#not by the actual narrative rather the narrative of their creation

[nonbinary-sticks-the-badger]

i really wanna do perci + staci redesigns because UGHHH

[queenlucythevaliant]

Professor Kirke remained at the small dining table after the last of the dishes had been cleared away, puffing clouds on his pipe. It was strange, thought Lucy: he had a faraway look in his eyes, as though some tiny aspect of his reality had shifted over dinner and he was struggling to accommodate it.

“I wonder what he’s thinking about,” murmured Lucy to the others. Edmund shrugged and Eustace (who had only met the professor that night) said nothing, but Peter chuckled merrily and patted Lucy on the arm.  

“You’ll find out soon enough, that’s certain. He got that look in his eye when you were talking about the Island of Dreams, Lu. No doubt he’ll call you into his study for a lesson later on.”

It was a little more than a week later that Peter’s prediction came true. Professor Kirke seated himself across his desk from Lucy with an enormous tome of poetry spread out before him. “Have you heard The Rime of the Ancient Mariner?” he inquired.

Lucy shook her head. Yet rather than muttering about the state of the schools as she had expected, Professor Kirke simply smiled beneath his whiskers and began to declaim:

“It is an ancient Mariner /And he stoppeth one of three —"

Lucy leaned back in her seat and fixed her attention on the words as best she could. Once, she’d spoken in such a register as queen of Narnia, but now she was only a girl of ten and unaccustomed to the flowery language of Romantic poetry.

“At length did cross an Albatross,

Thorough the fog it came—”

“Oh!” cried Lucy. “Is that why you wanted me to hear this poem?”

“Just so,” the professor replied. “Your account of the Island where Dreams Come True bears a marked resemblance to The Rime, beginning with the presence of the albatross. In this poem, the albatross bears a symbolic connection to Jesus Christ himself.”

“How peculiar!”

“I thought so too. Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote this poem in 1797, in a time when sea voyages to the polar regions were very much like your own voyage to the end of the world. The albatross had only lately been described in writing, but he wrote it coming out of the desolate fog to guide sailors to safety. And Coleridge was a neo-Platonist! Fog and ice are very much like darkness, the way he uses them here.”

“A neo-Platonist?” Lucy asked, wrinkling her nose.

And now came the Professor’s customary muttering. “Yes. What do they teach in these schools? You may read darkness and fog both in Coleridge as something between ignorance and innocence, with the Sun as a symbol of Reason. Does that make sense?”

“A little,” said Lucy, who privately didn’t think it made much sense at all but was eager for the professor to continue the poem.

“It ate the food it ne'er had eat,

And round and round it flew.

The ice did split with a thunder-fit;

The helmsman steered us through!”

Lucy hadn’t meant to interrupt again so soon, but the words were out of her mouth before she was really aware that she’d spoken them. “So it really is just like in Narnia! It guides the ship out of the ice like my Albatross guided us out of the darkness.”

“Yes.” Professor Kirke was entirely unperturbed by the interruption. “Precisely.”

“How lovely. Isn’t it interesting how you just know when birds are trustworthy?”

The professor chuckled. “You may change your mind in a few stanzas. Shall I go on?”

“Please.”

Lucy returned to her concentration as the mariner recounted how a good wind had sprung up after the Albatross and how it had stayed with the ship and perched on the mast sometimes for evening prayers. Yet the mariner must have looked unhappy, for the groom interrupted to ask him why.

“With my cross-bow/ I shot the albatross.” Professor Kirke paused here in his telling and looked very hard at Lucy.

It took her a long moment to understand. “The albatross isn’t dead, is he?”

“He is.”

“I thought you said he was like Aslan.”

“And didn’t you see Aslan die?”

Lucy opened her mouth, but closed it a moment later. Open again, “But why did the mariner kill him? Doesn’t he give any reason? The witch killed Aslan because she was evil and trying to conquer Narnia. Why would the mariner kill the albatross when it’s done nothing but help him?”

“Perhaps,” the professor replied, “the Gospels are a simpler comparison here. ‘I shot the albatross’ has the same kind of blunt irrefutability as ‘And they crucified him.’ There isn’t any excuse, which I think makes the confession all the more powerful.”

Lucy sighed. It was exhausting trying to keep this all straight. “I suppose that makes a kind of sense. But then we’re trying to think on three different levels of parallel—the poem, the Bible and Narnia—which isn’t very pleasant.”

“And yet, it’s necessary if one wishes to understand deeper meanings. We can pause for tea, if you’d like?”

“No, that’s alright. I think I’m keeping track well enough for now. I say though, is this what you do with Peter all day?”

The question seemed to catch Professor Kirke off guard, for he let out a sudden, loud burst of laughter as soon as Lucy asked it. “Yes, after a manner of speaking. Shall we go on?”

“Ah! well a-day! what evil looks

Had I from old and young!

Instead of the cross, the Albatross

About my neck was hung.”

It was a difficult thing to imagine and Lucy wondered if Aslan’s albatross was unusually large. Aslan was always bigger than she expected him to be, so it would not be strange if he took the form of an unusually large albatross. Yet the more Lucy considered, the more sense the image made.

“It must have been at least three meters,” said Lucy. “The albatross, I mean. Mine was more like four, from wingtip to wingtip. It would be a dreadful weight, but I suppose that’s the point. The mariner can’t carry it, can he?”

“I think you’re right,” said Professor Kirke.

A smile tugged at Lucy’s cheeks. It was lovely to hear the professor give such an unequivocal endorsement of her analysis. Galvanized by the success, she continued, “I thought of a cross when my albatross appeared out of the darkness. There’s something in the proportion of the body to the wings, and in its stillness of it as it glides through the air. My albatross tore away the darkness. But here—it’s like the mariner carries his albatross like he thinks that act can save him from what he’s done.”

There was a glittering in the old professor’s eyes then, and suddenly Lucy realized that she wasn’t struggling with the poem’s language anymore. Maybe it was because she’d been listening to it for the better part of ten minutes, but privately she wondered if Narnia’s magic might be working on her somehow. Perhaps this poem contained some quality of the rich Narnian air.

“I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;

But or ever a prayer had gusht,

A wicked whisper came, and made

My heart as dry as dust.”

Lucy shut her eyes and remembered the fighting-top of the Dawn Treader. The night-mare life-in-death was a black abyss, and all her own nightmares had been there in it. There had been monsters, of course, and the idea that even if she ran down to stand beside Edmund he might become a monster himself. But somewhere in all that dark, there was a Lucy who never spoke to Aslan again. She’d imagined herself in Lord Rhoop’s place, trapped forever in a state of endless fear-without-courage, because she could not call him.

“That was my night-mare too,” she whispered. “Not being able to pray.”

She saw the professor’s lips thin beneath his whiskers and wondered at it. “You’re wiser than you have any right to be,” he murmured. “Ten years old and your greatest nightmare is alienation from God. What a marvel you’ll be when you’re grown.”

Well then. Lucy didn’t have any notion what to say to that. She half expected that if she tried to reply, she might start crying.

“Might I ask—what did you do then? Until the albatross arrived, once you realized that you couldn’t pray. How did you react?”

And that was a question she could answer.

“But I could pray! I did. I whispered, ‘Aslan, if you ever loved us at all, send us help now.’ And that was when the albatross came. I didn’t talk about it after—it was too much my own for me to share it, really—Edmund knows—but well…”

The professor made a sort of choked noise in his throat. “Perhaps it was the only nightmare that the island couldn’t bring true.”

“But there have been times,” continued Lucy, “when my heart was too dry to speak with Aslan. There were whole years when I was queen that he didn’t come at all.”

It was with a much softer voice that Professor Kirke resumed his reading.

