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yandere-wishes · 9 months

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He's Just Ken

Summary: You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside.

Author's note: I condone neither patriarchy nor matriarchy. But I do love exploring different forms of mental exhaustion and extreme emotional dependency.

Warnings: Mental abuse, dark mental headspace, mentions of suicide and self-harm (only if you read between the lines), yandere behavior, yandere Ken,

Not every Barbie has a Ken. Not one for herself anyway. Every Barbie knows a Ken, but that Ken most likely belongs to her friend, or her neighbor, or one of the other Barbies. Not every Barbie has a Ken, but every Barbie knows a Ken. You know one too, one with sandy hair and ocean eyes. And a look that longs for something more. You know a Ken who keeps his heart from breaking by crossing his fingers and praying to the Malibu sun. You know a Ken who's only happy if a certain Barbie looks his way. Or rather you knew. This was before the world fell apart. This was before he destroyed it.

Ken returned without Barbie and the universe began to crack. It's fine you thought. It's fine you hoped. Ken -That Ken, the one who waited on the beach for hours on end until his Barbie walked by- returned from the real world preaching sermons on how the Kens were better, superior, the rightful rulers of Barbieland. How they didn't need the Barbies, how they no longer needed to settle for being treated as anything less than perfect. How they needn't be number two any longer. Ken returned without Barbie and the universe wept.

You've always known the real world was a messed up place. It had become evident when the thoughts started to creep in. That was years ago-albeit you'll admit you have no idea if Barbie years and human years aligned- years since you started to feel like a constant failure. Years since that harrowing voice began screeching endless dreadful thoughts into your cranium. Notions that festered your mind and heart, tiny maggots that chewed away at your soul. There was always something wrong and it was somehow always your fault. Then came the pain. Horizontal pangs that shot across your arm. Always in the same spot, always in a cluster of three. Barbies don't feel pain as intensely as humans, at least they're not supposed to.

You worried for your human back then. You truly did. But you were always too scared to leave Barbieland. Never brave enough to go find her. She's fine you hope...you doubt it though.

You also refused to go see Weird Barbie. Too scared of being labeled as anything less than perfect. So long as these thoughts merely remained inside you and no outward defects began to show, you would be fine. You could just pretend like everything was as perfect as it always had been.

Ken came back from the real world unscratched. Yet his words hit a chord within every other Ken. They began to take over. The Barbies were reduced to accessories. Pretty little things that clung to their lovers. Dressed in short skirts and maid outfits. Turned into what they weren't.

Ken destroyed what once was perfect. Yet all you could think as you watch the pillars of your homeland cripple and your friends descend into madness. Was how utterly beautiful he was.

The world turned upside down.

Barbieland fell.

Kendome rose.

And yet as everything the Barbies had worked all so hard to build came crumbling down. As your friends and neighbors began to lose themselves and submit to a tyrannical patriarchy. You found yourself utterly unaltered. Your world had been destroyed long ago. This was just another calamity that you would fake your way through. It would be easy, a lifetime of practice finally paying off. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, no one would notice.

No one was supposed to notice...

Ken found you on the beach one night. A day or two after the hostile Ken takeover. He walked up behind you out of breath as if he'd been running.

The bonfire crackles, a warning, and a love song. Until now you'd only ever existed in his sideview. An afterthought as he impaled his heart and called it love. You had burned yourself in his rays and called it love. You're convinced neither of you knows what love truly is. The moon's rays dance as you two sit side by side. In the distance, you see Blue Mermaid Barbie and Mermaid Ken share a tender kiss. An unparalleled sight.

Ken sits next to you. Eyes following your every move. Scanning every dip and curve of your plastic corpse. He's just Ken you remind yourself with an uneasy breath. He's just Ken, nothing to fear. Although you're not entirely sure if those old ideologies shine through. He's Ken but somehow he's become unstable at worst, flammable at best. Something radioactive ticks inside of him waiting to detonate. Waiting to make the world feel a trace of his pain.

