#or at least gained through osmosis

[ourskiesaboveus]

@just-some-guy-joust

alright i know this is a bit after the poll (this week was Hectic) but. i loved the tournament a bunch even though i didn't have time to make good propaganda for my boy matt

like. i didn't know who whole or brian were before this tournament but now i have spent way too long playing yuppie psycho (considering that poll came out like a week before finals and also that. i can't do any of the puzzles) and have so much cccc brainrot. all the participating blorbos were too powerful. amazing competition

anyway have a quick comic about the results :)

cw gun pointed at viewer

good luck to sasha as she bravely forges forward in the some guy semifinals

[piningpercussionist]

You're breaking into Ramsden Park? In Yorkville? Are you guys rich enough and white enough to get away with that?

... Definitely not rich, no.

Eh, I'm not particularly worried about it I guess. I'd be more concerned, but what with Ramona's bag and ability to travel subspace, I think we'll be fine.

'Sides, so long as the guys they send for us don't have guns or something, we could take 'em. Ramona has that big ass hammer and Scott's still the best fighter in the province. Or he should be, anyway.

And I can hold my own just fine- I'll even bring a pair of drumsticks or something. Probably unnecessary, since again, Ramona will have her goodie bag right there, but if it's any comfort at all...

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

why do u think people r so ashamed of loving danron??

I mean, honestly, there's a lot of reasons, which makes it kind of complicated to tackle. I can list out a few from the top of my head, based on personal experience Feeling the shame and observation of other fans

•The problematic content in the games themselves. People feel embarrassed to like the other parts of the game because of the amount of bigoted moments (and sometimes whole characters) within these games. They don't want people to think they like those parts too, so they couch their appreciation in embarrassment.

•The reputation of the fanbase. On tumblr at least, things have normalized significantly and I find this fandom a very chill place to be. But the danganronpa fandom at its peak (2012-2016ish) was RABID. Like any major tumblr fandom, there was tons of drama, discourse, and toxic fan behaviour, but DR was genuinely on another level. This is especially true because of the young average age of members of the fandom at the time. Even though thats not generally true anymore on tumblr, this fandom still has that reputation to non-fans, and so people don't want to be associated with it.

•Cringe culture. At its peak, the DR fandom on tumblr was made mostly of teens, especially younger teens. I think the earnest way young teens participate in fandom led to it being seen as cringe, just like many other fandoms. Also, even outside of its problematic content, DR's plot can be weird and, frankly, even completely ridiculous. Similar to hom/estuck, I think this esotericness adds to people's kneejerk reaction to it when hearing about it second hand.

•The tendency of tumblr to turn on popular media when the magic is gone. This is something I've noticed with a lot of tumblr's number 1 big fandoms. Once a lot of people's interest in it starts wearing off, for some reason people will pivot to hating it. It happened with T/MA a little, it happened with Und/ertale, it happened with S/U, and so many other fandoms that tumblr went crazy over initially. Maybe its because these fandoms became so vocal they started to annoy those not participating, so they started to meme and make fun of it and its fans. Then, when people start to leave as their interests change, they join in on the teasing to displace the shame they might've felt from being teased. Eventually, people usually turn around and come to appreciate the piece of media casually again. That didn't really happen with DR... probably because of the other three reasons.

DR gained this reputation of being "irredeemable, problematic, cringe media" with a toxic fanbase and never shook it off. Before I played DR, I knew nothing about it except that tumblr hated it, for some reason. I had learned literally nothing else through fandom osmosis! And I think that general feeling, that Good People who like Unproblematic Things* (*requirement of being a good person) would never touch DR with a 10 foot pole outside of to make fun of it, sticks with people.

So when people finally check it out, usually through irony-poisoned letsplays of it, and end up actually liking it, they don't know what to do with themselves. How do you balance genuinely liking this piece of media with the site-wide perception youve grown so used to? With the idea that everyone will hate you if they know you like it, that you are a bad person for even posting about it? And thats how you get everyone's first DR post having a caption essentially communicating "im so sorry for posting about dr- I know its terrible and associating myself with this game makes me look disgusting- people who've followed me up until now, please dont hate me!"

[czenzo]

Watch Out for Skull – Chapter 3

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

summary: Lucy takes on a cat-sitting job for a stranger, hoping for a quiet week in a nice London flat, with free food, no bills, and enough time to finish an art commission. But the cat is a menace, and the stranger’s friend is ridiculously charming—and a huge distraction.

words: 2,416 rating: T

“Stop crying at the door, I’m not letting you out!”

Skull responded with another indignant meow.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Lucy muttered as she pressed her brush against the canvas.

George’s bedroom was far from the most glamorous place she’d ever painted in, but it did the job. She’d wrapped the comics on his nightstand in cling film, just in case, and positioned her canvas as far from the bookshelf as possible. She had everything she needed to finally get this commission done.

If only that damn cat would stop skriking.

Lucy flinched mid-brush stroke as he let out another howl. “Why are you only this noisy with me?” she bemoaned, letting the brush clatter onto her palette and running a hand through her hair. She took a step back to assess her progress. It was coming along for certain, but something felt… missing. Lucy tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and picked at the tender skin on her lips (a habit Holly truly despised), but was still no closer to figuring out the missing piece.

Skull cried out again.

Lucy rolled her eyes and left the bedroom, pressing pause on the playlist that had been keeping her company. “Will a treat keep you quiet? Hm?”

She interpreted the responding noise as an affirmative. As she rummaged in the kitchen, there came a knock at the door, and Skull’s latest meow was cut short as he fell into sudden silence. Lucy still gave him a few treats before answering the knock; she couldn’t deny that the way his ears perked at the rustling treat pouch was endearing.

Upon opening the door, she had to crane her neck upwards and was greeted with a gleaming smile.

“Hello,” Lucy said, though it came out like a question. The sound of Skull approaching from behind didn’t escape her notice; she shifted her legs to block the opening as well as she could.

“Hi,” Lockwood said, beaming. “I hear there’s another good whale programme airing today. Thought I’d come round, make sure you didn’t miss it.”

“So chivalry isn’t dead,” she said with a small smile before ushering him inside. He pried off his shoes and hung his coat on the wall before drifting into the kitchen after her. Skull silently wandered off in the opposite direction.

“Tea?” she called over her shoulder.

“Always,” he replied. “Thank you.” He reached over her to the highest shelf of mugs, retrieving a large one with a giraffe’s neck spanning the whole circumference.