“A spring of love gushed from my heart,

And I blessed them unaware:

Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

And I blessed them unaware.

 The self-same moment I could pray;

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.”

Here, the professor lapsed into silence. Lucy thought that the poem might be over, but when she peered across the desk at the page there were columns of stanzas still left.

“Even after all these years,” he whispered, “some things still remind me of my own days in Narnia.”

He’d told the children his story before, of course: beginning with how he met Aunt Polly and concluding with the origins of the wardrobe. Aslan had not condemned him for bringing the White Witch to Narnia. Instead, he’d had loved Digory enough to shed tears and sent him home with an apple so beautiful that it healed his dying mother.

“Grace,” Lucy whispered into the hush. “Of course. Maybe this is the moment where Aslan leads the mariner out of the darkness.”

Professor Kirke exhaled heavily. The faraway look in his eye lessened a little bit, and at length he read on.

“The spirit slid: and it was he

That made the ship to go.”

Never had Lucy felt Aslan’s presence more keenly in his absence than during those last days as the Dawn Treader had sailed over the still, clear waters at world’s end; like Aslan himself had been drawing them towards himself by some great, invisible rope.

The closer they’d come to his country, the more tangible his spirit had been. When at last she glimpsed those green mountains beyond the waves, Lucy’s very bones understood that Aslan had made the still seas bring them there.

A voice spoke out of the air concerning the mariner, and Lucy remembered the piercing silence of the Last Sea. Of the voice, the mariner said, “He loved the bird that loved the man/ Who shot him with his bow.”

Not for the first time, Lucy wondered about Aslan’s father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. What did he say to Aslan when he left that land of high mountains to return to Narnia and die at the Witch’s hand? What did he think when Aslan went flying across the lily-covered seas on feathered wings to rescue their little ship? If Lucy had crossed that final threshold with Reepicheep, would she have met the Emperor there?

“The voice is his father,” Lucy said, voice brimming with certainty. “The albatross’s father, I mean. The Emperor-beyond-the-Sea.”

“I know,” the professor replied. “And beyond the sea is just where our mariner meets him.”

“Do you think the mariner knew that the albatross loved him?”

The professor stroked his chin again, and a ghost of a smile played across his features. “If the mariner didn’t know it when he shot him, he certainly knows now. But come, we’re nearly at the end of the poem.

“Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,

Yet she sailed softly too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—

On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed

The light-house top I see?”

“There’s one more thing I haven’t told you,” Lucy said. “Something so bright and mysterious that I’ve not even told Edmund. When the albatross came, it—it spoke to me. And I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

Professor Kirke leaned forward, but his words were, “You needn’t tell me what he said if you’d prefer not to.”

Lucy nodded slowly. Somehow, she knew that if she tried to describe “Courage, dear heart,” she would fail. There was nothing, no word or image or music or poetry in this world or any other that could convey what that moment had been. To speak of it at all would be like dancing about architecture.

“I was the only one who heard him,” Lucy whispered. “It was my prayer, and he spoke to me. I wonder how this poet knows what it was like?”

“I think he knows the same way I do, in my own way. Coleridge lived a difficult life. He was a laudanum addict when he wrote this, for one thing. When the Divine voice speaks into our darkness and we feel his breath on our faces, it binds us together with every other person who has ever been rescued by an albatross that loved us. We don’t know what he says to other people, but we know how the breeze feels.”

The professor returned to his reading and concluded the poem while Lucy sat in astonishment and let the strangeness of the last hour wash over her.

“…A sadder and a wiser man/ He rose the morrow morn,” and with those words Professor Kirke shut the book. The heavy pages fell with a thud, and with bright eyes he looked at Lucy. “What do you think of it?”

“I think,” said Lucy slowly, “that it was a beautiful story. The very best kind.”

What she did not say, but what she was thinking, was that it reminded her of the story she’d read in the Magician’s book: the one about the cup, the sword, the tree, and the green hill. The two tales had no common points of reference, but they left her with much the same feeling.

“But why do you think Aslan came to me as an albatross?”

Professor Kirke harrumphed. “I have been asking myself that same question ever since you spoke of it. Why indeed? I wonder whether perhaps in part he appeared that way so that you would come back here and read ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,’ and come to know him better by it. If nothing else, I do not think it was a coincidence.”

Yes, perhaps, but the answer still felt incomplete. “Maybe it’s a stone in the bridge he talked about,” Lucy said. “Maybe he only wanted to show me—to show us—that he’s here too. In this world, in this time, and in all others. Maybe it’s like you said, and there’s an albatross for every person who’s ever been rescued from the darkness.”

[saberdramon]

baffled at the way people approach character creation. wdym you can take a trope like smug demonguy or muscle mommy and flesh that out into a character you care about without having to mangle 5 already existing characters into it and also throw out the entire concept when you find out something wholly different works infinitely better

[thydungeongal]

There's this idea floating around the general TTRPG space that's kind of hard to put one's finger on which I think is best articulated as "the purpose of an RPG is to produce a conventionally shaped satisfying narrative," and in this context I mean RPG as not just the game as it exists in the book but the act of play itself.

And this isn't exactly a new thing: since time immemorial people have tried to force TTRPGs to produce traditional narratives for them, often to be disappointed. I also feel this was behind a lot of the discussion that emerged from the Forge and that informed the first "narrativist" RPGs (I'm only using the word here as a shorthand: I don't think the GNS taxonomy is very useful as more than a shibboleth): that at least for some TTRPGs the creation of a story was the primary goal (heck, some of them even called themselves Storytelling games), but since those games when played as written actually ended up resisting narrative convention they were on some level dysfunctional for that purpose.

There's some truth to this but also a lot of nuance: when you get down to the roots of the hobby, the purpose of a game of D&D wasn't the production of a narrative. It was to imagine a guy and put that guy in situations, as primarily a game that challenged the player. The production of a narrative was secondary and entirely emergent.

But in the eighties you basically get the first generation of players without the background from wargames, whose impressions of RPGs aren't colored by the assumption that "it's kind of like a wargame but you only control one guy." And you start getting lots of RPGs, some of which specifically try to model specific types of stories. But because the medium is still new the tools used to achieve those stories are sometimes inelegant (even though people see the potential for telling lots of stories using the medium, they are still largely letting their designs be informed by the "wargame where you only control one guy" types of game) and players and designers alike start to realize that these systems need a bit of help to nudge the games in the direction of a satisfying narrative. Games start having lots of advice not only from the point of view of the administrative point of view of refereeing a game, but also from the point of view of treating the GM as a storyteller whose purpose is to sometimes give the rules a bit of a nudge to make the story go a certain way. What you ultimately get is Vampire: the Masquerade, which while a paradigm shift for its time is still ultimately a D&D ass game that wants to be used for the sake of telling a conventional narrative, so you get a lot of explicit advice to ignore the systems when they don't produce a satisfying story.

Anyway, the point is that in some games the production of a satisfying narrative isn't a primary design goal even when the game itself tries to portray itself as such.

But what you also get is this idea that since the production of a satisfying narrative is seen as the goal of these games (even though it isn't necessarily so), if a game (as in the act of play) doesn't produce a satisfying narrative, then the game itself must be somehow dysfunctional.

A lot of people are willing to blame this on players: the GM isn't doing enough work, a good GM can tell a good story with any system, your players aren't engaging with the game properly, your players are bad if they don't see the point in telling a greater story. When the real culprit might actually be the game system itself, or rather a misalignment between the group's desired fiction and the type of fiction that the game produces. And when players end up misidentifying what is actually an issue their group has with the system as a player issue, you end up with unhappy players fighting against the type of narrative the game itself wants to tell.