Ken's fingers intertwine with yours as waves of helplessness crash across your body. You were created to be ethereal yet all you see is perfection molded in the shape of Ken's face. He leans in, carelessly placing his chin in the subspace of your neck as he whispers. "I see the way you look at me" his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. You flinch, in time with the breaking of the waves. "I know you want me" Reality blurs when Ken touches you. He pulls you between his legs as his lips kiss the back of your neck. His fingers run up and down your arm as if he's trying to memorize your shape, your soul, you. It's romantic you think but all you feel is puka shell shards stabbing your flesh. You know he's dreamed of this intimacy with the other Barbie.

you wonder if in his eyes you are merely a ghost. One he resurrected with desperate love and a broken heart. You wonder if he sees her, feels her, wants her. Yet he'll settle for you. The next best thing. The other stereotypical Barbie. Somewhere along the line, your own voice sounds, foreign to you. He's talking, his voice is smooth like silk. Fragile like window glass after a bombing. He asks you something, something you've dreamed of for all so long. He asks you to be his bride wife. You agree despite how degrading it sounds.

What once was a pink haven of fun and joy has now been turned into a mess of horses and black sunglasses. Barbie's dreamhouse is now Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House. You feel like an intruder, like a traitor. You feel loved, wanted, needed. Someone once told you that truths can co-exist. It's all you can think to save yourself from going mad.

There's an unspoken easiness that comes with being with Ken. The way he's always around. His hands never leave you, tracing stars on your arms, running through your hair. He wants his presence to be felt.

"I like this" you confess one night as you rest your head on his arm. "I've always felt...less than perfect. Like I couldn't be good at anything like the other Barbies." Ken laughs and it feels like the stars have cladded you in their warmth. He pinches your nose with a soft smile. "I know the feeling," he mutters and you feel your heart crack. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm here and so long as you're with me. We're both going to be perfect." You snuggle into his chest as you close your eyes. "Ken and Barbie" you sing, a mantra, a prayer. One for a better future. One for a happy life.

You have a dream house. Had one at least. You sometimes wonder which Ken lives there now. You wonder if his Barbie feels your presence radiating off the walls and the floor and the heart-shaped night lamp you once treasured. You certainly feel Stereotypical Barbie's presence echoing from every corner. You see her ghost whenever Ken pulls you onto his lap to watch a horse flick. Infuriated and distressed. You wonder if she's angry because you didn't join the rebellion. You wonder if she's angry because she thinks you took Ken away. You see her ghost again, feel her between the pause of two breaths. She glitches and fades as you hide your face in Ken's mink coat.

"I don't like being apart from you" Ken claims as he lays your body on top of his. One hand dangling off the couch the other curling your loose locks. To Ken a touch away feels like being galaxies apart. You kiss his chin and his cheek and his nose and finally his lips. It feels like a dream. One you refuse to wake up from.

Ken is gold.

Unmetable and solid.A kaleidoscope of hope

He has so much potential rotting inside of him.

Ken is gold.

Beautiful and everlasting.

His value lies in how pretty he is. How good of an accessory he's willing to be.

You wonder if he's sick of being gold.

You felt Barbie's ghost again today. This time looming and aggravated. She wants her presence acknowledged. She has something she needs to say. Ken was out, one of the rare times you two spend apart. Something about a beach off and rock paper scissors.

You wonder if a ghost haunting is their way of showing love.

You wonder if the Kens starting a rebellion is their way of showing love.

Barbie talks for ten minutes straight. You cling to every word, you forgot how much you missed the Other Barbie's voice. It's in the final beat of her sentence that you notice she's not a ghost. Not this time. This is Barbie, the girl who had been your friend since the day you left your box. "Help me" she pleads as she grabs your shoulders. "We need to fix this", you turn your head and smile a broken smile. "I can't" you confess.

It's easy to undo brainwashing. Even easier to reinstate it. What Stereotypical Barbie and her friends can undo. You can simply redo. Even Barbies prefer ease, a few simple half-truths sung into the right ear at the right time. And the once normalized Barbies are running back to their Kens. You turn, in the rays of the golden sun, you see Barbie. Her eyes hold glimmers of unshed tears. She wears her betrayal on her pink sleeve. "Why" she whispers as her fingers reach out to hover over your heart before she retracts them. You think you may have burned her. You think she's afraid of being plagued by your depravity.

You feel like a traitor, like a monster. A creature made of pink lipgloss and shattered vows. should Kendom fall, you know your delicate dream life will fall with it. You stare into her eyes. And the words that leave your mouth feel so rehearsed, yet you swear it's the first time you've uttered them. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you both when you went through hell. I'm sorry I wasn't there when the world collapsed and you ran from the debris. I'm sorry I can't help you pick up the pieces and rebuild what once was yours.., ours. I'm sorry I'm so selfish".