Lucy huffed a laugh, and he cast her a sidelong look. “Are you judging my choice of mug?”

“Me? Never,” she said, grabbing one with a swirling pattern that reminded her of The Starry Night.

“Sometimes the key to surviving a Monday is simply drinking good tea from a good mug, I stand by that.”

As she spooned in the sugar (one for her, one and a dash of honey for Lockwood) and waited for the kettle to finish boiling, she glanced up at him with the quirk of a brow. “What are you doing here on a Monday? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He leaned against the counter, arms folded across a jumper that—and now, Lucy was no fashion expert, but had gained some knowledge via osmosis from living with Holly—looked remarkably like cashmere, or some other material that was most certainly not cheap. At the very least, she'd never seen it while perusing the clothes aisles in the local supermarkets. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “most people work on weekdays.”

Lockwood gave a vague wave of his hand. “I have my own way of doing things.”

Lucy’s grip went slack; the spoon clattered into one of the mugs. “You’re filthy rich, aren’t you?”

His face contorted, conflict visible in every wrinkle. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

“I knew Holly went to school with some well-off people, but I never expected to meet one.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “I didn’t expect one to act like this.”

Whatever Lockwood was initially going to reply with was cut short by her last remark; he tilted his head and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re not…” She filled the mugs and stirred as she searched for the right words. “A dick? You don’t reek of privilege, or anything.”

“My parents loved their work,” he said, voice notably quieter. “They became quite known in their field. I don’t necessarily come from money, but… when your parents spend every waking hour working, they end up leaving behind a nice amount.”

Lucy went still. The realisation of her terrible faux pas sunk in like sharp ice in her veins, settling heavily in the pit of her stomach. For a brief moment, she silently stared at the brewing tea, wishing she were able to sink into it and never emerge back up at the surface.

“I’m sorry,” she said, forcing herself to look at him. “I was being a dick. I shouldn’t— I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Lockwood said, gaze softening. “It’s alright.” He retrieved the milk from the fridge and gently nudged her out of the way to pour it into the mugs. “I don’t blame you for thinking everyone who went to our school is a bit… You know.” He grimaced. “A lot of them are. You’re painting for one of them right now. But we’re not all bad, I promise.”

She took her mug and held onto it tight, a steaming lifeline in her hands. “Is going by your surname something you picked up at that school too?”

“Partially,” he admitted. “Rarely anyone calls me Anthony nowadays.”

“Anthony,” she said, trying out the feel of it in her mouth. Lockwood stilled, watching her closely. “Not even Ant? Tony?”

He snapped out of it. “No, God, never. Please don’t call me that.”

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. “Noted,” she replied into her mug.

They soon drifted back into the living room, another documentary playing in the background. Skull sat before the TV, laser-focused on watching the marine animals swim across the screen.

“How is Kipps’ painting coming along?”

“It’s getting there…” She scrunched her nose. “Something just feels missing.”

Lockwood tilted his head. His sincere interest made her stomach feel funny. “How so?”

“Right now the piece feels too… mundane? Not special enough. From what I can gather, Kipps seems a bit—” she side-eyed Lockwood, hoping he’d catch her drift.

“Flamboyant? Flashy?”

Lucy tilted her mug towards him in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m not sure how he’ll feel about it at the moment. I’m due to give him an update soon, but I’m putting it off.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lockwood said with easy confidence.

“You’ve never seen my work. I could be a really shit artist, for all you know.”

He hesitated, suddenly finding the contents of his mug incredibly riveting.

Lucy straightened, attempting to catch his eye and failing miserably. “What?”

“I… may have had a little peruse of your website?”

“Ah,” she said, relaxing back into her seat. “So you stalked me.”

“Not in the slightest,” he insisted. “I just happened to stumble upon it.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I think your art is lovely.”

“Oh.” Lucy fought to quash the heat rising in her face. “Thank you.”

“Did you go to art school?”

“Too expensive. I did it for GCSE and A-Level, but after that I just taught myself between shifts at work.”

“That’s incredible,” he said, voice dripping with awe. “You’re very talented.”

She laughed away the fluttering in the back of her throat. “Or just great at following YouTube tutorials.”

“When do your commissions open?”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if this was going in the direction she thought it was. “They’re open now. If I get any more, they’ll be put in a queue after Kipps’.”

“I see,” he said, nodding intently. “And how would one go about ordering a commission?”

“Through my website,” she replied out of habit, before jumping to correct herself for this exception. “But you could have my number, for a quicker response time. If you want.”

Lockwood’s smile was remarkably soft. “I’d like that very much.”

–––

The perk of handing Lockwood her number was that the ball was now entirely in his court; she avoided the torture of deliberating the wording of a first text, wondering if she should text at all, or being confused as to whether Lockwood genuinely just wanted her number to get a commission slot or not.

A day had passed since she gave it to him, and she hadn’t heard a peep from the man—not a visit, a call, or even a text. Not that Lucy particularly cared, or had spent any significant amount of time dwelling on it. Not at all.

Mid-afternoon was spent curled up in an armchair, nibbling at the remainder of the Swiss roll and finally venturing out into trying a green tea—a well-needed break from working on Kipps’ painting all morning. On her lap sat her sketchbook, full of mindless doodles and sketches to keep her creativity flowing. At the base of the chair lay Skull. He pretended to be asleep, but Lucy caught him glancing up at her several times, as if checking she was still there.

Without realising, she began to sketch the outline of his sleeping form, tracing the swoop of his curled tail and the stretch of his relaxed ears. His facial markings were tough to recreate accurately, but Lucy welcomed the challenge. The sleeping Skull sketch was followed by numerous others: Skull stretching, back arched like a bridge; Skull shouting for her attention, mouth gaping and sharp teeth shining; Skull being held in someone’s arms, their slender fingers scratching his head, dark hair flopping over their forehead as they looked down with a beaming smile—

Lucy dropped the pencil as if it burnt her.

Then her phone rang.

The caller ID was unknown. As she held up her phone to inspect it, Skull’s perked ears peered over the top edge. He stared at the phone with intense scrutiny.

She pressed answer. “Hello?”

“Lucy,” a familiar voice said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Hi.  It’s Lockwood.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she fought off Skull’s attempts to jump up into her lap and swat at the phone. To appease him, she grabbed a nearby toy—a dangling ghost attached to a string and stick—and let him run wild with his attacks from a safe distance. “Hi,” she continued. “You alright?”

“Very much so. How is your day going?”

