#there are no concrete thoughts here; just thoughts

[raichukfm]

It's a fascinating question and the answer doesn't speak to it at all. We're talking about swapping perceptions, you know, the hypothetical thing that could answer those "What if my blue is your red?" ponderings. Were that the case and you were to swap, you would start seeing everything red as blue and vice versa, but you would be able to tell this. That's a controversial point, but we aren't proposing a full qualia inversion here; your internal concepts of red and blue haven't changed, just the way that your brain maps sensory stimuli to your qualia has. You can imagine red, and it's red as you have always imagined it, you just look at a red delicious apple and you see it as blue. (Actually a fascinating question whether people would agree with this assessment, and has me wondering about people with aphantasia specifically about if they think their 'red as they have always imagined it' can be separated from the way things with that color look to them. I'm getting off track.)

But this swap is different. Semiotics refers to the meanings that things have; for instance, the way you are looking at these squiggles or hearing these sound waves and taking them as a message. I am intending a meaning now as I type these words out, and you are taking away a meaning as you perceive them, and though it won't quite be the same meaning it is related. There's a question of where exactly the meaning you perceive is; is it in the message itself? Is it just contained in the context around it? Was it put there by me? Is it only there when you read or hear it?

And now specifically we're talking about abstract objects, things which aren't concrete; for instance, words as words, not images or sounds but the thing that those patterns invoke. Things where it is already an interesting philosophical question about how exactly it is that they exist. (For those with the bent to ponder it and not just go 'Uh, they just do, duh' because yeah that's fair.) And that's just one example of an abstract object. It's not all messages. There are numbers. There are complex mathematical objects, like groups and rings and fields. Are things like "peace" abstract objects?

If we do this swap of perceptions, so you perceive the meaning of an abstract thing to be the meaning that I perceive... What are you perceiving, exactly? Is it the thing anymore? Is this even truly a swap of perceptions or is it rather a swap of thoughts? If you took one piece of my mental model of the world and swapped it out with one of yours, how would it fit in? Would it fit in at all? It's fascinating.

The world isn't shrouded in darkness. There's not some blinding fog that has settled over everything. You can observe the world, make sense of parts of it, peer into its mysteries and try to think of answers. Yeah, it's confusing and a lot of pieces of it are out of reach but that's just because the world is so fucking big and complicated and so many parts we simply lack the faculties to possess. This question is that lovely kind of philosophical pondering that is fundamentally unresolvable and by all rights has no practical purpose... But we can still talk about it, and in talking about it, we can share ideas and work through how it is we think of things. If nothing else, we can enjoy ourselves. And that's as practical a purpose as anything else.

Don't see something you can't think of how to answer and decide that it cannot be answered and that now is a time to shrink away to safe thoughts that can be trusted. Ponder whatever bullshit that strikes your fancy, and try to think about what the answers would be. Even if you can fundamentally never find out if you're right or wrong, the thinking itself is a worthwhile exercise. Encourage other people to do it too, though don't try to force it; different people have their own sorts of funtime questioning. I've got things like this, some people have how much prep time Batman would need to defeat Shrek in a fight.

equally confounded and obsessed by this quora question and response that i just stumbled onto

[angelsworks]

Goldilocks and the Four Bears

Chapter 2

Poly!141 x reader

Summary: You wake to four strangers at the end of your bed.

Warnings: 18+, dark themes, mention of kidnap, mention of torture,

Note: Merry Christmas Everyone - I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 🎅🏻🎄

Masterlist -> Here

For the first time in a long time, you slept well. More than well actually, amazing.

Your body was supported at all points, neck raised slightly, head cushioned on a thick feather pillow. And the sheets were actual bedsheets. One matching set of dark grey linen sheets, adorning the king sized mattress.

A luxury compared to how you’ve slept in the last few months. You never could fall into a deep sleep. Knowing that at any point your captors would come back to your room, kicking you from your slumber and starting your torment once more. When you did try to sleep it was on the concrete floor. Curled in a ball, spread like a starfish, lying on your front. All positions that you’d tried and failed to have a restful night of sleep in.

It must have been the light that woke you, you think wistfully to yourself. A ghost of a smile graces your face at the sight. Light streaming in and hitting the bedspread. Particles of dust, dancing carelessly in the rays. Things were turning around.

You roll on to your back. Stretching your neck from side to side and groaning. Your eyes find the ceiling, a plain white rectangle above you. You take a moment or two to enjoy the silence of the morning, letting yourself wake up.

It’s when you turn to your other side to gaze out the other window, that your peace is disturbed. The window itself is fine, the glass is intact, with a thin frosting of snow on each pane. But the figure that leans beside it is not something you wanted to see, in the previously empty cabin.