I don't think an RPG is dysfunctional even if it doesn't produce a conventionally shaped, satisfying narrative, because while I do think the act of play inevitably ends up creating an emergent narrative, that emergent narrative conforming to conventions of storytelling isn't always the primary goal of play. Conversely, a game whose systems have been built to facilitate the production of a narrative that conforms to conventions of storytelling or emulates some genre well is also hella good. But regardless, there's a lot to be said for playing games the way the games themselves present themselves as.

Your traditional challenge-based dungeon game might not produce a conventionally satisfying narrative and that's okay and it's not your or any of your players' fault. The production of a conventionally satisfying narrative as an emergent function of play was never a design goal when that challenge-based dungeon game was being made.

[gh-0-stcup]

Adding a little to this - the boys are turning the fabric of the universe into swiss cheese this season. They're punching holes left and right, horrifying beings are crossing over, and at least one very powerful being from another universe is now plotting an invasion as a result.

This can't be good for the stability of reality and existence as a whole. If you were God and you were just trying to catch up with your sister, trusting a few chosen dudes to take of the world while you're doing your thing, would this not piss you right the fuck off?

So I've got a tinhat headcanon for Chuck, based on just what I've heard about the last couple seasons.

Chuck's depiction in S11 was legit and truer to the sort of God he was for most of time. He was genuinely on the Winchester's side, despite needing to be distant.

S15 is the boys facing God's wrath. Chuck was fucking with the guys because he got tired of their bullshit. The "I've been controlling every single thing about your life from day 1" and "it's all just literally a show for my personal entertainment" was a lie constructed to really hurt them.

The last time Chuck came down and got involved, he explained very clearly exactly why he pulled away from the world. He wanted a world that could function independently. He wanted his creations to evolve and flourish. In his eyes, trying to fix everything for everyone was preventing this from happening. You can't learn from your mistakes without experiencing consequences.

From this and his conversation with Metatron about why humanity is so wonderful, we can gather Chuck's ultimate goal/desire was growth. The world is not perfect because it was designed to be perfected.

Even though Chuck has grown a bit jaded, he's sentimental towards the Winchester brothers. They fuck up a whole lot, but they always try their hardest to fix it and often succeed. Even their mistakes are generally made out of love or a desire to do good. They remain loyal and devoted to their family and overcome familial drama that even Chuck has failed to sort out.

Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And well...isn't that kinda the whole point?

Chuck was pleased with the boys at the end of this, despite it going against the "planned ending". Castiel, for his part in defying """God's plan""", was ressurected personally by Chuck (apparently more times than he can count).

Chuck gives more support to the boys than any other piece of his creation. He has faith in them, even when they don't have faith in themselves. He makes paths for their survival, stacks the cards in their favour, and directly saves their lives twice.

He does what he can so that they have the tools necessary to continue growing and saving his creation. He's the cosmic cheerleader in the background of their lives.

Another important thing to note about his conversation with Metatron - Chuck likes being Chuck. Prefers it, even. He enjoys being a mediocre writer and dating and having a blog. He wants to enjoy his work. He wants to be a part of his creation, not just its overlord in the clouds.

In S11, Chuck makes the effort to personally explain some of this to Dean. In particular, Chuck's policy on not interfering with problems his creations have the capacity to solve - even if that means people die or get hurt or the world ends.

With Amara we get a little peek into why the world isn't a paradise - the imperfections are part of what makes it beautiful. You can't have freedom without things getting a bit fucked up.

But after his feud with Amara is concluded, are the boys satisfied? Of course not! Any conversation about why Chuck can't be more involved is tossed out the window. And there's zero gratitude for anything Chuck has done for them ever, despite him giving them more than he's given anyone in millenia. Chuck nearly sacrificed his own life for the world, for the boys. He allowed their mother to be ressurected as a reward for their good work.

And what does Chuck get? Dean accusing him of actively causing every bad thing that's ever happened to them, despite most of it being the result of their own choices, and demanding Chuck ressurect everybody.

Now it's completely understandable and valid for Dean to feel this way and his prayer is fucking heartbreaking. But just imagine being Chuck. How irritating would that be?

So, Chuck shows the brothers what the God they imagine him to be would look like. A world centered around them with a sadistic overlord who uses them for entertainment. He takes away the meaning of their choices, their skills, and their victories. He pokes and prods and psychologically tortures them until he's finally (finally) overthrown.

The result is the boys get what they want. A God they chose and raised up themselves. A God who immediately comes to the exact same conclusion Chuck had - it's bad for God to interfere with people's lives. But by this point, it's seen as a good thing.

Their lives continue as normal. They still hunt, they still have to mourn the loss of their loved ones. The only thing that really changes from how things were under Chuck? Dean dies. The ending is bleak and pretty fucking depressing for the boys, considering the magnitude of their final victory.

And what is Chuck's ending? He has to actually be Chuck. A part of his creation, rather than above it. No longer will he hear the pleas and cries and condemnations of his creations. No longer will he be blamed for their bad choices. No longer will he be asked for help with things they could (and should) do on their own. He'll live out his days a mediocre writer who blogs about cats and then he'll die.

Chuck just happens to get exactly what he wanted in S11 and the boys learned the lesson he tried to impart back then in the process.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

Thoughts on the Seraphim, assuming you have any?

one thing i think is quite interesting in egghead, which hasn't necessarily been highlighted prominently by the narrative but which underlies the whole arc, is the similar treatment of the various artificial humans created by vegapunk: the satellites, the seraphim, stussy, and, to a certain extent, kuma.

i think one of the points of egghead is that it's both inhumane and impossible to try and create a person with no individuality or free will. like, it's immoral, but it also just doesn't work. you can't create a person just to serve your own needs and have them not have any personality or identity of their own; it's antithetical to human nature. one piece consistently says that all things strive, and all things dream, and all things want to be free, and that's why vegapunk's creations keep becoming real people in ways that he didn't intend or foresee.

all of the artificial humans in this arc have some degree of identity and individual thought, even those who were specifically designed to be perfectly obedient. we see this when vegapunk is shocked to hear that s-snake is capable of defying orders to help luffy, and when kuma comes to save bonney despite every fact of science saying that he should be brain-dead.

york's betrayal is also consistent with this. vegapunk didn't see it coming, because he created and viewed the satellites as extensions of himself, but they aren't! they're sentient people with, at least, the potential to develop their own dreams and motivations and goals that don't necessarily align with his. that's what being human is.

in that sense, the fact that vegapunk's downfall is brought about by york's self-actualization is quite karmic. her actions are evil and extreme and cause massive collateral damage, of course, but i honestly think they're also pretty understandable when you consider her as a person who was created to only be an extra limb of someone else, trying to define herself. how else was she ever supposed to be free?

this theme is, i think, particularly embodied in stussy, who is clearly undergoing something of an identity crisis. she's caught between loyalty to the purpose she was seemingly created for and loyalty to the identity and relationships she's developed for herself while living out in the world as her own person; she betrays the latter for the former, which is something that clearly pains her greatly, and then loses the former anyways, leaving her with nothing.

the situation that stussy is put in is really very cruel, and honestly, egghead is a fundamentally inhumane place. it's full of people who are expected to not be people. it's frankly no wonder one of them eventually freaked out and turned evil.

vegapunk pressuring sentoumaru into betraying the world government for him is played for comedy, and it's basically implied sentoumaru would've done that anyways, but at the same time it's rather telling of the way vegapunk tends to treat his subordinates and creations: like their own thoughts and feelings, if they have any, don't really matter. vegapunk doesn't ever intend to be cruel, i don't think, but he's certainly thoughtless and inconsiderate, and when you're dealing with human life that can be just as damaging.

this all brings us back to the seraphim. they're weapons of war, yes, but they're also children who had no say in their own creation, and who clearly have at least somewhat more individuality than vegapunk intended them to have (as we see definitively with s-snake). they're effectively slaves of the world government, currently. even when you look at how they were created, they're products of experimentation on a captive child (king), and two of them, s-snake and s-bear, are cloned from former child slaves themselves.

one piece is a story about freedom. i think one way or another, thematically, the seraphim will have to end up free. i can't predict when or how that'll happen, but everything about egghead and the series as a whole indicates that the desire of living things to be free and dream is irrepressible.