Skull pounced for the little ghost; Lucy yanked it up into the air at the last second. The look he gave her was scalding, and she muffled a laugh at the back of her throat. “It’s going well.”

“I was thinking more about your work,” he said. “I was wondering if we could talk about the possibility of me commissioning you? Perhaps over coffee.”

Lucy blanched. “Coffee?”

“Well,” Lockwood hesitated. “Tea and cake. At a coffee shop.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Considering Skull is confined to George’s flat… yes?”

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Okay. Cool. I can do that. I’m free tomorrow?"

“So am I.” Lucy pushed aside the thought that this was unsurprising. Lockwood continued, “I can meet you at George’s at one?”

Skull geared himself up for another big pounce; this time Lucy’s reflexes weren’t quite fast enough, and he landed on the ghost with a display of triumph, sinking his teeth and claws into the stuffed fabric. “Sounds good.”

“Fantastic. It’s a d— It’s sorted. It’s a plan. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I hope the rest of your day goes well.”

“You too, Lockwood,” she said, certain her fond smile was simply directed at Skull’s successful hunting endeavour. “See you tomorrow.”

Skull looked up at her as the beep signalled the end of the call.

“I need to talk to someone about that,” she said, staring back at him, “but it’s not going to be a cat.”

Dislodging herself from the cosy armchair, Lucy hauled herself into the kitchen to defrost and reheat one of the curries that caught her eye earlier. As the Tupperware spun slowly in the microwave, she dialled one of the few people in her contact list—and idly wondered if she ought to add another to it.

“Lucy!” Holly said, her smile even more audible than Lockwood’s. “How are things going with the cat?”

“Oh, they’re going,” she replied. “Are you enjoying having our flat to yourself?”

“Honestly, it’s quite strange,” Holly admitted. “Too quiet. I almost miss the music you play while painting. And your scrambled egg.”

Lucy’s chest puffed a little with pride. Her scrambled egg was the best. (The secret was an obscene amount of butter and salt, but she dared not tell Holly.)

“Halfway there,” Lucy said. “You’ll have me back soon. But”—she hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic—“I actually called because I… need your advice?”

“Lucy,” Holly said slowly. “Please don’t tell me you killed the cat.”

Her tongue tripped over itself in her hurry to reply. “No! No. Nothing like that. Skull’s fine.” She cast a glance over to him; he sat in the kitchen entrance, quietly observing her. “It’s something else. Someone else.”

“Go on…”

“George’s friend came round the other day—Lockwood?”

“Really tall, all limbs and smiles?”

“That’s the one. He got his dates mixed up and came round, thinking George was still here, but then he ended up staying anyway, and we talked, then he came around again the next day, and we talked, then—”

“He came around again today? And you talked?”

“No,” Lucy said, incredulous. “He called me today.”

Holly gasped. “You gave him your number?!”

“For work! He was interested in getting a commission.”

“Ri-ight.”

“I swear down. Anyway, we talked over the phone and he asked if I wanted to go for coffee—no, tea and cake—somewhere tomorrow—”

“Oh my God!”

“—to talk about the commission! To talk about the commission,” she hissed. “But then as we were saying bye, he tripped up and said ‘It’s a d— It’s a plan’.”

“Lucy!” Holly softly-screamed. “It’s a date! You’re going on a date with a real human being!”

The microwave pinged. Skull trotted across the room to butt his head against her calf.

“Oh my God,” Lucy said, realisation finally sinking in. “It’s a date.”

[tobiasdrake]

Well, I was supposed to wake up in a field but instead.....

Some sorta void beyond time and space. Neat. It would seem I have gained the ability to determine for myself how far back to loop.

I credit this new ability to my brilliant decision to touch the timedrop. Clearly, I have absorbed its power and added it to my own through temporal osmosis. I have based this observation on nothing whatsoever but I will hear no argument otherwise.

In any case... I still need to find out who keeps breaking that bread so--

Oh my god you read my Pocket Notes and listen in on my conversations and now you're just being controlling I NEED SOME SPACE LEMONFRIEND

>_< I am in a toxic relationship. With time.

A revelation that wasn't the main goal of dipshitting myself into oblivion but is a welcome discovery nonetheless. At least we know that everyone who's frozen is a) somewhat conscious but b) not in a state where they would be suffering.

10/10 Great service, satisfying experience. I look forward to killing myself again in the future.

Alright. Well. Guess we'll get back to it. Grab the tonics from the side room and my ding ding and then--

No. Fuck you.

I was thinking about my ding ding it could not be helped

Ugh, this place is so rude! I want to file a complaint.

Moving right along. Nothing to see here.

Like those two buildings back in Dormont that are inexplicably locked. Must be some kind of regional locking mechanism popular in this area but I have no idea what.

Oh, there we go. That was easy. So we just need to figure out the pass phrase for any of these doors we find.

I see where this is going. It would behoove me to throw myself on that Tear over yonder and die so I can go get the password.

...but I have the utmost confidence that I'll get myself stupidly killed anyway soon, so I don't need to bother.

In a suspicious place, yes. That sure is a pillar.

I do not trust this pillar, okay?

This pillar is watching us.

Plotting.

It knows I'm on to it.

You say that like we should feel bad for it, Isa. Unfortunately, feeling bad for things is a form of Sadness so I'm afraid all of my sympathy's getting chopped up with scissors.

Along with this boss fight.

Alright, cool. Some kind of key thing that can be used to something something with the tears, so let's keep going and--

...okay so maybe it's actually dangerous to hussle the group past all of the deathtraps I already know about. I may be trapfinding so well at this point that it's putting everyone in danger.

Who would do something so monstrous

Okay now I'm super onboard. King needs to die.

Go on, Bonnie. Take a wok on the wild side. *wok-a wok-a*

Am I... am I supposed to scramble it? Wait, is this a metaphor? Does this key have gender dysphoria that it hasn't quite realized yet?

...so that's a yes. Yes, the key has undiagnosed gender dysphoria.

Cool. I'm happy I caught that. I feel proud of myself for my ability to pick up LGBT subtext.

This philosophy is pretty deep. I took the religion of Change for a silly joke at first but no, this is some serious shit.

Is this whole religion a metaphor for the experience of being LGBT? There is clearly some strong coding going on here with Vaugardian society. In fact, the entire concept of worshipping change is itself so tightly connected to gender and the trans/non-binary experience that--

BONNIE

NO

You take that gender out of your mouth this instant! The experience of self-discovery is NOT breakfast!