A mix of a gasp and shout of surprise leaves your sore throat as you jump in place. Your body becoming rigid and tense with stress at the sight of the intruder. Now sitting more upright, you see that the stranger not alone. He stands with three other men, each more imposing than the last.

While the one by the window did frighten you, his boyish dimples and lean figure have nothing on how the Goliath by the dresser makes you feel. He stands tall, taller than the rest. His face covered by a skull painted balaclava. His grey eyes give nothing away as they stare blankly at you on the bed.

Between the two opposites, are another two men. One stood next to the nicest looking of the four, crossing his arms and trying to keep his face stoic. His hair is styled into a Mohawk and the sight reminds you of bad guys from old movies. His blue eyes stand out against his brutish appearance. Softening the fear that his very being brings you.

The only one left is the man who sits on a chair found in the room. His legs naturally spread a little due to the size of his thighs. His arms are crossed over his chest, causing the muscles in his forearms to bulge under his long sleeve shirt.

His face is blank, hiding what his true thoughts are and most likely what he truly feels. His face is adorned with a healthy amount of facial hear. The feature ages him and makes him look rugged. Your eyes draw to the thick line of hair that he harbours above his pink lips.

They say nothing. They just stare. The action unnerving you. Making you feel like some sort of zoo animal.

The sight of the four muscular and good-looking men put you on edge of course. But there’s something else. Urges that you’d never thought of before. Feelings were never part of the mission. You were determined to keep it that way.

“You sleep alright love?” The man sitting asks you. Him deciding to speak first and the fact that he others look towards him leads you to believe that he is the leader of the men. Despite the authority that they all seem to hold.

His voice is low and quiet. The sounds rumbling together at the low volume. The words are clear enough though, that you can make them out a few feet away on the bed.

You don’t respond, you can’t. What is he wanting you to say? Yes thank you, it was the best sleep of my life.

So you strengthen your resolve and stay silent. Slowly shifting your position so you’re sitting up more instead of lying down. You calm your breathing and focus your mind. You let your eyes glance over the men in the room again.

“Enjoy sleeping in a strangers sheets?” Again his voice is quiet, soft even. But his eyes tell a different story. His eyes that are squeezed into a glare, glower at you. When you meet his eyes it’s too intense. You feel as if you’re on trial for your life. Come to think of it you are.

You stand no chance against these men. In any capacity. If they wanted to kill you, they could. If they wanted to hurt you, they could. If they wanted to take you, they could.

The last thought resonates with you deeply. That’s when the a prick of fear starts to grow in the back of your head. You realised how lucky you were that Miasma had no interest in hurting you in any sort of sexual way. Despite there being many opportunities too, the guards found more enjoyment in kicking you around then fucking you.

“Not going to answer love? Fine.” The man stands from his chair. He moves to stand at the bottom of your bed, hands stretching out over the bed frame. His presence getting that much more suffocating. When he stands close you find no refuge from his gaze. You can’t look to the other men as much, only him. Only his cold, piercing eyes that tell you telling this man anything but the truth is a death sentence.

“What are you doing in our house?” His tone is sharper, harder. The softness found in the low rumble of his previous words is lost.

Your mind races through the cover story you had before infiltrating Miasma. The details around it are so fuzzy. It feels like you’ve got the right story but there are undecided parts.

What were you here for?

Start simple. If you start simple you can fill in the details later. Give yourself a chance to think.

“I got lost in the woods.” Good start, it’s vague enough. Now change your tone.

“I’d been walking for so long and I,” your voice cracks for good measure and you feel your eyes starting to water. You use the emotions from the last few hours to fuel your tears. You were scared. You were afraid. These were all real feelings, you just had to try and channel them. “I was just so cold and so desperate. This was the first place I’d seen in miles.”

For a moment you see his eyes soften. In a flash they’re back on your again. Hard and cold and unrelenting.

“What we’re you doing in the woods, in the middle of winter?” He asks you. Behind his imposing figure you see the one with the Mohawk shift in his stance, trying to get a better look of you.

Your story doesn’t have to just convince the man I front of you. It has to convince the other three in the room. The thought registers as you run through your cover story as quickly as you can.

“I’m a zoologist. I was out here studying brown bears before they went into hibernation. Then these men-” you pause your story, desperate to have a few tears running down your cheek before telling them the rest. You need to sell this or all you’re done, all you’ve survived, would be worth nothing now.

“Go on love, finish your story.” The soft tone has returned, no doubt that it was due to the sight of your tears running and sniffling nose.

“These men came in trucks,” your eye contact won’t be enough you realise, so you free your hands from your side and use them to talk. “It didn’t seem right so I abandoned my stuff and hid. They came looking round and they, they had guns. I snuck away quietly but they found me. They took me back to some sort of military base. Last night was when I managed to escape.”

