleep, Stan finds a way to break his concentration.

Ford keeps his gaze on him for a minute, trying to decide if this is more or less annoying than Stan’s periodic interruptions.  He’s thrown out of that internal debate, however, when he hears what Stan’s actually saying.

He’s muttering apologies.

Maybe he’s also done that a lot while asleep at a desk chair these past thirty years—

Ford pushes himself to his feet, walks across the room, and shakes Stan’s shoulder.

Stan jerks awake immediately, and is already swinging fists towards him.  Ford steps back, just far enough to avoid the swing of Stan’s fists.  Sometimes those multiverse instincts are very helpful.

It takes Stan a minute, but eventually he seems to shake awareness back into his head, and blinks a couple of times at Ford.

“You— ugh,” he grumbles, the tension slipping out of his posture as he rubs at his eyes.  “What the hell was that for?”

Ford doesn’t answer right away.  “You were being unintentionally vulnerable in your sleep and I didn’t want to know things you didn’t want to tell me” doesn’t feel like it will go over well.  But it’s true.  If there’s anything three decades in the multiverse has taught him, it’s that you don’t just go around sharing your secrets with anyone.  It’s dangerous.  And that’s definitely what he’s thinking about.  It’s the safety thing.  It’s definitely not just that he doesn’t want to force anything like that on Stan.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Ford says instead.  “I’m trying to work.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stan snaps, glaring at him.  “Let a man sleep, Poindexter.  It’s been a long day.”

Ford walks back over to where he’d been sitting before and sits down with his journal.

Stan huffs and puts his arms back on the control panel, then leans his head on top of his arms, shutting his eyes again.

“I have nightmares too,” Ford mutters, because he can’t help it.

Stan gives a very loud, obviously fake snore, and Ford pulls open his journal and gives up.

Stan does manage to fall asleep again, after a while, and the nightmares thankfully don’t make a recurrence.

Ford hadn’t thought that after forty years apart he would have anything in common with his brother anymore.  He wouldn’t have picked nightmares, if he had a choice.

Or food insecurity, for that matter.

In the end, Ford decides an all nighter is more appropriate.  There’s too high a chance that if he shuts his eyes right now, he’ll have a nightmare of his own.  Bill would come to pay a visit, if nothing else.  He wouldn’t miss out on a chance to show up and mock Ford for something like this.  Ford can’t be sure that Stan will pay him the same courtesy of waking him up, and Ford isn’t ready to be vulnerable either.

So instead, he finishes the plans for the security system override, turns to a new page, and sketches a drawing of what Stan probably looked like, fallen asleep at a different desk.

Purely to pass the time, of course.

…

Stan sleeps well into the morning, which Ford definitely doesn’t mind.  He gets one radio communication from Dipper, that it’s 7 in the morning and they have five hours left on the security system, and also that Soos is going to run the shack today.

That last part wakes Stan up.

“Absolutely not,” he says, before he’s even finished blinking the sleep out of his eyes.  “Tell him we’re opening late.”

“He can do it, Grunkle Stan!” comes Mabel’s voice.  “Besides, Dipper’s done a tour before, he can’t do worse than that!”

“Hey!”

“That is true…”

“Hey!”

“Oh, alright.  But you watch him, pumpkin.  You’ve got experience with bossing people around.”

“You got it!  Over and out!”

“Hey, I get to say—”

The radio cuts off.

Ford chuckles a little.  “So, do you think the place will still be standing when we get back?”

“Eh, I give it a 70/30 chance.  Apparently they did knock a new hole in the wall last time I let Mabel run things, but it was fixed by the time I got home.”

“You— I’m sorry?”

“Mabel and I made a bet.”

“Of course you did,” Ford sighs, though if the damage is already fixed he supposes he can’t be that upset.

Stan stands and stretches, with a couple pops in his back that sound rather painful.

“You’re up,” he says, jerking his thumb at the chair as he starts to walk around the room.

Ford gives a wave of thanks and walks over to sit down in the chair.  It definitely feels nice to sit on something cushioned instead of the cold floor.

“According to Dipper we have about five hours left, by the way,” Ford says.  Stan gives a grunt of acknowledgement.

Ford sets his journal open to the page where he drew the plans for the override, and spends the last five hours comparing his notes to the actual control console.  Stan takes an hour or so to wake up, then spends the time balancing the much less breakable bean cans in different ways.