*sigh* Kids.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 2 of Harrow the Ninth

I think I was too quick to complain about Harrow's POV, I learned a lot of interesting things in this chapter about the world and its history, and have strong suspicions of some additional things

This is a great question, which I notice was not answered

I gather this must be Mercymorn? Anyway, it looks like the steles are also used for radio communication in addition to FTL travel

I guess she got this idea from seeing the Body with a sword strapped to her back?

I've been noticing this throughout the last book but kept forgetting to comment on it, but people mostly seem to measure largish things in terms of "bodies", it's been happening since like the very first chapter of Gideon the Ninth. But I notice earlier in this book that Harrow described the sword as being "six feet" rather than something like "one body"

So, he does go on to explain why he can't return to the Nine Houses, but he never explains why he can't resurrect more people. This makes me wonder if it wasn't actually the deaths of the planets that spawned the revenants, but the resurrection itself? They are called Resurrection Beasts after all

Osmosis is when the concentration of something on two sides of permeable membrane is unequal, so some stuff moves from one side to the other to equalize it. If souls are thalergy, and living humans are probably sources of high thalergy concentration and the River has low thalergy concentration, why do souls only osmos into the River at death? Shouldn't they be osmosing all the time? Or is this going in the direction of "living is just dying, actually"?

Even after reading this whole chapter, I'm not sure what this means. Especially since after reading this whole chapter, I'm fairly certain that the Emperor used to be a regular human at one point

Do all planets have microbial life? I don't think that's necessarily true

It's weird that Harrow thinks this way about her own thought. This makes me wonder if the second person thing actually means that there's some hidden third-party narrator here who has this opinion, the way that the Homestuck Meat Epilogue devolved into unbearable Dirk narration in which Dirk describes his own mouth as "kissable" through Jake's POV

If the Resurrection Beasts hunt people who have consumed other people's souls to gain power, and they are hunting the Emperor most of all, that must mean that he has also consumed a soul to gain power, presumably to become God. Consuming one soul makes you a Lyctor, but at least if we believe the exposition so far Lyctors are less powerful and less immortal than the Emperor (we haven't actually seen him do anything that requires God-like power onscreen). How many souls do you have to consume to become a god? Or maybe it's not a matter of consuming a lot of souls, but consuming a bigger soul, like say... a planet's soul? The Emperor said their were nine planet souls originally, and five have been killed and three still exist. So there is one planet soul that was not killed but also doesn't exist anymore, and I bet, I bet you that he consumed that planet soul the way the Lyctors consumed their cavaliers and that's how he became God. When the Lyctors consume their cavaliers their eye color changes, and the Emperor has those freaky completely black eyes, so I bet it was the same process, just with something that wasn't human. And if I had to guess, I would guess that the consumed planet soul was Earth's, it wouldn't really make sense for it to be a different planet. So then I guess the remaining question is: did all the planets die of some natural disaster and the Emperor just happened to be in the right place at the right time to consume Earth's soul when that happened? Or did he kill Earth intentionally in order to become a God and accidentally fucked up and killed all of the other planets too, creating these eight Resurrection Beasts that are now eternally pursuing him, so he resurrected everyone and created this death religion and some Lyctors who would also be pursued by the Resurrection Beasts so that they were forced to help him defeat them? I mean, he did tell Harrow that she might want to hit him after she found out the truth

So, here we definitely have Gideon's name being replaced in her experience with Ortus's, so this must be after whatever she did to remove Gideon. And obviously his mouth looks strange when he says it because he's actually saying something completely different and the mouth movements don't match up to what she's hearing. And I guess the last two times, he really is saying "Ortus" because Harrow said "Ortus" and now he's confused?

Harrow's hallucination of the Body in this chapter feels like it probably is actually something real. She felt her hand on her back this chapter, she spoke to her, etc. The Body appeared with a sword strapped to her back, she said "you have to learn that sword" and she has Gideon's eye color, which Harrow doesn't seem to recognize anymore. If this is after Harrow did something to remove Gideon and become "half a Lyctor", I bet this Body hallucination is actually Gideon's ghost. I don't know what this is a metaphor for:

but if this is Gideon speaking, and Harrow has removed Gideon at this point, I can guess what Gideon would be telling her to do at this point: to accept her sacrifice and consume Gideon's soul again to return to being a full Lyctor. Gideon repeatedly asked Harrow to siphon her soul and sacrificed herself to save Harrow, so she wouldn't appreciate Harrow trying to save her by hurting herself. And if that's what that means, then Ianthe's dialog in the prologue now makes perfect sense:

She's even telling Harrow that Gideon and Naberius don't matter, so it doesn't matter if their souls get consumed, here.

[doublel27]

One plot thing from lone star that I don’t entirely get is that they’re complaining that 18 months is such a long wait? That’s about normal waiting time for a wedding surely? At least there’s time to plan, make sure people are actually free, and arrange the whole shebang. I get they want to be married and this is weird timeline telly world, but I don’t understand how having to plan a wedding in 8 weeks is better 😂

Hello Nonny! Sorry it's taken so long for me to get here. BUT...

TK meant what he said when he said EVERY MOMENT WE'RE NOT MARRIED IS A WASTED MOMENT.

He wants a wedding that is nice and has like PEOPLE, but he also doesn't want to wait a YEAR AND A HALF. Do you know how many times TK nearly dies in a year and a half? He can't wait that long. He might be dead.

He won't actually be dead, but like...with the track record of parents on this show who knows who'll make it to the wedding. He won't waste time, and 18 months as fiances is too long for TK.

It's not an unreasonable time for normal people, but TK has never been normal. So...

His one track mind for the wedding is hilarious though. Cant eat carbs, have a wedding suit. Dad has a motorcycle - don't crash and ruin my wedding. Carlos has a wife...we've just gotta get him divorced because I am not delaying my wedding! Carlos is missing, gonna take Carlos's detective skills I've gained through osmosis and find my fiance, because we have a wedding to plan.

And Carlos wants TK to be happy, so TK is going to get what TK wants. He's not having pouting at the wedding.

[aikoiya]

DP - Valerie's Powers

I think that slowly over time, she’d become something along the lines of an ecto-liminal or even a pseudo-halfa, but a unique one. She might be able to gain a pseudo-core & ecto-signature, but instead of an Obsession, she'd have a Fixation due to not being a true Halfa. Also, I feel like most of her powers would be bound to her armor. (There’s this ‘race’ in DnD 5e called Animated Armor which is a soul bound to a set of armor. There’s also this homebrew somewhere that allows a character to wear said armor. So, I think of it like Valerie’s wearing one of these armors. The only difference here is that the soul possessing the armor is her own living one.)