It wasn’t far from the truth. At least now you’d have a way to explain the myriad of injuries that had been inflicted on you.

The man hums audibly. You aren’t sure if you’ve done enough to convince him. His face doesn’t give anything away.

“Why do yer have their clothes if yer were a captive?” A voice from behind the man calls out, thick with a Scottish accent.

The clothes by the fire.

The captain watched your reaction for a moment. You hope he doesn’t think the flash of realisation that was on your face a moment ago, is evidence you’re lying.

He moves to the side slightly so that you can look the Scotsman in the eye as you answer him.

“They took my clothes. It was the first thing I grabbed when I escaped.” The four men say nothing for a moment. Eyes dead set on you, on your movements, your body language. Contemplating your words, your tone, your story and your tears.

It feels like hours until the leader speaks up again. Hours of waiting for them to pass judgement on you and your future.

“They hurt you?” He asks, tone quiet once more.

You hesitate, “A little…why?” Why does he care? Why would any of them care?

The man ignores your question, “Do you need a first aid kit?”

The question confuses you. Is this some kind of trick.

Part of you wants to say yes. Knowing you’ve got cuts and bruises a plenty that could use cleaning or stitching in some cases. But your hyper aware of where they’re placed. To get to the cuts on your back you’d have to raise or take off your shirt. Not exactly something your eager to do in the four men’s company.

Your shake your head, eyes now wide and mutter out a no.

It causes the men’s eyes to narrow.

“Don’t lie to him lass. Ye wouldn’t want to see what happens if ye do.” The Scotsman threatens.

You bite your lip, “I can handle it. It’s nothing serious.”

“Serious or not, we need to see what damage has been done.” You don’t miss the we in that sentence. Do they all really need to see how banged up you are?

You still shake your head at the premise. The idea causing a pit to form in your stomach.

“You stay put love, we’ll find a first aid kit and bring you a drink. Don’t move.” He fixes you with a final look before he leaves the room. The rest of the men trailing after him.

When the last of the men leaves the room, he shuts the door. The sight of the dark oak door brings air back into your lungs, it lets the haze that’s filled your mind clear.

You need to run, you need to get out of here.

You need to return to Gunner. You don’t need to be getting involved with these four strangers. Who just so happen to be extremely handsome and muscular.

You don’t trust them. Not one bit. How do you know they aren’t Miasma, here to find out what you know and finish the job?

As quietly as you can you leave the warmth of the linen sheets and step on to the plush carpet. Creeping towards the now shut door as you gently pry it open. You have little time to get out the cabin before it’s too late.

You cringe as the door scrapes against the carpet. The sound is practically deafening in the silence you’ve created in the master bedroom. You pause for a moment, convinced the men from downstairs have heard you.

When you don’t hear the thunder of steps up the stairs, you begin your mission to escape. Moving as silently as you can along the carpeted floor. Hoping to get out before they find the first aid kit.

“What are we doing price?” Ghost finds himself asking in a hushed voice as the entirety of the 141 congregate in the kitchen.

“Looking for a first Aid kit lieutenant.” Price answers and returns to searching the cupboards.

Simon wants to scream at his captain. He wants to complain to his team. He wants to know why they’re entertaining this girl. No matter how pretty she may be, she’s lying about something. Simon hasn’t got this far in his career without being an expert in body language.

Price busies himself with rifling through the cupboards. Thankful that Laswell keeps all safe houses fully stocked.

His hands brush past plates and cans and glasses before coming to the last cupboard. Finally his hands grasp the large green box, packed with medical supplies.

When his gaze moves from the first aid kid, he sees his men staring out him. Looking confused at the sight.

“I’ve got Laswell doing background on the insignia on the jacket. I want to see she’s lying. Looking at those so called injuries will do that.” Price tells the team as he checks the first aid box before taking it upstairs.

It seems the rest of the team h av e a permanent frown on their face.

“I just don’t think any of this is right.” Ghost mutters. “It all just feels wrong.”

“Aye, she looks so frail and small. How can a lass like that escape a group of armed men?” Soap questions.

“She’s either insanely lucky or has some sort of special training.” Gaz voices to the others.

The thought permeates within their heads. Are you some sort of secret agent? Able to escape from armed men at hidden facilities?

The sound of a creak breaks them from their thoughts.

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

twisted sprout x distractor reader x twisted cosmo?

bonus points if reader's a little overly cocky and gets Got (maybe we get like. kidnapped or something. whatever you think would fit best in the getting got category [: )

...no this isn't inspired by me doing stupid stuff while distracting and getting punished for it. why would you think that noo /j

[20]: In The End

Not much to say right now. Not in the best mood after something happened, but I still hope you enjoy.