[voiice-of-the-soul]

I'm just going to put in my own two cents since every two weeks, people start discoursing on the ''proper'' way to interpret Medic's character (He is definetly the one that causes the most division among people out of the entire cast)

The thing that alot of people forget or simply don't take into consideration is that Medic is not evil in any kind of serious or meaningful way, but in a cartoonish and superficial way, in a fun way. He is a comedic joke character who exists as a parody of the ''evil scientist'' trope while also being a decently fleshed out and interesting character on his own that isn't JUST a parody.

This is why you can have a lot of leeway with his personality and make him capable of bonding and caring for other people while also keeping his violent and malicious traits at the same time. Because the narrative doesn't treat his atrocities with the same gravity that any other media would treat it. In the tf2 universe, violence and killing is inconsequential.

This isn't me saying you can't have more serious takes on him seeing as so many things about the characters are up to interpretation, i always encourage freedom of artistic expression. But you have to aknowledge that's purely a creation of your own making and not the way he is actually presented in the text or source material. Which still doesn't make those interpretations ''wrong'', they are just different.

I put heavy emphasis on that because i dislike the idea that one specific vision of a character is inferior for any reason and i think we should encourage people to think for themselves and simply have fun with these characters rather than making them feel stupid for having ideas that diverge from our own.

[saintsenara]

If Voldemort had repented and felt remorse like Harry offered him, what exactly would have happened to him? Would his soul have been healed and he forgiven? I mean, I’m pretty sure he would definitely be thrown into Azkaban for life, but would he be normal again? Like, no longer that bald, no-nose snake face creep and his soul intact.

thank you very much for the ask, @hollyparker! i can think of no question more suitable for this season of allhallowtide.

canon is clear that genuine remorse would have resulted in the fissures in voldemort's soul being healed:

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" Ron asked. "Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful." "Why? How do you do it?" asked Harry.  "Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

so, the only thing necessary to trigger the healing of the soul is the feeling of remorse. there's no need to perform any sort of public penance, nor even to actually say out loud that you're sorry. you just need to be sorry, and the slate of your soul is wiped clean.

[that is - as we'll come to below - your salvation is achieved by faith alone, rather than by works and rituals...]

so yes, voldemort would be forgiven. but only in the theological - rather than the psychological, social, or legal - sense of the word.

his victims wouldn't suddenly be expected to be fine with him, his slate wouldn't be wiped clean in the eyes of the wizarding legal system, and he would still be expected to be punished for what he'd done. if he survives putting his soul back together, instead of dying on the spot, he's definitely looking at life in azkaban - if not a capital sentence - and he'd deserve it. and if he dies, he's still going to be remembered as an evil man, rather than the history of his crimes being erased by his deathbed repentance. he would simply rot in azkaban and/or die with an intact soul.

but what about with an intact appearance?

canon doesn't ever discuss what would happen to voldemort's body if he healed his soul, and either option - that his appearance would revert or that it wouldn't - is justifiable. but my view is certainly that healing his soul would trigger the transformation of his appearance.

[i don't have a preference on whether this means he would revert to the body he had when he first split his soul - that is, his appearance would be as it was when he was sixteen - or if he'd be his canonical age, just with a human face. either makes one hell of a premise for a fic.]

voldemort's physical degradation is directly caused by making horcruxes - right down to the very first time he splits his soul - and it accelerates as he goes beyond the norms of even this darkest of magic. the version of him which visits hepzibah smith - who has made two horcruxes: the diary and the ring - is very thin, very pale, and heavily implied to look quite sickly, and he also has a red gleam in his eyes. the version who comes to see dumbledore for a job interview - who has made four or five horcruxes: the diary, the ring, the cup, the diadem, and possibly the locket - is unnaturally pale, has skin which looks like melted wax, has eyes which are starting to look permanently bloodshot, and [much to harry's disappointment] is no longer good-looking. creating harry - rather than his resurrection ritual - is what seems to cause his looks to degrade further, since the voldemort of philosopher's stone is described facially in identical ways to the voldemort of goblet of fire, although the creation of nagini probably makes these features even more horrifying.

as a narrative device, voldemort's physical changes has an enormous amount in common with the gradual disfigurement of the portrait in the picture of dorian gray.

in both texts, damage visited upon the soul - and, indeed, damage visited upon the soul in pursuit of immortality - is visited upon the face [although in dorian's case, this damage is confined to the portrait, while his flesh-and-blood self lives behind a mask of false youth and beauty]. at the end of the novel, dorian - horrified at the portrait's appearance - resolves to mend his ways, but only does so half-heartedly [by deciding that not seducing a woman he feels nothing for is enough to cancel out murder and driving two people to suicide], which causes no change to the portrait. in a fit of rage, he destroys the portrait rather than attempting true repentance. this kills him, and when his body is discovered his appearance is the monstrous one of the painting. that is, he - like voldemort - finally has to wear the damage to his soul on his face.

from which we can reasonably suppose that the impact of true repentance on the soul would reflect similarly on the face. voldemort being returned to his former humanity - then - would be the proof [since, as we've seen, he wouldn't need to prove his remorse through works or words] that his repentance was genuine and he had - again, only in the theological sense of the word - been forgiven.

but he's still going to be thrown in azkaban, or hurled through the veil, or die on the spot even if he's pretty again. it doesn't change anything about what he's done on earth.

what it changes is his experience in the afterlife.

the text approaches the possibility of voldemort's remorse very interestingly. by which i mean, it presents it not just as a purgative act, but as a quasi-baptismal one.

the wizarding world canonically has two stable spheres of existence - life and afterlife. there's no suggestion in canon that this afterlife attaches a moral price to admission - that is, it doesn't seem to function as [the christian] heaven, and nor does there seem to be an in-universe version of [the christian] hell - but it does require something: an intact soul.

in between these two spheres is a liminal space - the theshold between life and death which appears to harry as king's cross. this threshold exists so that the newly dead [those who aren't harry, whose experience is unique, at least] can make a choice - to move on to the afterlife or to return to the sphere of the living as a ghost.

there's some implication in canon that it takes some people longer to accept the need to move on to the afterlife than others - and so there's some sense of the threshold serving a similar purpose to purgatory, and serving as an intermediate space in which an intact soul sheds all the baggage it's carried with it from life before it settles happily into death.

but in voldemort's case, it represents something very different... limbo.

and, specifically, the limbo of infants.

this term refers to the permanent - rather than liminal - sphere in which the souls of unbaptised babies linger, unable - since they've never been cleansed of original sin via baptism, but also haven't committed any sins of their own [since, y'know, they're babies] - either to access heaven or to be condemned to hell.

within the metaphysics of canon, then, voldemort's mutilation of his soul has a similar impact to the state of unbaptism. it prevents him from moving across the threshold between life and death, thus causing him to get stuck forever - in a baby-like form! - in the liminal space of king's cross.

and this is fascinating.