Like, when not wearing her armor, she'd just have the typical ecto-liminal powers. Things like enhanced physicality, better senses, ability to see in the dark, able to see & touch non-ectoplasmic spiritual entities, a sort of feather fall ability, & the ability to affect people's sense of object permanence in regards to herself.

Just small, easy to dismiss things.

However, due to not being a true Halfa, she wouldn't become more powerful naturally. Instead, that'd require actually upgrading her suit as it has a sort of osmosis function that allows it to integrate technology into itself.

Taking advantage of this function, she can eventually obtain full ghost powers, but it's done by proxy of working technology enhanced with ecto-energy. So, invisibility would work using a camouflage function, intangibility would work based on molecular phasing via high-speed vibration (think the Flash), ghost rays would work by just using guns that are built into the suit, & flight is obtained via her hoverboard which would move based on the theory of acoustic levitation.

Now, normally, this sort of technology works very differently to ghost powers. Such as camouflage being when you bend the light around you to reflect away from you & molecular phasing via vibration being when molecules vibrate at such a high speed that you can pass through matter, not to mention that acoustic levitation is the use of soundwaves to keep objects suspended in the air. Whereas ghostly invisibility & intangibility are actually the ghost literally leaving the physical plain & entering the spiritual plain & flight is, again, full control of one's gravity. Or at least, that's how Halfa flight works.

However, due to Valerie's suit being powered by ectoplasm, it sort of bridges the gap between the 2. However, it would still require the technology to be sound. Like, invisibility would actually require the tech to actually successfully camouflage even without ectoplasm in order for full ghostly invisibility to work with ectoplasm. The ectoplasm just sort of… increases the tech's effectiveness, I suppose?

It would also allow her to have a unique way of becoming a better hunter that is separate from how Danny does.

It could also create interesting irony & internal conflict for her character if she were to begin to exhibit more & more ghostly features.

Though, she wouldn't ever have the same potential for raw power that Danny does.

DP Character Masterlist

[the-phantom-author]

He infact, doesn’t teach you.

"Babe, sweetheart, darling. He's going to be here in less than a week. I'm not going o try to teach you a whole new language in that amount of time."

He does start to replace certain word with the Turkish equivalent, so that way you can at least gain some exposure and learn through osmosis.

[fallershipping]

Adult Oriented Headcanons (+18)

Won't get too wild, but wanted to see how the Mature filter worked! Plus, I'll keep this under a read more.

Explicit language ahead! Please be advised before reading!

Both: - Neither Looker nor Anabel are more sexually dominant than the other. - They are relatively vanilla or start off vanilla at the very least. - Both agents have never been in a relationship before each other. They're not exactly inexperienced or awkward at sex either, though they did learn a lot over time. - Both are headcanon'd to be under the Ace Spectrum? Specifically Demi, I guess. - Sex, let alone romance, wasn't something either really thought about or if they did, didn't see it feasible due to their Interpol careers. - Looker and Anabel do masturbate though. Faceless fantasies started to become not so faceless when their feelings began to bloom, however. - Have definitely fucked in Interpol's HQ at least once.

Looker: - Big spoon - Cuddlebug. He loves holding Anabel close to him subconsciously. - Loves body exploration. He's a very handsy man, tracing every inch of his lover. Seeks out sensitive spots. - Service Top usually. - Very, very vanilla starting out, but he gains a couple of kinks through osmosis. Or as if he's leveling up. - Particularly, light bondage, use of toys, but most important of all, Roleplay. He's very fond of Roleplay. - He's very gentle, only really hard if asked. - Keen on practicing aftercare, or scooping up Anabel in his arms and carrying her to wherever he feels fit. - Really enjoys it when Anabel's using sweet, food scented shampoos and body lotions. - sometimes bites. not hard. but he nibbles. - He is vehemently against hurting, causing pain, or getting hurt himself. Hard pain turns him off. Gripping hair or skin tightly from pleasure is fine, just no forceful tugging or scratching. - Looker has an uncut penis, and is relatively well endowed. - He bears some scars on his chest due to previous altercations that Anabel sometimes mindlessly traces with her touch. - He's also fit and muscular. Not supermodel skin tight-- he's very natural looking. Anabel is very, very fond of his naked form. - Erogenous zones are neck, chest, and groin. Melts under kisses.

Anabel - Little spoon - Also a cuddler. Likes to rest on top of Looker as if he was Snorlax. - Kisses and teases a lot, trying to incite a reaction out of Looker through light, soft sensations. - Power Bottom usually. - Has a bit more sexual boldness than Looker when exploring fantasies. - Also into roleplay, but specifically... Breeding kinks, feral undertones, anything that rouses Looker to be at his full potential - Got Looker into light bondage and toys. And breeding. - Praises her lover, caresses him, constantly shows him through her actions that he is loved and appreciated. - Likes to wear nothing but Looker's trenchcoat to tease him rather coyly. - likes it when looker bites her;;; - Doesn't like pain either, but also doesn't like being seen like an object or degraded in a misogynistic manner. It really doesn't make her feel good at all. - Anabel has a petite frame and thinly built, not muscular. - Her breasts and butt are fairly smaller than average, yet plush and "oh so cute" according to Looker - Soft skin. "absolutely, delightfully kissable" according to Looker - Erogenous zones are neck, inner thighs, and breasts/nipples. Tends to be noisy from physical affection.

[rueitae]

Season 2, Episode 4: the fashionista caper

Liveblog for @csweekly

I’d like to start off by saying how blown away I am that the writing team keeps each caper so unique and fresh in a formulaic series. It’s one of my favorite things. I never once find myself truly bored with this show even watching it so many times.

Player….making a My Big Fat Greek Wedding reference? Out of anything they could start the episode with. Not sure what to make of that one besides cultural osmosis. It’s a little before his time.

Love Dash Haber as a villain. Capers not boring and neither are the operatives.

Lol the Cleaners just stop. Don’t react. Move on. Not dramatic enough for their viewing pleasure.

Is this when we get to say “no capes”?

Ever since Paper Star clipped Carmen’s hat once, Carmen is able to save it every time.

Tug of war over the hat is so funny to me.

Carmen doesn’t win all the time. Keeps things interesting.

You know, since it’s coming from Carmen, I legitimately can’t decide if she’s being overtly satirical, or if Coach Brunt actually does knit as a hobby. …no. No way Brunt has the patience. Carmen’s just mad.