You were known as the chaotic one of the group.

Reckless, mischievous, you name it.

Honestly, no one really knew why you were the distractor, but they just went along with it because who else did they have to distract?

So here you were, skipping your way along the dark halls, your mood completely cheerful despite the disturbing sounds of the monsters chasing you.

The smile on your face was as bright as it would be on a sunny day, strangely enough.

You weren't one to strategize either. The instant you found a speed candy on the floor? Eat it in an instant.

Chocolate bars? Sounds good! Bottles of pop? Sure thing! No saving whatsoever.

You were literally the embodiment of idiotic.

And you liked it.

What was wrong about being stupid? Everyone is, so might as well come to terms with it.

You giggled, rounding the corner and making a U-turn around the twisteds.

Some say you’re confusing. Some say you’re drunk. Some say you’re crazy. (Which you are, but focus!)

You had the most positive,(Yes, even more positive than Poppy) yet deranged look on your situation, is what people said.

You didn’t care if there were monsters chasing you. You didn’t care if you were possibly going to die soon. After all, if you're going to go out, might as well have a little fun while doing so!

No you weren’t suicidal, just…you tried to make the best of your situation.

Was this place causing you to go insane? Probably. Who wouldn’t, after seeing their friends die in front of them one by one?

Ah, you remember now. Vee being mauled by Twisted Pebble, Boxten’s bones being crushed by Twisted Goob’s grip, Astro being killed by…well, Twisted Astro. Or who you like to call, the leech.

Their deaths were so traumatizing, you say with absolutely no emotion whatsoever, like you’re being sarcastic, but you’re not.

What reason would you have to be?

You didn’t really hate anyone here, not Vee or Glisten with their pride, Rodger with his nosiness, or even Shrimpo with his yelling. He had good reason to be bitter.

You heard a screech behind you, a warning. With practiced grace, you twirled around the easily avoidable tendril sprouting up from the floor, not even staining your shoes with the black ichor.

As you skipped on, avoiding a swipe of a smaller black claw, you wondered how the twisteds were even dumber than you, to the point they would just run around in circles after you and not even cut through the middle. They also wouldn’t jump or step over obstacles, nor knock them aside. They reminded you of homing missiles, but worse.

They acted as if a bean bag was a brick wall, and it was funny, yet extremely confusing. It bugged you to the point of insanity.(Not really, you're still sane but you know)

So you entertained the thought that maybe they were all blind. Their eyes were blood-red, so it would make sense that their vision is messed up, but that doesn’t explain how the amalgamation that was once a sweet and loving dog could now see you across half the entire floor, but couldn’t see you over a colorful kids table, despite towering over you.

It didn’t make any sense. It was like every single obstacle ever was an invisible wall for them. And you thought you were dumb…

You hummed, breaking out of your train of thought. Your eyes widened as you came face to face with a wall, smacking straight into it.

You could feel a headache beginning to form as you fell backwards towards the ground, hitting your head on the painfully hard concrete. You could hear the slightest crack and you cried out, immediately curling yourself up and hands shooting up to your head.

It���felt warm. Weirdly warm, and sticky.

Oh.

You already knew what it was.

You pressed down hard on your scalp as the twisteds closed in on you. You’d go out quick, at least.

The only thing you saw before it was all gone was two blurry faces staring down at you, hissing and groaning filling the air.

[shiningstages]

Getting White Day Tsukasa first try, and seeing the newer cards on JP, really makes me wanna write fanfic again..........

[gomzdrawfr]

The night was quiet as the Captain stepped out into the open air, fresh out from a mission, the sharp chill of the morning bit at his skin but he hardly noticed due to the exhaustion. The sky was dark, save for the faint halo of the light from the idling helicopter in the distance, painting the floor and wall in hues of turquoise.

There he was, Nikolai.

He leaned casually against the aircraft, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers, one foot propped, his broad shoulders relaxed. His jacket was unzipped just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of his chest and all the hairy goodness beneath.

Even from a distance, Price could see the way Nik’s eyes were fixed on him.

Always waiting. Always there. Always steadfast. Just like he always had been. 

The first few snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, mixing with the faint fog of Nikolai’s breath curling in the air and the smoke from his cigarette. Nik looked hot—there was no other word for it.

Okay, maybe there were few more words to describe the love of his life, but John couldn’t give a single bollock digging through the dictionary now. Not when Nik was standing there with his arms crossed, black hair slicked back yet slightly tousled. He looked like he belonged on the cover of one of those old male model magazines he’d been caught sneaking glances at in secret.