as deathly hallows reaches its climax, the themes and tropes the doylist narrative draws upon are overtly christian. harry freely chooses to die for the salvation of the world, rises again from the dead, and then protects anyone who believes in him from coming to harm at voldemort's hands with the supernatural force of his love. numerous other characters have arcs in the final book which have similarly christian overtones - lily as the virgin mary [who crushes the serpent's head, before her son defeats him entirely], dumbledore as john the baptist [who teaches and guides harry-as-christ, but is subordinate to him in greatness], and ron as st peter [who abandons harry-as-christ and then returns to him].

but - crucially - its christian tropes are not simply christian. they are protestant.

and voldemort - as much as his christian-literature archetype is satan [hence all the snake imagery] - is approached by the text, especially when it comes to the text's treatment of his horcruxes, with christian allegories which are catholic.

the horcruxes are relics, and his belief that they - rather than faith in the power of love as the text understands it - will save him is delusional. jkr has heavily implied in several interviews that they are created via a cannibalistic ritual - which calls to mind the doctrine of transubstantiation in the catholic eucharist. there are seven of them, just as there are seven sacraments in the catholic church, since voldemort believes seven to be the most powerful magical number - something he's wrong about, since the seven-fold power of his horcruxes is nothing in the face of harry's faith in the trinity of the hallows. and his clinging to them condemns him to a post-death state which calls the limbo of infants - which, while not official catholic doctrine, is a hypothetical concept only catholic theology entertains; all mainstream protestant and orthodox denominations reject it entirely - to mind.

it's a really interesting example of what both the doylist and watsonian texts believe him to have transgressed through the creation of horcruxes.

because, of course, he's not condemned to limbo for the sin of murder, he's condemned to it because he puts his faith in something other than faith [or love] alone.

[katrinasis]

happy 413 homestuck number day etc etc now look. the interesting thing about spades slick is that he alone out of all the versions of jack noir managed to develop emotionally beyond “born to kill universe is a fuck 19383727 kids dead” and “if i just murder enough people maybe i can satiate my hatred for all creation and utter boredom with reality.” now im not saying slick isn’t a ultra violent mass murderer because he is. the difference is slick has actual purpose in life beyond wanting to mindlessly kill people for the shits and giggles— he made a fucking city! he partook in creation despite the fact that he’s supposed to be diametrically opposed to it! he’s got a crew to run and needlessly complex heists to plan! spade slick avoids bec noir’s ennui and eventual exhaustion by actually doing something with his life, by actually working towards something productive rather than just trying to subsist off the temporary catharsis of mass murder forever. he is the most actualized jack noir in the sense that he is the only on to go beyond his base instincts and actually create something of value for once.

and the tragedy is that it’s all for nothing. every true spades slick scholar knows the line “nothing left to lose, or live for” but i think it’s worth unpacking what this actually implies— that being, slick is actively trying to end his life in cascade rather than just wanting to settle his score with sn0wman and not caring about the consequences. everything he has ever done has just been part of an LE-typical long con to get all his friends killed, get him into the exile vault, get him to doc scratch, and eventually put him into a position where he has absolutely nothing left and into a headspace where he thinks he might as well be dead anyway. he did literally everything he could have done right as part of the game— helped the players, rebuilt society, aided creation— and yet in the end was still fucked over harder than anyone has ever been fucked over before or since. sorry slick you’re going to be replaced with the version of you with no emotional development at all. sorry slick. but after all, who would ever mourn a jack noir?

tl;dr spades slick is the most tragic character in all of homestuck. WV is a close second but only because he was a grown ass man and a traumatized war veteran and then the narrative decided to make him davekat’s dog

[familyabolisher]

also goddd when we talk about texts as "political" i wish we could talk more about the actual material conditions that give rise to them / facilitate their creation & distribution etc rather than like, back and forthing about the internal logics and discourses of a narrative. I love internal discourse but when the actual q is "is this political" we should so clearly be talking about material locality & not "when it says empire does it really mean Empire 😯"

[madmonksandmaenads]

Now, I'm not very familiar with Homestuck, but I overhear a lot of conversation about its minutia. There are lots of conversations about HS', I have heard about classpects, multiverse games, troll biology, etc, but I don't have a clear idea what the actual themes of the work are.

It's a creation myth yes? A grand narrative about the birth of a world, complete with primordial evils and children in strange lands, initiated through death to divine power. What is this met to say about our own world? Would you(hypothetical Homestuck fan) consider the work Gnostic in character? Is the takeaway here that reality is all the result of an uncaring and deeply flawed mechanical demiurge(Sburb) and orchestrated by childish and occassionaly deeply evil archons(the players)? Should we try to reach past the imperfection of this world and stop trying to engage with the rules of this cruel world and instead seek out loopholes? Or perhaps is it more Hermetic? Does it see the world as a craft of artifice, made by humans who are not perfect but aspire towards a greater good? Does it prompt the reader to create their own more perfect world? Homestuck is a massive text, it a vast communication from an artist, what is being communicated? I'll admit one of the reasons I haven't read Homestuck is I don't see it discussed as a poetical work. I want to know what makes it beautiful, about what message is straining through the it's pulpy medium. I grew up on schlocky sci-fi, the alien sex politics, the cosmic shenanigans, these are all rather pedestrian for me. I got bored of these around the same time I stopped reading Piers Anthony but I recognize Homestuck is an important modern work, and it feels baffling to me that I have no idea what its actual philosophy is. There must be more to it than titillating science fiction, and funny message logs. What is it from Homestuck that you carry with you into the trials of your day to day existence?

[transmutationisms]

I read your review of Poor Things and I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the section in Alexandria? It was horrifically executed on many levels but narratively, that part of the film is about Bella learning about class structure. She rebels against the cruelty of society through charity then by working as a prostitute, during which time she has cruelty inflicted upon her instead. Finally, she realizes that God’s creation of her was ultimately cruel, and then she runs away with her ex-husband-father only to realize that her prior self-mother was fundamentally characterized by cruelty, especially to her “lessers.” She then decides once again that she does not want to be cruel, but then she achieves this by taking God’s place as the doctor-patriarch and ruling his household with a new pet goat. The entire film is also about Bella learning about feminism: the arbitrary oppression of women is not only nonsensical, it’s bad! But then the ending has her reproduce almost all those power structures and cruelty she claims to reject, and has the unfortunate consequence of positioning her as ultimately equally cruel/callous as God, the guy she meets on the boat who shows her all the starving people, and her former self-mother, etc. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on why this is or like, what the director’s message was beyond self-contradiction and taking cheap shots at starving people?

so i would quibble a bit with the idea that bella's experience in the maison-close is exclusively or even primarily portraying sex-for-pay as a site of cruelty. i think it's more depicting paid sex as work, and work as unpleasant and repressive, and that's why the maison is the site where bella gets involved in socialist politics—if moral philosophy is the arena by which she responds to the injustice of the poverty in alexandria, then labour politics plays the analogous role where the maison is concerned. her problems there aren't inherently with the idea of being paid for sex, but with specific elements of the work arrangement (eg, she suggests that the women should choose their clients, rather than vice versa). ofc she has some customers who are cruel or thoughtless or rude, but i didn't read the film as suggesting that was universal to sex work, and the effect of the position is more to demystify sex, for bella, than to convert it into being purely a site of trauma or misery. now i don't think this film offers a particularly blistering or deep analysis of sex work or socialism or wage labour, dgmw, but i do think the function of the maison is different narratively to that of the alexandria section.