APOCALYPSE. One of my favorite Zack moments.

Ahh the home base conversation. Equal parts touching and even mORE guilt wrenching for Shadowsan to hear. “If only I knew more about my past..” If only we could see his face when she says that line.

“The only thread I could pull…” Player making puns literally in his sleep at this point.

Shadowsan filling in Fashion Fest and the team’s REACTION to it. And then just his “Countess Cleo always took an interest.”

Cleo backstory!!! At least a basic one. Just makes me yearn for more. I get the feeling we would have gotten a lot of criminal backstories if we’d had more seasons.

Cookie! I’m glad they had her back for a full caper. Really tho, Carmen totally got her entire look from her LOL. There’s not as much ode to 90s Carmen in this episode through her than the laying it on thick they did in the first. I can’t decide if I like that or I’m disappointed there’s not more. Because in this caper she’s her own thing.

Zack is ALREADY including Shadowsan as dad please I’m so emotional about those two and what it says between the lines of Zack and Ivy’s past. This boy LATCHED onto the first male adult he was allowed to and said “we are going to bond”.

Julia it should be illegal to be this adorable.

Yeah. Different capers like I talked about in the opening paragraph. Going after 16th century gowns. This is a homage to older CS. Always the caper is something historical and unique rather than simply money or jewelry. Keeps the vibe from older iterations.

Also. Again. This entire episode foreshadows the dark red arc, everything leads to it. Brainwashing Carmen was ALWAYS on the table.

Oops. Sorry Zari (Stockholm is totally revenge for this moment)

Ahh and the beginnings of trusting Julia. Carmen’s got her pegged completely. Knows her heart is in it for history, and that whatever act she’s putting on isn’t really her. All that she could glean from their first and only interaction in India. Carmen almost ALMOST knocks her out like Zari, but ever the quick thinker, Carmen takes a chance with the knowledge she’s been given. She’s done the math and needs one more person.

Although I absolutely would have roared if Shadowsan got up on that stage.

The runway scene. Fantastic. And really you get a feel that this is actually the beginning of Julia’s arc in gaining confidence in herself. She already sticks up for herself, but this scene is what cements that 1. Carmen is not the bad guy 2 if she can get on that runway, she can stick her neck out with confidence for what she believes in. She doesn’t waver after this.

Also color theory. Carmen gives her her hat. Julia’s red shirt is gone but Carmen gives her this lifeline of friendship. Literally by verbally putting her in charge she’s telling Julia that she trusts her and wants to let her in on what the team is doing.

Ivy and Zack PLEASE. I love you enough already. You don’t have to go so hard on the runway.

It’s kinda cool how the models still walk like models in between the fighting.

Shadowsan’s strength is literally terrifying

LOL her eyebrow of incredulity to “which modeling agency are you with”

“Hackers can wear white hats after Labor Day” my gosh I love their banter. Everything is building up to Player’s s4 zinger of all time.

This hq idea is SO clever. Literally hiding in plain sight. The most home that Carmen can get right now. It’s my favorite thing.

“Zack got to have gelato and pizza” I love this family.

Huh I wonder if some or most of those silhouettes are based off of older iterations of ViLE operatives.

Such a solid and fun episode.

[askymzbuki]

If you don’t mind me asking, how important would you say that having a specific community and/or culture (regardless of what kind of culture) to be a part of is when it comes to mental/emotional/intellectual well-being? Also, if someone either is or was/has been unable, or even unwilling to participate in one, do you think it’s possible to change that in any meaningful way? Or are there specific “windows” or other conditions required to properly belong in one?

"how important would you say that having a specific community and/or culture [...] to be a part of is when it comes to mental/emotional/intellectual well-being?"

Early on in life probably least healthy unless you know how to bounce back from fatal mistakes. I'd say before 20, sometimes even before 25 being part of a "community" is detrimental to development in a way. Most cases.

"Also, if someone either is or was/has been unable, or even unwilling to participate in one, do you think it’s possible to change that in any meaningful way? Or are there specific “windows” or other conditions required to properly belong in one?"

If you've the necessary prerequisites of emotional maturity, which ties into my first answer, you can become part of a community at any point in time. Culture passes through osmosis for people who are capable of acting as informational sponges.

Lawrence was a fairly well developed Englishman when he gained affinity for Bedouins and almost defacto assimilated into their culture. He was 26 when the war started and possibly 28 by the time he'd reached Egypt. Within a year he'd almost entirely assimilate as an Arab, now behaving in their manners and speaking Arabic perfectly fluently.

The only window is Willpower.

[void-kissed]

aqua is cool and awesome and shes like ?? a master but i cant remember the title specifically but i know thats very girlboss of her. she has a rly cool keyblade and a wayfinder thing (??) that ik u have a necklace of !!

(source: this post by 1980ssunflower)

send an ask about your understanding of any of my F/Os that you’ve received through osmosis of all my posts - Yes!!!! You're spot on!!!! Aqua is so cool and awesome and I love her

She actually has at least three exclusive Keyblades, fun fact!! The first one she's shown with is Rainfell, and she later gets an upgraded version of it called Stormfall. She gets one more exclusive Keyblade too, but she only unlocks it gameplay-wise after she's canonically wielding Master's Defender story-wise, so.. she's never really shown with it, which is a shame. However, I think I would say it’s my favourite one she has overall, in terms of both design and for what it represents! It's called Brightcrest!

(From left to right, assuming the formatting stays as it should: Rainfell, Stormfall, Brightcrest)

Stormfall can also turn into a Keyblade Glider, which is very cool.

And then, on the note of her Wayfinder - you are correct in that I have a necklace of it (which also holds my abalone butterfly)! And I also have a more-accurate-to-game-size version of it too, that my old friend got me for Christmas a few years ago (I bought them a gold one in return). It's currently hanging from a hook on the side of my wardrobe, which puts it right by the head of my bed.

Oh, and her fancy title that you're thinking of other than her being a Keyblade Master is that she's - I believe - the current Successor to the Land of Departure! This means she's the one who's "inherited" the world from her own master, Eraqus - she's the one overseeing the world, and protecting it from anything that would wish to manipulate it, and she's the one training apprentices to be the next generation of Keyblade wielders there. This is different to a Seeker, which Xehanort was (and which Aria is) - these are Keyblade Masters who travel to many other worlds to gain knowledge, and probably also do things like scout for new potential apprentices (and potential trouble arising).