Immortal hearts are cursed with the loneliest beats. Maybe that's why the other Barbies never bothered to ponder their endless existence. Maybe that's why the Kens always clung to false promises of love. Maybe saying I love you is the same as saying I'm letting you go. Stereotypical Barbie has already reached this conclusion, you know this. For a fraction of a juncture, she looks into your eyes. Trying to reason and plea and hope all in the same breath. When you say nothing more her eyes shine with grief as she turns on her heels and runs for the hilled house. You reach out to her, yet only grasp the warm Malibu breeze.

What do you call a person such as yourself?

Coward...

That sounds about right.

Ken kisses your neck, and it feels like lava sprinkling along your skin. You feel like a defeated soldier drowning in a sea of guilt. Survivor's guilt a voice echo inside your head familiar yet all so distant. A ghost from a past life or a current one unseeable to you. "I have it too" the voice replies. You wonder if it's the voice of an angel or a mortal girl. You don't tell him about the Barbie resistance or how easily they can reverse the brainwashing. You work best alone anyway.

You hear the word death replay in the background as Ken bites a sensitive spot. A faint noise, a haunting whisper. You hear the word death and it sounds more familiar than the name Barbie that has rolled off your tongue every day since birth.

Ken harbors you inside the once was dreamhouse like a forbidden secret. Sometimes the skirts feel too short. Sometimes the world feels too heavy. You always feel the eyes of the other Kens on you. You think Ken planned it that way to show the Ken world who you belong to. Just last week he took you to the beach. Both of you wearing matching pastel blues and silver earrings. Other Ken was there also adorned in pastel blue and silver earrings. You see the twitch in your Ken's jaw, the icy glare when Other Ken waves to you. "Let's go," he says, commandes really. He throws you over his shoulder and you're heading back the way you came. "I really wanted to see Mermaid Barbie..." You pout. "No no, you wanted to see a movie remember?" Ken corrects you, to be honest, he does that often. You're starting to doubt you even know your own wants anymore.

Today Ken has you dressed in a pink and white dress. You remember Setrotypical Barbie use to love this dress. You run around the kitchen cooking a pretend dinner. You really want to go shipping, to pick out something you'd like. A rose pink Lolita skirt and a matching button-up. You really want to die. Although that's normal you always want to go shopping. You always want to die. You wonder if Ken will ever let you pick out your own dresses. You leave his plate in front of him as you loop your arms around his neck. You rest your chin on his head as he pulls you closer. Not picking your own clothes is a small price to pay for the intimacy you've craved for far too long.

"Never has there ever been a girl as pretty" Ken whispers as he relishes in your presence.

"Do you have any idea what you are?" He rasps, his lips hovering over yours. You're both sitting on the bed, watching the sun die for the day.

Ken is a monster. At least that's what you're supposed to think. You have something in your mind something that squirmes around in what can only be described as reason. To call it wits and a conscious would be an overstatement. Lucide is a better word. Weak and brittle yet somehow still standing. Deep inside, your heart refuses to call Ken anything other than hero, savior, salvation.

"I'm yours" it's the first truth that's left your mouth in a long long time. You cup his cheeks and kiss him with all the doom and gratitude that lies within you. And Wow Ken tastes like mint ice cream and shooting stars. Like dead dreams that lay on the tip of your tongue. He's the beach at night and the evermore gardens during the day. He's everything good and confusing and painful and sweet. Ken nibbles your ear, playfully, and coos sweet words into your soul. Spinning tales of how you'll be together forever. You soak in his presence, rolling his name around in your head. You keep your head filled with him before your own thoughts give you a heart attack.

You're Barbie but now you are so much more than that. You're his Barbie. Ken's Barbie. Damaged yet simultaneously perfect. And he's perfect too, mesmerizing when the sun's rouge rays kiss his pretty face, bathing him in golden ichor.

You wonder if perfection and imperfection have always been in love.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you think of the little girl playing with you. Albit she isn't a little girl anymore, is she? Kids grow up. clawing and biting through the painful transformation. Sometimes it leaves their minds fragmented. Sometimes it leaves them less than whole.

Judging by how long it's been, your little girl is grown up by now. You close your eyes and give Ken a final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You hope she's okay, even though you know that can never be true. Being "okay" doesn't seem to be a real thing in this universe.

Because girls are broken and the universe knows this

Because boys are broken and the universe knows this

Because the universe does nothing. Just sits there and watches as life bends and breaks itself over and over again

Barbieland is broken too, imperfect and destroyed.

And so are the two of you.