The fact that they have less time to wait than they did yesterday certainly helps the mood of the room, but even so, by the time Dipper radios to alert them they only have an hour left, Ford can tell they’re both itching to get out of there.  Ford does his best to keep track of how much time passes in the last hour, since he doesn’t want to bother Dipper every couple minutes for an update, but the closer it gets to the time the system will shut off, the more Ford wants out of there.

“Gonna go home and make some food,” Stan mutters to himself at one point.  “And gonna have to thank Soos for watching the kids for so long.  Maybe I’ll just let him run the shack for the rest of the day, he would take that as thanks.”

“You’d just spend the day napping,” Ford says, and winces.  He’d actually been aiming more for teasing, but there’s far too much flatness to his tone for it to count.

Sure enough, Stan snaps back, “Yeah, and maybe I’ve earned it, huh?  I’ve had to put up with your ugly mug for the last 24 hours.”

“We have the same face,” Ford groans, looking up at the ceiling.

“Your point being?”

Ford grumbles and turns back to his journal, though he is most certainly out of anything interesting he could find it there.

And then, to his great relief, there’s the sound of loud clanking, and both he and Stan turn in desperate hope to see the tiles to the other room sliding back, leaving their exit from the bunker clear.

“Finally,” Stan groans, moving immediately towards the room.

“Stop,” Ford snaps, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him back.  “Don’t step on the tiles.”

Stan shoots him a dirty look.  “I know that, Poindexter,” he snaps.  “I came down here in the first place, didn’t I?”

Ford huffs, and pulls Stan back so he can slip out past him first.  He trusts himself more when it comes to avoid tripping, and he’s not going to get stuck down here again.

He hears Stan’s irritated grumbling behind him, but Ford just ignores it to turn on the radio and tell Dipper they’re on their way out.

“Awesome!” Dipper calls.  “I mean, uh, that’s good, Great Uncle Ford.  We’ll see you in just a bit!”

“See you soon, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford!” Mabel calls, sounding thrilled at the prospect.

“See you soon,” Ford agrees, with a fond smile, though neither Mabel or Dipper could see it.

“Oh, and you don’t need to worry about food or anything, Soos made you lunch!” Mabel adds on as an afterthought.

“Yeah, alright,” Stan calls as they both head out of the security room and towards the front room, and head for the staircase.

“You want me to tell him thanks, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asks.

Ford glances back to see Stan’s obvious distaste at the idea, but he responds, “Sure, pumpkin,” in a tone of voice that doesn’t let any of that through.  “But all of you prepare yourselves, ya hear?  I’ve got a whole day of annoying you knuckleheads to make up for.”

Mabel’s delighted giggles and Dipper’s exhausted groan both come through the radio.

“Roger that!  Over and out!” Mabel calls.

“I get to say that!  Hey, give me back the—” the radio cuts out.

Stan chuckles with a fond roll of his eyes.  Ford looks at him for another moment, then pulls his gaze away so Stan doesn’t think he’s staring.  Still, as they both start up the steps, it occurs to him that he might actually still have one more thing in common with his brother.

This one, he can’t say he minds that much.

[championofdarkland]

Music

"Well well well, is that you old man? Hahahaha, wow you reeeealllly messed up didn't you? That's ok though! I get to have the last laugh!"

Kusef laughed like a hyena nearby as he seemed to have strained to hear what he could from his cell. He had been locked up for a good length of time in the dungeons. Unlike Kilmot Kusef was overly loud, overly annoying, and an overly foolish yellow dressed mage. He was an evoker, a master of elemental magics and able to cause a lot of damage with his pure magicial power. However, despite that he had added clownish parts to his robe to appear more fun much like Bowser's own clown car and one of the king's sons who also had a clownish motif to them.

Most of Kusef's crimes were damage to places around the kingdom most likely while the other mages worked in the shadows as well as being the one to trap Bowser and Karik within a series of painted worlds. He however, was a fan of Bowser and simply was told to trap Karik. Kusef was a talented magikoopa having a bright future. However, the reason he followed the leader was a simple disatisfaction with his teachers saying he still had more to learn when really he was bored to tears. He had no patience to keep learning other spells except the loudest and most visually "cool" spells.

He hadn't been told of the experiments, or anything like that. He was a simple patsy made to be thrown at a problem. He was barely out of his teen years, whereas Kilmot was a much older magikoopa.