Thank you so much for sending all this, friend!! ^-^

[lynxmuse]

Mindfulness Moment

There was a term Sifu often used when teaching us:  “Big A.”  As in a large, capital, letter A, the first type of letter we learn when we learn how to print in school.*  We start with block letters, ALL CAPS, evenly spaced, across the page.  Then we move onto learning small letters, perhaps on pages with multiple lines to show the baseline, the height of the cap, the height of the small, the depth below the baseline for your gs and qs… And then we learn about kerning… and about variations in the letters… and THEN we move onto a whole other thing and get into cursive and kind of repeat the process… and THEN we get into calligraphy and making our writing our own… and we create shorthand and… and and and so on.

The idea that Sifu was getting at when he deployed the phrase Big A wasn’t, however, simply that Kung Fu is a progression.  I mean, Kung Fu most certainly is a progression, but what Sifu was highlighting was that when we start learning something we need to start, and are taught, at a very big, blocky, and fundamental level.  And we practice that.  And then we can build off that.  And what comes next, what we’re taught next, and what we discover next, it doesn’t lose the Big A, it doesn’t discard the Big A, nor does it change the Big A.  It transforms the Big A, whether by gaining depth or nuance, or by combining several Big As together, or by applying it in more elegant ways, or whatever.**

So if Sifu gave us some instruction or insight or new concept to explore, if we would “counter”*** with “but I thought…” he could quickly explain that our “but” was simply a Big A.  It was indeed what we had been taught and practiced and internalized… and it was not being negated, simply now here’s something else to add in, to practice with, to incorporate, to integrate.

Which we would do, and our skill and delight would grow.

To which**** so too is it in our life.  Or with any art, for that mater.  We may learn something – whether specifically taught to us or learned through osmosis or learned by ‘accident’ by trial and response – and we may go on applying it everywhere, whether that be a concept or a mindset or a behaviour or a grand philosophical question/idea.  But that might only have been a Big A, and by staying there we may be not only missing out on grander results, but also of greater ease and grace and of grander experiences of living.

With humility and mindfulness we can recognize and operate from that there’s always more of both depth and breadth to discover, to get, and to grok.  And out of that and in gaining what’s next there’s so much wonder we get to marvel in.

* I mean, at least that we used to learn to print/write in school… not sure to which this applies in the new world of tablets and keyboards and all that!

** This dovetails nicely with that great Niels Bohr quote about truths.

*** I don’t mean that we argued against it per se, more like the natural reaction that’s a combination of “wait, I thought it was like this?” confusion along with of a bit of a defensive “oh crud, I thought I was doing it right?” also coupled with curiosity of “ohhh, wait, it isn’t entirely this?”

****  And I know you all knew this was coming – all my Mindfulness Moment Kung Fu stories end this way!

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #14

Leviathan: I got a headache

Leviathan: Google says I’m gonna die

Simeon: Why is google sending you death threats for having a headache

•

Solomon: Shower thoughts: if 666 is evil, then 25.806975801127 is the root of all evil

Leviathan: Do you have a fucking calculator in your shower?

•

Mephistopheles: Welcome to plastic surgery addicts anonymous. I’m seeing a lot of new faces in the crowd today and I just have to say I’m disappointed.

•

Mammon: I hate public bathrooms for all the obvious reasons but also because one time somebody in the next stall silently reached over and untied my shoe

•

MC: In an emergency a crayon will burn for thirty minutes

Mammon: How long will it burn if it isn’t an emergency?????????

Belphegor: #what does the crayon define as an energy

Lucifer: I would guess that being on FUCKING FIRE is what a crayon would consider an emergency

•

Asmodeus: Lightning McQueen is a twink

Simeon: Common misconception he’s actually a car

•

Mammon: *Walks in kitchen at 2 AM*

…wow okay…I need to be quite…

TRIPS OVER CHAIR, BREAKS LEG, CATCHES HOUSE ON FIRE

Barbatos: who brushes their teeth in the kitchen?

Mammon: What

•

Diavolo: But why would we ever remove the wises of our teeth

•

Solomon: Balloons are so weird… “happy birthday here’s a plastic sack of my breath”

•

Leviathan: My body may be at work right now but my soul is stuck in the wii Sports universe

Diavolo: Which game

Leviathan: Bowling

•

Leviathan:

Me at my second rodeo

Me: this ain’t my first rodeo

•

Leviathan: When did lmao become short hand for “I’m fucking suffering”

Simeon: Lamenting my anguish online

•

Mammon: All our generation wants is a small house and a spouse that loves them back

Leviathan: I also want a sword

•

MC: One day I hope I am the girl that walks into a room and all eyes are on her

Mammon: The trick is to get a really big hat and then scream

•

Mammon: Name on fragrance commercial that has ever made sense

Asmodeus: What are you talking about they all make scents

Mammon: Shut the fuck up

•

Leviathan: I just got arrested for being too ugly

Leviathan: Can someone come bail me out

MC: On my way!

MC: Can someone come bail me out

•

Raphael: The breakfast club isn’t even about breakfast

Beelzebub: You could have at least said spoiler alert

•

Solomon: My roommate is two days younger than me so I’ve gotten into the habit of saying “when I was your age” and describing what I did two days ago

•

Satan: Am I the only one that finds it weird that I can transfer data from my brain to someone else by opening my mouth and pushing air with vibrations in their direction

Lucifer: How high are you?

Satan: 5’11”

•

Belphegor: If you put a science book under your pillow when you sleep you’ll gain the knowledge through osmosis

Satan: NO OSMOSIS IS FOR WATER!! KNOWLEDGE AND EVERYTHING ELSE IS TRANSFERRED THROUGH DIFFUSION!

Belphegor: I can see you slept with your science book last night

Last • Next

[willowcrowned]

I wish you would write a fic where for some reason Luke & Leia are dropped in the past, specifically in the Mellida/Daan conflict after tiny baby Obi Wan has decided to stay there and Qui Gon has left him, which is followed by them winning that war and adopting/kidnapping Obi Wan and then meeting Qui Gon who kinda wants to 1- induct them into the order and 2- his Padawan back

Keeping in mind that I haven’t actually read any of the books, and all my knowledge has been gained through dubious fandom osmosis, let’s do this:

Luke and Leia are both twenty seven. The New Republic is established, the new Order has lots more Jedi Masters, and both of them are, well, not obsolete, because they both take an active role in their respective jobs, but they’re not necessary. Leia and Han are married, Luke has had a string of hookups, and they’re both... restless. You don’t live a war for four years and come out of it knowing how to live peacefully. Leia doesn’t know how to stop being in command; Luke doesn’t know how to stop feeling like he needs to be saving people all the time.