Yet in the end, it doesn't matter.

For as broken as the world is the most important of things has been resolved.

Ken has his Barbie.

And Barbie has her Ken.

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couldtransitionsaveher · 2 months

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Archetype Exploration: Perfect Soldiers

(Hey, please look at this blog's pinned post before reading this post; it gives a lot of context for the lens I'm looking at these characters through, k thx. also, shoutout to @finalgirl-nihilbliss for guessing the archetype)

CW: Abuse, Projection, Surface-Level Media Analysis

If your comfort character exhibits any of the following symptoms:

constant brooding

face frozen in a perpetual scowl

possession of a "dark past" they don't like to talk about

frequent blank stares into the middle distance

constantly trains for something uncertain

You may have just found yourself in the presence of a Perfect Soldier.

Perfect soldiers are characters who were groomed, often from birth, for the sole purpose of inflicting harm on their fellow man. These characters are efficient, tactically-minded, and above all else, violent. Perfect soldiers will often excel at combat and strategy, but struggle with emotional sensitivity.

Note that just because these characters are violent and closed off now doesn't mean that this is their natural temperament. Often, perfect soldiers have some kind of natural compassion that was stomped out through years of abuse training. This can come in the form of a sole loved one who tragically died, but more often than not, it simply manifests as a soft side sanded away.

If the Perfect Soldier doesn't start that way, who is to blame for their transformation? In sci-fi and fantasy, this transformation is usually caused by a morally corrupt institution built to churn out perfect soldiers (the Jedi Academy, the Galalunan Military Academy, the Space Marine Legions, etc.). Other times, perfect soldiers are groomed raised by a cruel and abusive father figure (Endeavor, Bro Strider, Belos, etc.). Some settings even blend the two by having an institution with a twisted general (think Shadow Weaver from She-Ra).

Typically, if a perfect soldier has a character arc, it's usually one of healing and letting go of their anger. This almost always contains at least two of these three steps in the order of your choosing:

The perfect soldier leaves the institution of their torment, either by circumstance or by excommunication. Once on the outside, they'll typically find that their raw might is irrelevant to their survival, and they'll instead need to rely on their lacking social skills. This exit from the comfort zone will prompt the soldier to learn a lot of people skills, typically leading to a "softening up" of sorts. Note that this doesn't have to be a literal escape from a physical place. Rather, it could just be a character being outside their guardian's zone of influence.

The perfect soldier discovers some imperfection with their guardian/institution. Perhaps there's some kind of inconsistency in its moral values. Other times, the soldier finds a secret the guardian/institution has been covering up. Whatever it is, this will prompt the soldier to question their leaders' infallibility.

The perfect soldier meets a person who shows concern for them in spite of the soldier's outward hostility. This outside party will likely witness or hear about the perfect soldier's tumultuous upbringing and take pity on them. This will likely prompt an attempt to reach out to the soldier, something which may or may not be rejected. Whatever the case, this act compassion will likely stick with the soldier, and prompt them to think about their own worth.

An arc like this usually resolves with a direct confrontation with the abusive mentor(s) who turned them into a weapon of war. If the soldier is a member of the supporting cast, this may come in the form of some heroic self-sacrifice, usually to protect the aforementioned outside party. Alternatively, if the soldier is a protagonist, their confrontation will likely be much more active, and may even be a proper fight. The soldier tends to win this fight either with the power of friendship or compassion but this isn't a strict requirement. If the writers really want to get spicy with it, they might even spare their tormentor, really leaning into the idea of abandoning violence (note that this runs the risk of coming off as a "forgive your abusers" narrative).

Alternatively, the lack of a grand confrontation can be a form of narrative resolution in and of itself. Living well is the best revenge, after all, and showing that our former perfect soldier has moved on to a happier, more peaceful life can be a far stronger statement of growth than a glitzy fight to the death.

(This is the part where I tie this whole thing back into the gimmick of the account. If you just wanted a Trope Talk style summary of the archetype, you've seen all there is to see. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to do your daily clicks.)

Why do you keep submitting this?

So, out of all the characters that I've seen submitted, this is easily the most prolific character archetype. At the time of writing, somewhere between 40-50 characters that have been posted roughly fit this archetype, and that's not including any of the characters I haven't posted yet.

Why do submitters connect this particular trope with trans women so damn much?