Something giddy and nearly childish bubbled in John’s chest, like spotting a bright candy from afar, something precious you’ve waited for your entire life. Before he knew it, he began walking. Boots crunched against the concrete beneath each step as his hands moved almost automatically, shrugging his helmet off, letting it fall to the ground with no care as his walk turned into a small jog, then a run. 

His goal was clear: to kiss his hot pilot husband.

By the time he reached Nik, his breath was shallow and his chest was heaving with something that wasn’t exertion, excitement maybe, but he stopped just short, his gaze lifting to meet Nik’s. 

Price paused, just for a second. He always did, right? Even after all this time, after a hundred kisses and then some, Price always had that fleeting moment of hesitation. A combination of gratitude, love and guilt stirred inside his chest. Nik had always waited, even now, through all the years it took John to come around, to gently removing and breaking down his defenses brick by brick, until he’d finally admitted what they both knew was inevitable. 

But tonight, John thought it wasn’t the nerves holding him back.

It was the way Nik was looking at him, staring at him like he was the centre of the universe, with those dark eyes softened and the corner of his eyes crinkled with adoration. The kind of look that had John’s knees buckled, the kind of look that screamed worship, that he was enough, that he was loved for exactly who he was. 

For Nik, he was roaming his eyes around John, observing the way the snowflakes gathered around John’s hair, blending with the white strands already there, the way they aligned and caught in the faint light made it shimmer like constellations, presenting John- his husband, in an otherworldly look. It was as if every star and planet had aligned to bring the John Price here, shaped from stardust gathered from the debris of the abyss and sent John crashing into his heart like a meteor.

If Nikolai too, could see himself as one of the stars in a galaxy of thousands, colliding with John to create the brightest supernova, perhaps then, he could erase the darker thoughts that lingered behind his love.

Nikolai had always thought himself akin to the black hole, pulling everything he loved into himself, consuming it with a selfish, unrelenting hunger. It was, and still is, a daily struggle to fight the unforgiving part of himself that believed he wasn’t worthy of Price. 

Nik leaned down slightly, nudging his nose against John’s, hearing the faint hitch in John’s breath, the reaction that always pulled a smile to his lips. The way Nik moved his nose to John’s cheek was slow and intimate, pressing lightly into the softness of the skin. Even as Nikolai can feel the way John breathed him in, the faint tang of ash and smoke with a mix of engine oil, the smell that reminded John something of warmth, of home, Nikolai still couldn’t quite shake off the pang of guilt. 

Nikolai wanted John wholly, completely, all of him, and that weight of need and want felt almost cruel. To love someone so much that it physically hurt, to want someone to the point of selfishness–it was hauntingly beautiful and unbearable at the same time. 

“Kissing under the first snow of the year,” Nik murmured, the cigarette between his fingers sizzled and forgotten, his voice rough with affection and a hint of the usual tease, batting off the uneasiness of his heart with humor, “like boys in a love story…звезда моя”. John huffed, rolling his eyes as his cheeks burned, a cute shade of red dusting his skin like apples. Nik almost cooed when the snowflake landed on his cheek melted away instantly, the heat of his embarrassment clear as day.

John didn’t bother responding, wanted to kiss Nik stupid as he leaned forward. Yet, as their lips were barely brushing and their eyes closed, the moment dissolved into something softer. Their breaths mingled, warm against their cold skin, and when they finally closed the distance–the kiss was slow and tender, like they were learning how to kiss all over again, and their worries faded away like the snow melting on the ground. 

Nik kissed the same way he loved, completely, boundlessly, consuming, and John allowed himself to be swallowed whole, to be taken completely by the gravity of Nik’s affection.

Because if there was any man that John would start a war for–even a cosmic one at that, it would always be him, and only him, his Nikolai. 

When they finally pulled back, with more snowflakes gathered around their head and their foreheads pressed together. Nik breathed out a quiet chuckle, “you’re blushing, John.”

John groaned, shaking his head, voice low yet filled with fondness. “Cheeky as ever, Nik.”

Merry Christmas Nekros!! I hope you like this lil present I wrote based on the breathtaking art :D special thanks to my friends and @karlachismylife for the help and inspiration :) ho ho ho to the nikprice community too!!

Returning from an op and immediately running to kiss your hot pilot husband under the first snow of the year 🌨️🚁

[dizzybizz]

mostly jrwi riptide but also @bardace's oc forts is here

[thegreatyin]

current fallen london fandom experience feels like im standing at the corner of a party holding a sippy cup going. i thought firmament has been pretty fun and intriguing so far

[g1ngerbeer]

low quality link click doodle dump

[charles-leclerc-official]

I think if you don't want someone ranting about you to the entire world on radio you shouldn't do things worth ranting about. Just a thought.