anyway to answer your actual question: yeah so this is really my central gripe with the film. lanthimos (slash his screenwriter tony mcnamara) spends much of the film gesturing toward bella's growing awareness of several hierarchical structures that other characters take for granted: the uneven nature of the parent/child relationship (god took her body and created her without asking); class stratification (alexandria); the 'civilisation' of individuals and societies via education and bio-alteration (bella's talk about 'improving' herself; her 'progression' from essentially a pleasure-seeking child to an educated and 'articulate' adult). these three dimensions often overlap (eg, the conflation of 'childishness' with lack of education with inability to behave in 'high society'), though, most overtly, it's in that third one that we can see how these notions of improvement and biological melioration speak to discourses about the 'progress' and 'regress' of whole societies and peoples, and voluntarist ideas about how human alteration of biology (namely, our own) might produce people, and therefore societies, that are better or worse on some metric: beauty, fitness, intelligence, morality, longevity, &c. this is why i keep saying that like.... this film is about eugenics djkdjsk.

the issue with the alexandria section to me is, first, it's like 2 minutes (processed in the hollywood yellow filter) where the abject poverty of other people is a life lesson for bella. we're not asking any questions like, how is that poverty produced, and might it have anything to do with the ship bella is on or the fantastical lisbon she left or the comparative wealth of paris and london...? secondly, everything that the film thinks it's doing for the entire runtime by having bella grapple with learning about cruelty, and misery, and the kinds of received social truths that lanthimos is able to problematise through her eyes because she's literally tabula rasa—all of that is just so negated by having an ending in which she bio-engineers her shitty ex-husband, played as a triumphant moment. i don't even inherently have an issue with the actual plot point; certainly she has motive, and narratively it could have worked if it were framed as what it is: bella ascending to the powerful position in the oppressive system that created her, and using her status to enact cruelty against someone who 'deserves' it—ie, leveraging her class and race within the existing social forms rather than continuing to question or challenge them. if that ending were played as a tragedy, or a bleak satire, it would at least be making A Point. but it's not even, because it's just framed as deserved comeuppance for this guy we were introduced to in the 11th hour as a scumbag, so it's psychologically beneficial for bella actually to do the sci-fi surgery to him that literally reduces him to what's framed as a lower life form. unserious

[forestfiresandfics]

Tragedies

Is third life a tragedy? In literary terms, a tragedy is a specific plot line with its own requirements. It’s not what we think of as a tragedy in the common sense—that is a story with a sad ending. Not all stories with a sad ending are tragedies. 

What distinguishes a tragedy is the protagonists failure. The plot of a tragedy is one where the main character makes choices that will ultimately lead to their downfall. Macbeth pisses off the one person who can kill him, Frankenstein abandons his creation and it becomes resentful, Jason cheats on his sorceress wife and then surprise pikachu face when Medea gets her revenge. It’s the result of an imperfect protagonist, often villain protags, but also anti-heroes or byronic heroes. Really, anyone who has flaws, which is everyone except the paragon archetype. 3rd life is full of imperfect characters making mistakes constantly. But do those mistakes dead to the their own downfall? 

I’ve defined the protagonists before, but for the purpose of this discussion, I want to talk about Grian and Scar separately, since two characters cannot share the same tragedy (it’s their own mistake after all). There are a couple other characters I want to talk about as well, as you might imagine. So what are Grian and Scar’s downfalls? Everyone in 3rd life has one, so what is theirs? For Scar, the answer seems to follow a tragic trope quite solidly, his death is his downfall. But did his mistakes lead him there? Answer: not really! Scar’s greatest ‘mistake’ is his betrayal of his partner. But his death isn’t the result of that. In fact, when he offered his life in apology, Grian doesn’t take it. Scar’s death is actually the result of the two of them being back on better terms. Their relationship can never be what it once was, but they go out crying and laughing and talking about how much fun they had. Scar’s mistakes don’t lead to his death. His redemption does. 

What about Grian? Where is his downfall? There are three moments that could be considered his downfall, being betrayed, killing his partner, and his own death. I think the betrayal is simply the lead up to the real fall, and I think that killing Scar is the real fall—with the suicide being the result of that fall. Do his actions lead him to that conclusion? Answer: sorta? You could argue that his mistake really was getting close to anyone in the first place. He knew he would have to finish the game, so he shouldn’t have let himself get attached to anyone. But his actions aren’t really “mistakes” in the tragic sense, rather, he simply follows the rules of the narrative. Grian more than anyone is simply passively following the plot, rather than being an active member in it. The only part that wasn’t in the plan was having to kill a friend—not just a competitor. So this one is arguable.

Now I talk about Scar and Grian a lot in these discussions of narrative structure, and because as the protagonists, theirs is the POV you are expected to make these assessments from (a tragedy is inherently about the main character, after all. If an antagonist falls, that’s simply comeuppance). But I do still want to talk about the primary antagonist: Ren. And it’s because his storyline really is a perfect tragedy. He starts out just trying to survive, he sets up a business, tries to gather resources and alliances that way, gets dragged along by Martyn who has to show him how to survive. But as things start going well for him, he gets the idea to expand. He has lots of allies now, lots of supplies, why not get everyone in on this? Ren’s hubris leads him to splitting the server in two, and though at first they dominate the fight, each battle they lose a little bit more. His actions have brought once-enemies together all for the sake of defeating him, and he is killed by the person he was trying to protect himself from. His mistake was forcing the partnerships into larger alliances, and it lead directly to his downfall—his death and the death of his kingdom. It’s a very neat and tidy tragedy.

The other notable tragedy is Scott’s. His mistake comes quite late, and his downfall comes immediately after. He does well, plays it smart all the way up until Jimmy dies. And then he loses his head a little. Goes after revenge over anything else. He doesn’t wait for other allies to join him, doesn’t stick with the group as they are gearing up for a larger fight. No, he simply goes to kill Skizz on his own (with Joel, who happened to be there), and then gets killed alone and surrounded. His mistake was simple—going for revenge instead of working with the alliance. But It gets worse when you consider his pact with Cleo. He hadn’t wanted to leave his partner, but he did have a plan B if anything ever happened. And instead of leaning on that plan B, he gets himself killed for revenge. And Cleo ends up dying alone too, doing something similar. So with Scott, we see a more subtle tragedy. 

There are a few more individual POVs that have tragedies included too. But more are just sad. Impulse playing the field, making everyone question where his loyalties are, only to then prove to be strongly loyal to his original alliance—and then HE is the one betrayed? What are heartache. BigB relying on agreements made earlier, before the war, and ending up with an audience as he gets killed instead? Devastating. But not tragedies in the strict sense. 

And similarly, neither is the cactus ring a capital T Tragedy. No one’s mistakes lead them there. Their love and their loyalty did. They overcame everything together, and ended up at the end together. The fact that no matter what they did, this couldn’t be avoided, that this was ordained, that it was fate. That is what makes the cactus ring so heartfelt. They did everything right, at least in the end, and they still ended up here, in a bloody duel to the death. 