Firstly, it's important to consider that in most western fiction, the soldier is an inherently masculine archetype. From the classical epics of the Odyssey and the Iliad, to the superheroes and action stars of modern-day blockbusters, there's a very real conflation between a character's manhood and a character's capacity to do violence. A lot of mainstream military propaganda does the same, suggesting that men who enlist are more "authentically masculine" than those who do. This archetype serves as a critique of that idea; it shows us that this masculine ideal can be, and often is, a soul-crushing experience. In a sense, the idea of transitioning serves as an escape from this image.

Furthermore, it's important to consider what this character arc is actually about: a miserable character discovering that a better life is possible, and making steps to achieve personal peace. Often, these characters are fiercely loyal to the institutions that take advantage of them. These characters are often fine with it because they can't conceive of a better world. Once that's presented to them, that's when they start to leave. Frankly, given that a lot of people still don't end up knowing about trans folks until they're adults, I'm surprised more trans people don't connect to characters like this.

Finally, this arc gets back to the core question at the center of this blog: could transition have saved her? The archetype, in its construction necessitates a level of misery, ergo it implies that the character needs saving. It's no wonder these characters tend to garner a lot of Hurt/Comfort fanfic (Anakin Skywalker alone has more Hurt/Comfort fic than some of my favorite fandoms period). There's an inherent desire for these characters have better lives, and maybe some estrogen could do it.

This is my best guess, anyway. If you have thoughts, feel free to share them.

#archetype exploration #trope analysis #cw abuse #cw projection #cw surface level media analysis #transgender #sorry for taking so long to finish this post #i've been trying to phrase it as delicately as possible

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gz-missfit · 9 months

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So I wanna talk about tazercraft cause their characters are so incredibly interesting to me in the best way possible. To preface this I don't speak a word of Portuguese (I'm learning tho! And have been picking up on sentences a lot more) and my native language isn't English so I may get some things wrong and if I do feel free to correct me!

More under the cut:

I'll put this in 3 separate parts, them individually and then their dynamic!

Mike:

Mike is interesting to me, he's definitely the outward instigator of the 2 when it comes to causing trouble and as many have already pointed out the brains behind a lot of it! He's managed to master the create mod in ways I genuinely never expected them to be used and it's a cute way to say that mine (his wife) was also a cause of that as the goddess of creation. To move to his personality more he's definitely the lead talker in the duo, he's a lot more confident in his voice and speaking in comparison to Pac and can often seem like the lead of the duo, tho this is the cause for people missing his weaknesses! Mike is not a fighter, far from that actually, he freezes in danger and fumbles. His hand tremble when he holds a sword and sees mobs closing in and when big threats appear his whole body turns into ice. He gets overstimulated by danger he couldn't prepare for or was the cause of. Just to name 2 examples here, the first is in the dungeon on the day the timer ran out you could hear him panic, he was a lot more shaky and especially his sword being the cause of injuries to his friends is what made that worse, it went so far that he even typed in chat that he was overwhelmed (fun fact to note is that through all of that he basically vanished from pacs pov but I'll get to that). Another example is when the code showed up to him and pac to drop Richas cow head to them, he later on explicitly state having frozen in fear to i think Fit if i remember correctly and even when ttt was typed in the chat and pac had jumped down to follow Richas to make sure he could teleport Mike was again, nowhere to be seen.

His fear of a fight that revolves around his family and death especially is so interesting to me cause it's obvious that a lot of that comes from Richas first death and how he still blames himself for it, the fear of failing his loved ones again being set deep into his bones whenever a danger for their lives comes up. This is why the prison stream actually was even more interesting to me than I initially expected, because his personality in that sense took a complete 180! Now it's been shown time and time again that Mike has an intense distaste of the federation and hasn't been fond of them for a long time, he's incredibly hostile to them and not scared at all when threatened by them to the point where it's a game for him and he's retaliated with threats that could lead to a ban for him multiple times. Before I move on I think the reason as to why this is is because the federation never showed to kill or take lives, I think that's why Mike has a lot more confidence in confronting them rather than things that have shown to be fatal with all intention of killing. Back to the prison though, Mike's personality to threats definitely took a turn in there, from the moment we saw him he looked pissed beyond believe and his tone was always threatening and almost mocking, his mind quickly was set on getting him and pac out as soon as possible and the realization that Walter Bob, someone who both have seen be the first federation worker that showed them kindness and an interest in what they do after willingly showing up for a haircut is what devastated him. Mike sees Walter as a close friend due to that and it showed because as soon as the realization of Walters long term treatment hit him he did everything to protect the worker he maybe met a handful of times, you could see him get more and more agitated the more the guards hit him and ironically enough I think if Walter hadn't been there idk if he would've killed the guard, but he was so set on finally setting Walter free as well as make sure Pac doesn't have to relive the past they shared that he was willing to do everything to get those 3 out and that all is perfectly encapsulated by his behavior once Walter got taken again, Mike wasn't sad or distraught like Pac was, no, he was fucking fuming to the point where he didn't respond to Pac. Ya know, the person he talks to 24/7 and that's attached to his hip to the point where most of their words are shared telepathically above all. It was obvious that he was angry beyond believe and I'm sure he's got a lot more plans up his sleeve now to get revenge. Cause if there's one thing about Mike it's definitely that you do not want him as your enemy. He may be an outwardly social guy who is definitely more focused on making people laugh and showing off the things he and Pac created but he's still a fugitive and would destroy the world for those he holds dear as they help him feel stronger in the moments where fear does get the better of him.