And then, all of a sudden, they’re in the middle of a war zone. Shots are flying, there’s yelling, and, worst of all, there are children everywhere. Luke ignites his saber, Leia grabs her blaster, and they get out of there, pulling as many children with them as they can. 

The kids take them to their high command, which is filled with children— and only children. Luke and Leia share a look, and they can feel the other’s face harden in tandem with their own. This cannot— will not— go on.

And then, leading them, is a tiny jedi padawan and a girl with a shock of red hair, and Luke, against all odds, knows who the child is.

The war ends quickly after that— not bloodlessly, not without sacrifice, not without pain that the children never should have had to endure, but at least it ends quickly. Obi-Wan and his friend, Cerasi, both survive through the war, and through the rebuilding.

And then Luke and Leia are at a loss. 

They’ve done this before— staying after peace has been established, seeing the resurgence not only of life, but of culture, of music and literature and science, and they love it, they love seeing the beginnings of a new kind of civilization but... there’s nothing for them to do. 

Okay, they think, looking at each other. There must be other planets like this. We can bring them peace.

They tell the Young, the Melida, the Daan— they tell Cerasi and Obi-Wan— and everyone is happy but one. Luke can sense it— he’s always been attuned to Obi-Wan— and he asks him what’s wrong. 

The whole story of Qui-Gon tumbles out of him— Tahl, leaving him, and Bandomeer before that— and Luke is a kind person, but this? This is awful.

“Alright,” he says to Obi-Wan, “If you want, I could train you.” And every bit of anxiety that Luke might feel about his own negligible mastery is washed away by the pure brightness of Obi-Wan’s face.

They leave Melida/Daan to its rebirth, and find another system to help. Obi-Wan grows, both in stature and in skill, and most importantly, in security. Every day that Luke and Leia don’t leave him, every day they hug him and come back for him and ask him what he’s feeling and what he wants like it matters, like he matters, he heals a little more.

And then, when Obi-Wan is fifteen, Qui-Gon tracks them down.

They’ve been on Mandalore a month when he shows up (Obi-Wan clearly has a crush on Satine, and Leia is coaching him through the politics of it while Luke just says vaguely encouraging things about love and connections with other people). Luke and Leia are... not pleased, to put it politely. They tell him, very sweet and very cold the whole way through, that he’s not welcome anywhere near Obi-Wan.

And then everything goes down.

The five of them end up on the run together, stuck in small ship after small ship, and Qui-Gon wants to dislike them, he really does, but they’re competent fighters and leaders, subtle when they need to be and loud when they don’t, and they’re excellent teachers for Obi-Wan, who’s excelling in a way Qui-Gon has never seen of a padawan before.

But they don’t let him near Obi-Wan. (The deal, as they explained it on the first night, was that until Obi-Wan asked to talk to Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon would not be talking to him. It’s a hard rule to enforce, and they do occasionally have to work together whenever they get into a tight spot, but for the most part, it sticks. Qui-Gon hasn’t been able to say any more to Obi-Wan than “On your left,” “Get down,” and “Now!”)

(Obi-Wan and Satine, all this while are engaging in the sort of courting that would only occur to two fairly repressed teenagers who tend to get shot at a lot, which is to say that there are many, many, occasions upon which they stitch each others wounds.)

And then it all comes to head.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon get trapped on a planet, Luke and Leia blasting off into the atmosphere with Satine, because they’ll all die if they don’t, and Obi-Wan is left alone with the man that might have been his master. 

Qui-Gon, to his credit, doesn’t push— they’re both exhausted, and Obi-Wan is wounded, and Qui-Gon may be practical but he’s not cruel, so after they’ve found shelter and stitched themselves up, he doesn’t push. After all, no one dies if Obi-Wan continues on the path he’s set for himself, even if the Order loses what might have been a brilliant Jedi. And besides, Qui-Gon has too much respect for Luke and Leia now to say that what they’re teaching Obi-Wan is bad.

So it’s Obi-Wan who speaks first.

“They’re coming back, you know.”

Qui-Gon doesn’t scoff but— it’s a near thing. “The mission is more important. They know that.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t react defensively— not the way a normal child might— he just shakes his head, and says with complete peace and certainty, “They’re coming back. They always do.”

Qui-Gon inclines his head, not conceding the point, but conceding that he won’t argue it further. 

There’s a silence, then, a stillness that stretches beyond not moving— something in the Force, a waiting, the static before a thunderstorm.

“I came back,” Qui-Gon says, in the end, tired and older than his years, “to Melida/Daan. I came back for you.”

Obi-Wan swallows, looking very, very, small all of a sudden, even wrapped in Luke’s cloak. “You left me,” he says, barely above a whisper. “You left a thirteen year old in the middle of a war he didn’t know how to handle, and then you took my home from me.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon says, and he knows what he has to say— what he’s known since he found Melida/Daan at peace, and Obi-Wan gone, spirited away by some specters of a war ended, and realized that he had lost him for good— but that doesn’t make the words come any easier. “I was wrong,” he chokes out, syllable by agonizing syllable, “it was cruel, and I was wrong.”

A strange change comes over Obi-Wan, as if, after all these years, Qui-Gon’s words still mean something to him— as if whatever explanation he can give is enough for Obi-Wan’s absolution.

“Yes,” he agrees, and if he sounds older than he is, it’s not because he’s tired, but because he’s balanced, “it was.”

“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon says, because it’s true, because he is, because he knows know what he didn’t know then— that Obi-Wan was right, was better than him in that moment, that Obi-Wan saw injustice, saw pain, and gave up everything he had, everything he’d ever wanted, to stop it. Qui-Gon hasn’t ever been able to do that, and he wants to blame it on Dooku, on the Order, on the censure he always receives for acting outside the exact guidelines, but he knows the truth of it; he keeps himself from caring so he doesn’t ever have to face those choices. Dooku may have taught him, the Order may have shaped him, but it’s him who makes that decision, day after day, and it took losing another padawan to finally face it. If Qui-Gon is what a Jedi is, then Obi-Wan is what a Jedi should be.

Obi-Wan looks at him, and he’s hurt, yes, and still grieving, but above all else he’s kind, like he can see what Qui-Gon has gone through, like he’s witnessed the worst he has to offer, and still thinks there’s good in him— the genuine, shining, good embodied by Obi-Wan.

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, “and I forgive you.”