Masterlist

By the way, anyone can add to this series if you want! Tag it 3rd life literary analysis, and the one rule is you gotta treat it like a proper analysis haha

[stackslip]

I'm curious, at the point where you're at in FMA 03, have you met Dante yet? I'm curious at what you think of her.

late but now that i'm done: i adore her. like, she could have benefited from a few more episodes' worth of development (like envy, really, and many other aspects of the ending that were clearly VERY rushed for time), but i fucking *love* what we got of her. i find her a thousand times more compelling and thematically appropriate an antagonist than father is.

the first thing i enjoy about her is that she is, fundamentally, a human. she claims to have surpassed humanity and looks down on them, but she is a real human person who just happens to have used alchemy to extend her own life, and the process costs not only her but everyone! she isn't a supernatural being, and in fact her bodies are all extremely fragile even outside of the whole rotting thing. what she is is really the ultimate alchemist: someone who really does see the world and everyone within it as material to be analysed, decomposed, and recomposed to her will. someone who dehumanizes others so profoundly they are just tools to her, things to be manipulated or destroyed or remodeled at her will, and who's fundamentally baffled when they react as people. but outside of being that good an alchemist, she's also just....... human. she's scared, and petty, and honestly a bit cringe and old-fashioned. she's cunning and used to manipulating people and movements, but she's good in that human, predatory and slimy way rather than as an inhuman force of evil. her motives too are human! she wants to keep living. she claims to be above it all but she is really just another human, among many MANY in the show, who struggle with the concept of dying and letting go of an idealized life. she isn't special among them! she isn't particularly unique in her motivation! she's one of a dozen characters of fma 03 who cannot cope with death as a part of life.

the second thing i enjoy is, how despite her manipulations and how she is, in essence, responsible for everything the brothers have been through (they wear her mark without knowing it for most of their life for fuck's sake!) she is not actually the only one with agency in the world, and while she pushes amestrian towards its genocidal policies the show makes it very very clear clear that she is not solely responsible for them, and that excising her does not suddenly make everything better or end racism or all that fucking nonsense lmfao, it's so clear that really, dante has been taking advantage of existing prejudices and amestris's own imperialist ambitions for her own gain. amestrians support the genocides and wars! it brings them resources, and national pride, and racial superiority! it strengthens the might of state alchemists! again what dante is is first and foremost a manipulator. the homonculi are all lost, and hollow, and desperate OR they are her own creations from past lovers and children she views as her property and lies to. they are inhuman and yet genuinely intimidated by her. she knows what buttons to press. dante doesn't implant or create things in others, she takes advantage of what is there and remolds it to her desire! equivalent exchange if you will :)))

third reason is: again. she is slimy. she is cringe. she is predatory but in a weird flailing way. she is so obviously a predator, and a very much older woman who knows nothing about the times and thinks she's still hot shit. she is sloppy at times in her handiwork. she is deeply, unbelievably petty. she is so awful it becomes campy. she throws a baby in the air for fun and experiments. she is so mad hoheinheim got himself a wife she uses the wife's homonculus for fun. she is EXCEEDINGLY creepy about rose and sexualizes and exoticizes her openly in a way that feels.... genuinely real and pathetic and racist (she is racist tbc, the narrative is v clear about it and isn't doing this for fun points). i think there need to be more evil girlfailure villains who aren't like just, hot sex machines but are this kind of realistic kind of everyday awful and evil.

fourth reason is that she's an excellent foil to a number of characters, starting with hoheinheim obviously and his own fucked up actions, and his own predatory nature towards younger women (and btw just like.... the little we get of their relationship and interactions has my head spinning, it's so good and juicy) and refusal to accept death until he does. but also edward--she isn't just trying to convince him bc he's hoheinheim's son and she's a fucking creepy, but bc again and again the narrative has shown that ed IS teethering on the edge of morality with his alchemy, that his curiosity and drive to prove he CAN do these incredible things deemed impossible, that he IS no ordinary alchemist and his love for al can lead him to dark places. he isn't dante, not yet! he turns away from her values! but had dante played her cards a bit better, maybe he could have been. and of course there's the izumi parallel too: izumi, dante's student who flees her master because there's something wrong with that woman; who grieves her son and tries to bring him back and is stuck with the homonculus that resulted--where dante tried to resurrect her son and used him as a tool. and all those who committed human transmutation in the name of bringing back lost loved ones, when pride and greed are said to be based on dante's former lovers she killed and controlled. did she ever really love them? was her first transmutation genuinely out of grief? when did she lose sight of the common humanity at the core of these other people? was it from the start, or did she lose it gradually as her soul rotted with her bodies?

i think that's also one of the most fascinating aspects of dante. she is, for all intents and purposes, a living corpse who refuses to die and move on. a zombie. in a show full of ghosts and people who are unable to die or move on, in a show about how idealizing the past and trying to freeze it or recreate a pitch perfect version of it stops you from seeing the love and possibilities right in front of your nose. and nowhere is that seen more than in dante: whose bodies rot faster and faster and yet she keeps believing she can fix it. she can use a thousand more lives to let her use a body for a few more months. why should she have to die and move on? why can't the world just stop for her? it should. everyone in fma 2003 keeps trying to repeat the past, to start up the same old cycles, to drag the long dead and buried kicking and screaming into the present. dante literally lives in a city so old and forgotten people have forgotten its existence and that it is the foundation on which central is built. she drags the bones of the homonculi's former selves to threaten them. she tries to immediately start up a relationship with her ex's son, believing she can remodel him to her liking. she takes and she takes and she takes. she has forgotten that one is all and all is one and that all struggles are connected, that the old must give to the new, that you cannot make the same mistakes over and over and get what you want whenever. she is rotten inside and out. i think it's fitting then, that she isn't killed by ed or al's hand, but that she simply storms off mad when things don't go according to plan (because she is just that petty) and that she is killed by the rebound of her own actions of untethering gluttony. she has so thoroughly dehumanized others, literally and figuratively, that she gets swallowed by the results of it, and dies the same pathetic death that the priest did in episode 2, and marcoh did, and many others that she sent gluttony to clean up.

like gd i do wish we could have gotten another full ten eps of her. but i'm also fine with her as she is. she sucks so bad. she's so delicious to dive into, the layers of her fucked up ness.

[connorsnothereeither]

OH I realised today that I never actually explained the “Ulysses was originally a rabbit” joke… so here’s that explanation/behind the scenes on his character creation lol-

When I was first invited to join Fable as a cast member and create my own character for the world, I spent some time spitballing ideas. All the new cast were given a lot of wiggle room to build our little guys, and so I came up with 3 concept character pitches, which each could have explored different areas of the server’s lore that we hadn’t gotten a huge glimpse into in the first 2 seasons:

Character #1 was the aforementioned rabbit, named Tamlin! Although maybe rabbit isn’t quite accurate, he was a Jackalope hybrid. He was the most developed of the pitches I came up with, and I think I described him as “Alice in Wonderland’s White Rabbit meets Celtic Mythology/the Fae”. He would have been more Nature-Fam (specifically c!Jamie) adjacent, being a rabbit hybrid created by Deltavera, as a sort of assistant/companion. Narratively he functioned almost as a foil to c!Ven, being an assistant to Delta rather than Fable. He would have been driven mad by Fable to some extent after Delta’s death (we hadn’t decided on how exactly, at that point in time) and leaned hard into the Wonderland tea/madness/whimsical aspect. His purpose story-wise would have been to help c!Jamie learn about Deltavera over time, both of them unlocking pieces of the past together in scattered fragments, ending with Tamlin getting all of his memories back.

Character #2 was a piglin, I think? Or at the very least some kind of Nether Hybrid. They would have been a Nether soldier that fully deserted both sides of the war, and was living undercover in the Overworld as a fugitive while trying to fend off zombification. His working name was “Asmodius” or “Azzy”, and a lot of his characterisation and the idea of his family coming with him was eventually folded directly into the Tuskly’s as NPC’s!

Character #3 was an unnamed Telchin. He was originally solely a warrior, inspired by the Iliad, rather than the Odyssey, specifically Prince Hector of Troy. A soldier who had spent decades fighting and being hardened and calloused only to defend a city that was always doomed to fall. I didn’t want to interfere with the scientist side of the Telchin, since that was very much Metta and Ocie’s thing, so I intentionally tried to steer clear of that, and lean hard into the war-time aspect of the telchin, and the idea of the rest of society collapsing while the scientists worked on the projects.

In the end, there was a bunch of reasons the characters didn’t pan out.