[imerian]

☆ Valentino Rossi collage ☆

*ﾟ*⁠.☆✷*ﾟ*⁠.⁠✧☆✷*ﾟ*⁠.☆⁠｡⁠•̀⁠✧*｡⁠*ﾟ*⁠.⁠✧

[river-fisher]

The Real Bobby Fulbright and Morality

Hey hey! I am back with yet another analysis post, this time focusing on Fulbright's morality! I often see fanon interpretations of him - that are super fun! - but I also feel like they focus on the positive aspects of his personality and avoid the darker ones, so I will be rambling about that under the cut! Enjoy B)

Before we get into specific examples, it is worth pointing out that this analysis is based off of:

The theory that Dual Destinies didn't originally have the phantom as the main villain.

That the phantom was included later in the story after several chapters were already finished.

The theory that Dual Destinies was going to deal with darker themes before it got altered.

Now, although I have more detailed arguments on why I believe in these points, this post is not about that (Though if anyone wants to hear my thoughts about it, I'd love to yap about that in another post ^^). In a nutshell, Fulbright's behaviour changes in between cases, in a way that suggests that his character was revamped. I believe that Fulbright was originally written without the phantom in mind.

Thus! While his character might've had his purpose shifted, if my belief is correct, then The Monstrous Turnabout - the first case with Fulbright - is the most accurate glimpse into what the real Bobby Fulbright was like. Yes, we are meta analysing it up in this house!

Via the assumption that The Monstrous Turnabout has the original idea for the real Fulbright, we can make some interpretations of what he's like, despite the canon saying it was the phantom impersonating him! ^^

So, onto actual examples (lovingly chosen from my transcript) and analysis!

Starting off strong, we first meet Fulbright with him wanting to arrest Apollo and Athena. Yes, there is the potential reasoning of "disturbing a crime scene", but the lawyers had only just gotten there. They had done nothing wrong. That is unlawful arrest! Them coming to the crime scene had several explanations, and yet Fulbright won't even hear them out:

[???] “Hey, who are you and what are you doing here? This is a crime scene!”

[AJ] “And who are YOU? Are you with the police?”

[???] “I asked first! Who are YOU and what are you doing here?! On second thought... I’m placing you under arrest for disturbing a crime scene!”

He prioritizes lunch over actual, genuine justice here, not even bothering to hear them out. He only changes his tune after finding out that they're lawyers. Even then, he doesn't allow them to investigate. Though that is what all Ace Attorney detectives do, I think the subtle threat that comes afterwards is important.

[AJ] “Ack! Under arrest?! B-B-But...”

[???] “Save it for the boys back at HQ! Now, come quietly or else! I don’t want to be late for lunch!”

Yes, he never pulls out a gun in the series (besides attempting to do so in Turnabout for Tomorrow as the phantom), but I believe that the inherent threat and power that Fulbright holds in this situation is worth mentioning. Apollo's assumption that Fulbright could pull out a gun is also quite telling in my opinion. Fulbright is a cop at the end of the day.

[BF] “Cease and desist at once, or you’ll have to deal with my little friend here!” { Hand goes to his holster }

[AJ] “Ack!” (Yikes! Is he reaching for his...?!)

[BF] “In justice we trust!” { Shows badge }

[AJ] “...!” (Phew, it’s just his badge.)

[BF] “This door simply will not open! We’ve tried and tried, but it won’t budge! It’s an essential part of the culture found in this manor, so we can’t blow it up either!”

The next concerning aspect I've found, is the seemingly normalized use of excessive force. The only reason they're not blowing up the door is because of its cultural significance. That is insane! It can be argued that it's not Fulbright's decision, however, the lack of reaction from everyone involved signifies to me that this is the norm.

With this moment, I wish to point out Fulbright's black & white thinking. I acknowledge that this is consistent for all detectives in the series, but it is a piece of characterization that is very important - Fulbright is very quick to call Tenma a villain, evil, a fiend. Thinking that someone is guilty and thinking that someone is evil are quite different imo.

[AJ] “So you still think Mayor Tenma is responsible?”

[BF] “That’s right! Damian Tenma is an evil fiend who must be banished from this world! Now, take my hand and together we will defeat this evil!”

[BF] “I won’t fall for that, you shameless rascal! I only help good little boys and girls!”

In general, Fulbright tends to think in an us vs them mentality - the people he likes are good, while the ones he dislikes are bad. He helps good people and puts away bad people. In a sense, yes, that's what a cop is supposed to do.

[BF] “Ha ha! My investigations are as thorough as they are foolproof, or my name isn’t Fulbright! I vow to resign immediately if I ever make a false arrest!”