"You heard what I said did you now Kusef? You were intended to be left behind, the leader and the others never cared about..."

"Hahahahaha, please it was just as I always assumed. You old men just fail to see my talents! Always bogging me down with too much talk when a simple fireball can fix everything! Why think about these deep disturbing things? I have the power to destroy what I want when I want! Well, mostly anyone Lord Bowser says...I always wanted to be one of court mages like Kamek! But noooooo...you need those other boring spells to be considered! Soooo, when the leader came around and said "Oh I recognise your talents, follow me instead." I toally knew he was up to something! I was never loyal to his stupid plans! Because Bowser is the best! He's so cool and awesome!"

"Please take me to solitary...that is far better than listening to this fool!"

Kusef kept on talking and talking it was hard to really understand what he was saying anymore. Kilmot looked even more dead inside.

Bowser is having Kamek write down every single one. That was a lot to memorize, not to mention the tortuous methods used on them. He has his arms crossed the whole time, a scowl on his face. He'd growl, but he manages to compose himself. That weird blue lizard lady, Reyna, was watching. He would not show weakness here.

"Hmph, you seriously believe that crap still then? Sure, you say your feelings are true. But you only feel them cause you stupidly still want your "leader's" plan to be truly good and better. They ain't your feelings. You're still just feeling what that guy wants you to. Course, for everything you did, you're still gonna have to pay. So, for now, till we decide what to do with you and the others, you'll be in solitary confinement in the dungeon. And we will make sure you live till we say otherwise. You don't get to weasel your outta this by dying." He says, ordering his guards to detain him and take him away.

Saleos won't say a word otherwise, he can't deny Karik his feelings. He just wishes there was some way all of this could have been avoided.

[emshiftss]

I think I almost shifted

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I woke up around 9 this morning and was kinda irritated that the night prior my cat was being annoying when I went to lay down and meditate but I just shrugged it off, it’s Christmas anyways.

I then saw a post on Reddit regarding a way to have your body asleep and mind awake. I thought it was kind of interesting and made a mental note to try it out and laid down and contemplated just shifting right then and there. Most times when I “try” to shift it’s not in the morning due to everyone being up and what not. But I was, still am, kind of just over my shifting journey at this point.

Instead of referencing the info I saw on Reddit I just began to think of my plans my first day in my DR. Eventually my dad turned the heat on because it was so cold and I just decided to let myself rest more bc I didn’t sleep well.

I continued to think of my first day as I drifted off to sleep and how annoyed I was with my journey.

Eventually I slipped into a dream, a very strange one at that, an experience I’ve never had before really.

It began with me trying cake for my wedding (?) and for a bit it was somewhat normal. I’m not sure when exactly my dream changed but I remember being in the car with my sister and dad, he was driving us home. At this point I was constantly teetering on being awake and in a dream, and it’s clear to me now that in this dream I thought I was awake and living out today.

My dad mentioned how he picked up Chinese food for my mom, and I thought that was weird because he was supposed to make wings tonight. I remember joking with my sister that it sucks he did that because we were planning to get Chinese food later.

This dream was so vivid… I remember looking out of the car on the way home and it was so beautiful, the way the light was going through the trees the architecture. I thought to myself “I don’t remember this place ever looking like this.. so odd” there were so many indicators in this dream that I feel like I should’ve gotten lucid but I never did…?

Anyways we got home and the only parts I remember is I was standing on the couch for some reason (it was also in a different spot) and there was a wolf there??? I called out for my dad and when he came into the living room the wolf was gone. He looked at me strangely and said something like “did you not drink enough coffee today” and I remember thinking that that was such a strange thing for him to say in general but also in that moment as I stood on the couch claiming there was a literal wolf in our living room. But still I didn’t become lucid.

Instead I laid on the couch I said to myself “I’m just gonna shift instead” and right when I closed my eyes and said I’m in my DR, my body began buzzing all over, I began to feel as though I was floating and my surroundings around me began to warp. I got excited but stayed focused, I continued saying “I am in my DR” and I imagined where I was gonna wake up, what I would be wearing… and the sensations became more extreme. I continued to persist. But unfortunately something woke me up here.

It was such an odd experience, I’ve lucid dreamt many times and tried shifting via a dream many times before too. But never anything like this where I thought I was awake and just subconsciously did an attempt?????? This feels like a good thing but… where does this leave me? What does this mean, and why didn’t I shift :(

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