Tamlin was ultimately just not narratively necessary? c!Jamie could find out most of those things on his own, and as Deltavera was developed into the more lovable “I only talk to animals” loner, it felt weird for him to have an assistant. Logistically it would also have been difficult for me to act as both Tamlin and Delta in any cutscenes lmao. As much as I liked the wacky Mad Hatter rabbit hybrid vibes, it also made him overlap just a little too much with what c!Haley had become. Certain elements were reused for Ulysses though, like the fragmented memories, and the “tea obsession” was changed to the “kelp obsession” at the beginning of the season, etc.

Asmodius just wasn’t as developed as a character, and I didn’t think he could hold water for the whole season. Not to mention Athena and Ocie were both expanding on the Nether aspect of the world though c!Athena and Oscar’s backstory, and I didn’t think I was bringing anything new enough that fully justified his existence as a character beyond the initial concept (hence why it was given to the Tuskly’s, specifically Wilkins, since at the time there was only ever going to be him as the only Tuskly).

I actually think it was Heyhay that approached me about expanding the Telchin idea? Maybe? It was a while ago now. I was really excited to be given the invite to take part in the established scientist/project lore that had been developed in s2, because it was something they’d really been building up, basically with the pitch of “hey… you like horror stuff right? *points at Brink* We have some horrors to witness” lol. I got to really go all in on the Frankenstein meets Greek Mythology angle, and finding a way to transition someone from a soldier to a scientist was what led to the medic/doctor angle, and examining what drives a once person to do the things Ulysses did, and experiment on a god they worshipped. The letter of regret about Project Leviathan was the first time I really got a feel for writing Ulysses as a character, and I instantly became very attached. Like, as much as the other ideas for him would have been fun, I would not trade the character he became and the development of him behind the scenes for the world, he is the best character outcome I could have hoped for when joining Fable ✨

[luna-rainbow]

Hi! I don't know if you have already read this Bucky's "analysis": https://www.tumblr.com/dreadnought-dear-captain/651270983166132224/cw-this-essay-is-about-about-trauma-including?source=share

I find it absurd that a person who claims to be knowledgeable in the psychological area and also to have lived through traumatic experiences themselves, can say that the depiction of therapy in TFATWS is OK and that it is "right" or "healthy" for Bucky to "take responsibility" for something he had no agency in. This is one of the many aspects that seem to me to be terribly wrong.

I'd be very grateful if you could share your opinion.

Sorry for the late reply, life’s been really hectic lately!

I vaguely remember reading this back in 2021. I don’t know if I ever got through the whole thing. I’m not trained in psychology so I can’t pretend to be any sort of expert.

There are some points I agree with, particularly to the headcanon that Bucky is actually very resilient rather than “fragile” — he has to be, to have lasted that long under Hydra, retained most of his innate willingness for good, and for Hydra to have been forced to use the methods they did to break him. While we’re on this topic, it’s not uncommon that people who leave abusive situations go through a period of “fragility” or being more open with expressing their vulnerability, because they’ve finally exited survival mode. I’m always soft for recovery fics where Bucky clearly has that stubborn resilient streak but also lets himself be vulnerable in front of someone he trusts.

It's not the first time that a self-proclaimed psychologist has tried to justify Bucky's arc in TFATWS with reclamation of agency (I feel like I've read a similar essay from someone else). My problem with these analyses has always been - Bucky is not a real patient, he's a fictional creation, therefore any talk about his psychology and in particular internal consistency can only be as good as the narrative. When you have a narrative that is as clunky as TFATWS, where it clearly made no attempt to consider Bucky's past, character, and motivations in many of the choices he made, it's ridiculous to examine this Bucky as though the writer had intended him to be a study of trauma recovery. It's like trying to debate the safest speed the Titan submersible should have descended at, when the real problem is that it's a creaking tin can from the get-go.

The problem with the reclamation of agency argument is the same problem with his healing arc. Just as Bucky already reclaimed his humanity and social connections by the support he got from the Wakandans, Bucky also already reclaimed his agency in the preceding movies. Are we forgetting his first act of disobedience to his handlers in pulling Steve out from the river instead of finishing his mission? Past that, he spent two years living a crime free and reasonably cosy life. He had a roof over his head, he was dressed clean and groomed, he was going out and conversing politely with shopkeepers, his apartment was sparsely furnished but lived in. All of these took a series of careful choices from someone who not only was forced to live with no agency for 70 years, but also had no identity, no documents, no money, and likely very little familiarity with this new world he's woken up to. He also made major choices that directly impacted the world around him, whether it was to divulge the location of the other Winter Soldiers, or joining Steve against the other Avengers, or choosing to go back to cryo, or accepting T'Challa's recruitment to go back onto the battlefield. He was not forced in any of these choices, and he had a lot to lose in each of them, but he still made the choice -- and the people around him, Steve and T'Challa, allowed him to make that call.

So yes, theoretically, if Bucky was a real patient, of course agency is a major theme in his recovery and a way to redirect away from overwhelming helplessness (although...Bucky's never acted as though he falls comfortably onto learned helplessness; again, the first thing we see him do as soon as he recalls any inkling of his past is to take agency into his own hands). But narratively? This is just regressing Bucky back to...oh, I don't know, early post-CATWS and retreading the recovery path he had already demonstrated.

And sure, trauma recovery is something that happens over a long period of time and people can vacillate between well-adjusted and emotional wreck, and we can argue given the events of Endgame, there's good reason for Bucky to have rollercoasted to an emotional slump by TFATWS. But - once again - this is a fictional construct, and if you took a step back and looked at the narrative as a whole instead of "Bucky should be allowed to make bad choices because he's mentally ill", there is no character justification for why Bucky would break Zemo out of jail or fight with Wakanda, very borderline justification for why Bucky would confuse the shield for his friendship with Steve, and minimal justification for why Bucky would crash Sam's mission in the first place. Not to mention the 20 things that doesn't make sense about the Flagsmashers and post-Blip world, and what authority Sam and Bucky were even working under. If the overarching narrative doesn't make sense, what even is the use of trying to rationalise his actions in a psychological sense?

As to your specific point about "the depiction of therapy in TFATWS is OK and that it is "right" or "healthy" for Bucky to "take responsibility" for something he had no agency in" - I'm not sure how it's argued in the original essay because I don't want to read the whole thing, but this feels like a really weird therapeutic strategy. If we equate Bucky's situation to rape - which we probably can after they inserted the stomach turning scene of Zemo selling Bucky to Selby - I'd like to know which therapist would sit with their rape victim and say it's "right and healthy" for them to take responsibility for the rape, ie the situation during which Bucky had no control over his identity or wishes. From what I've seen and read of victims in recovery, whether that's as survivors of abuse or rape or homocide, they find solace in taking control of the emotions they are left with in recovery -- i.e. the grief or rage or indignation, and repurposing that into a sense of mission, such as starting victim help groups or campaigning for policy change or fighting to get the criminals arrested. But again, that's not reclaiming the situation as something they had "responsibility" for, but rather to make the best with their experience and being a safety net for others. But that hadn't been what Bucky's therapy was about, Raynor was basically implying Bucky was dangerous and out of control and needs to make amends to prove himself stable. It wasn't about unravelling what Bucky feels about the long helpless 70 years of imprisonment and redirecting it to a sense of purpose, it was to make Bucky "pay back" the other victims...as a parole condition to make him suitable for society.

So no, it was not an appropriate therapeutic intervention, because at no point did it have Bucky's best interest at heart, nor - based on Sebastian's portrayal - did it have Bucky's buy-in. And as I've always said, it was also incredibly unfair to the other victims on the receiving end of Bucky's unexpected appearance and "amends" without any sort of neutral mediator.