However, this line paints a grim picture. Fulbright implies that he has never made a false arrest. That is statistically impossible, and implies that he has not only made false arrests before, he has also managed to get them convicted! The fact that the first time we meet him, he tries to arrest us only amplifies this point!

[BF] “What?! Are you questioning my sense of justice?!”

When he is confronted with an argument against his beliefs, he hides behind justice. In a way, he hides behind his badge, the very item that allows him to make the decisions on who is being painted as guilty, and who is not. In fact, he doesn't even question his beliefs.

[BF] “Prosecutor Blackquill! We’ve had enough of your hijinks! The foundation of justice is fair play, and you are in serious violation of that!”

And finally, the so-called 'jolts of justice'. I've seen arguments in the past claiming that the real Bobby Fulbright would never use electrical shocks on Blackquill. I politely disagree. Considering all the previous examples, I think it aligns with his behavioural patterns and is the epitome of his morality.

And thus, I would like to briefly propose my personally crafted theory about Dual Destinies: The game was originally going to delve into darker themes, and Fulbright's corruption was at the center of that.

Yes, Fulbright believes in justice, in good and bad. He has good intentions. But at the end of the day, he is a cop that holds power over others and justifies his wrongdoings with... well, justice. So long as he believes that he is doing the right thing, he is willing to reach for extremes.

I think this is often missed due to Fulbright's comical mess ups and overall cheery and charming demeanour. The characters don't really react to his more... extreme decisions either.

Consider a world where the phantom was not the main twist of the series, but some aspects remained. Such as... The tampering with evidence... Abusing police position to cover up a crime... Framing innocent suspects... It fits into the previously showcased negative traits of his.

Ergo, the real Bobby Fulbright might not be as justice-driven as many may believe. There are many details that tend to get overlooked when it comes to him, especially in fanon. Which is fine and good! It is comforting to think of a policeman that does his job properly. However, I also find this darker side absolutely fascinating and worthy of discussion.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this silly analysis post! Do feel free to argue or ask questions, I love a good debate and I love yapping <3

[rolandkaros]

some thoughts on doping

people (fans, players, etc.) who complain about special treatment for top players need to deep the fact that the qualms they have with the way that jannik and iga's cases were treated are barely related to the actual cases at hand and more to do with the fact that they believe others have been hard done by harsher treatment. which is an important complaint to verbalize, but directing that frustration at the players you believe are getting "special treatment" is part of what allows that unfairness to continue, because nobody is calling out the root of the problem which comes directly from the organizations in charge of actually managing these cases.

inevitably world #1s will have the money, resources, team, etc. to find the source of the positive test, to justify themselves, to prove their innocence, etc. and while i completely understand the frustration that not everyone has those resources i also don't believe there's any reason for somebody to not use such resources if they have them at their disposal.

so yes, i think it's fair to push for more player support within the realm of doping, but acting as though jannik or iga have done something wrong for utilizing the tools they had is kind of comical to me.

and there's the other side of the coin, wherein these people truly believe these associations are actively covering for guilty players. which brings me to another important point that a complete disbelief in the integrity of the system does absolutely nothing unless it is acted upon. which is to say, if you truly believe that jannik and iga were guilty of doping and the "special treatment" you mention is implying that the atp or wta or itia or wada covered for them, that is a very serious accusation which undermines the integrity of the sport of tennis as a whole. that may sound melodramatic, but i truly think that if you believe these associations are corrupt when it comes to doping (as proposals of "special treatment" in the case of guilt would suggest), i believe you are obligated to advocate against it in a much more substantial way than posting about it on social media. it would be concerning to me if people truly had zero trust for the integrity of organizations like wada and the itia, but continued to consume the sport without raising a question...until a player they don't like gets a positive test.

in all honestly, i don't like how either of the cases were handled. i have problems with both. but i also know that in both cases, they were cleared with no significant fault or negligence as the final verdict (i know wada stepped in with jannik but that's still up in the air so for now i'm disregarding that). i have no reason (or desire) to believe either of them intentionally doped. i do think the main reason they were able to "wrap-up" their cases as quickly and efficiently as they did was due in part to their statuses as top level players. but i don't believe that the verdict was subjectively dependent on it. and i can disagree with how the cases were handled, AND i can say that i think all players deserve better treatment in these processes, AND i can still maintain that i trust the verdict of both cases.

shifting focus slightly, i do think there's a reality where organizations like the atp and wta are self-serving. and it sounds really harsh and unsympathetic, but it also makes sense. the atp and wta have responsibilities as associations to promote tennis, to protect it not only as a sport but also as a brand. the atp spent the entire first half of this year basically promoting jannik as the second coming of christ: obviously they're going to shit their pants when they find out about a positive doping test. it's in their best interest to do everything they can to preserve their own image, to only release such information if they had been completely sure of his guilt. and likewise, it was in their best interest to keep that information quiet even once his innocence was ruled. i'll say myself: it didn't feel right to me that it was kept quiet as long as it was. i do think that, once a case has been handled, it should still be released as public information. but i understand why the atp didn't want to release the information, and i understand why they might not care as much if it was someone ranked outside the top 100 or someone who's never won a tour-level tournament. like i said, it sounds harsh and unsympathetic, but that's business. i don't think it's just but i do think it makes sense.

iga getting a split ban is another example of this. granted, i don't know exactly who decides how punishments are implemented, so it's possible that the wta had no involvement this, but i don't think it was coincidental that the split ban allowed her to play at the finals and bjkc. it makes sense for the wta as a brand and an organization to advocate for her to be able to play those events. [VERY IMPORTANT EDIT: not going to delete what i already said for the sake of transparency, but i've been told that this actually was completely coincidental. a player can return to tour after a provisional suspension as soon as they submit an appeal. so iga was suspended, submitted the appeal, returned to play the finals & bjkc, and then was given a one month ban. the provisional suspension also counted towards the ban.] equally, it makes sense for them to release a statement supporting her, even though they are meant to be unbiased.

so it's not fair. it's not just. but it's not a problem with the integrity of the players, it's a problem with whole procedure. but i think too many people are quick to jump at players like iga and jannik, who yes, got off pretty easy, over something which ultimately has very little to do with them. they showcase the symptoms of underlying problems, but they are not the cause of those problems themselves. and people who rush to blame them need to either evaluate the true source and target of that anger, or they need to have a very real conversation about their trust in organizations such as wada and the itia which truly are meant to be just and fair, without awarding that same trust to organizations like the atp and wta whose concerns are far less objective.

[frameconfessions]

I don't think the Technocyte Coda "boys" are the original On-Lyne boys. I think the originals are long dead and these things are cloned from leftover DNA like hairbrushes and things like that (like one of Amir's datamined emails mentions in the mall). We know the Orokin like trying to do longevity experiments and cloning experiments later on in the timeline and if Gregory V is Alad V's ancestor, the motivations would certainly line up.

[renjunnipeikko]

so just realized genshin wiki has officially labeled Anfortas as a member of the Alberich clan and not to be the “um actually-” guy but just know that nowhere is that confirmed. that’s an assumption based off two bits of information: that we know for a fact Anfortas was elected regent after King Irmin fell, and that Kaeya’s father told him that their clan were the regents. I personally always assumed that this meant Kaeya’s father was giving him false (or most likely, delusion) information, and was actually referring to Chlotar’s creation of the Abyss Order. perinheri, however, gives us the tidbit that the Alberichs were a clan of knights and therefore can be a point in favor of Anfortas being part of them

[bredforloyalty]

i'm not sure whether i should go back to this but mutuals, even just like, followers ((anyone i have even the slightest level of familiarity with)), your requests are respected for You i'll trigger tag anything. for Anonymous i will do nothing

[revvethasmythh]

Share your reunion widobrave thoughts please?? Only if you want to but I would love to hear them!

Apologies for how long this took to reply to! Most of that time has been spent trying to figure out how to phrase this in a way that doesn't sound utterly deranged, though conceptually, I understand it kind of is. So, for formality's sake, I am now donning my shippers cap, and am not to be held liable for making more thoughtful/thought out meta on this topic atm. Currently, we are simply living in the Widobrave Enrichment Zone™️.

Okay, with that disclaimer out of the way, let's continue!

Essentially, my widobrave thoughts re: the reunion are pretty deeply tied to whoever said during m9 reunited two-shot that Caleb and Veth were behaving like a divorced couple sharing custody of Luc, because it was a very funny, on-point comparison considering Veth would literally take Luc all the way to Rexxentrum (with Yeza holding down the fort at home, presumably, while they were both gone) regularly enough that Veth was stated as probably keeping spare clothes at Caleb's place. Like Caleb gets every other weekend with Luc and Veth or something. And that vibe to the Luc-Caleb relationship has persisted even seven years down the line to excellent effect. Like, I have derived an incredible amount of joy from Caleb's extremely concerned, angry, and fairly paternal treatment of Luc during the one-shot that really delivered to me the essence of "Caleb is Luc's father with partial custody and suddenly has to take emergency custody of The Child when he wasn't expecting to."

Like I said, none of this is necessarily meant to be productive, thoughtful meta, but it has brought me a great deal of joy and enrichment in my environment nonetheless. And, really, what else can we ask of our joyful shipper's minds but that?