Pac:

Pac is honestly incredibly fascinating just due to how many levels his character has. He's outwardly the person that appears more shy in comparison to Mike and stumbles as well as gets flustered quick. This has also been the main cause of people seeing him as a weaker player (which also got added onto by how during the earlier days he'd be the one to die a lot) which in turn has caused an interesting dynamic between him and a bunch of the others players because he's far from that. Pac is full on the brawns when it comes to situations that mean fighting for someone's life, his brain goes into focus mode once a life is on the line and there's many examples to show that! Which is why I find it so funny that he often gets handed things due to seeming and behaving weaker than he actually is (main example here being etoiles who not only gave him a custom diamond sword early on which Pac has kept to this day but also the Scythe which he nowadays uses as his only weapon).

Now to the examples of how he can very much carry his own weight In fights and how fascinating it is to watch him, the first big show of him effortlessly carrying himself and doing his best to support others was during the timer dungeon, he was at the front with Bad,Etoiles and Cellbit and even when a lot less geared than those 3 with a weapon that did a lot less damage he didn't go down once even tho he wasn't even holding a totem at any point. It's genuinely impressive with how well he carried himself through that and used movement to attack big groups of mobs from behind only to have vanished out of their sight again before they could corner him. The only time he got truly cornered was at a point where even Etoiles had to back up a little and ended up next to him and the way Pac casually mentioned being fine only to instantly jump at the opportunity of humor through small talk sticks in my brain to this day due to him having stayed mainly silent the whole time before that. The 2 other examples are about Richas and how quick Pac is to defend his son, like I mentioned before when the Code showed up to him, Mike and Richas, Pac instantly jumped into aggressive, he wanted to hit it but fell due to underestimating the jump and as soon as he laid eyes in Richas he became Pacs priority sticking to his sons side until he was Tp'd away and only then returning to the Platform. The same thing happened during the dinner! Every parent except for him crashed when the codes revealed themselves and as much as Richas was quick to start running the speed at which Pac laid eyes on the egg and started to follow right next to him was genuinely mind blowing, he stood at that elevator once Richas left ready to die if it came to it just to make sure one of those things didn't follow him, and as soon as Mike relogged he became Pacs priority with the latter hovering around him will he was loading in.

Now to compare this to the behavior in prison is interesting. Pacs still as good as ever when it comes to putting on a persona to get what he wants but I do believe that the prison brought up a lot of trauma for him, from what I know his time in prison was a lot worse than Mike's and you could hear that through his voice throughout the whole stream. Pacs a physical fighter not a mental one. But in the end he still has that survival instinct, he still knows he needs to get out to protect his family and he doesn't want to be separated from his other half and best friend anymore so he plays sly. The way he stole the keys from the guard genuinely is the most slick maneuver ever and his ability to portrait his behavior in an exaggerated way that makes him seem like no threat at all has worked in his favor multiple times during this too. He was definitely suffering through that whole experience but his determination to protect the ones he loved still slipped through, his hesitancy when he called to the guards not to hit his friends only to have his voice go small once he was physically threatened. He's not at all comfortable when he doesn't have anything to fight back with. Pacs underestimated A LOT, he let's himself be pushed around for bits with a smile and definitely enjoys appearing a bit dumber and less skilled than he is just due to the perks of it and not really caring for bragging about fighting skills when he'd rather show off the project he and Mike have spent time on, only those with a keen eye can see how he's got the heart of a fighter (Etoiles being the first to vocally call this out) he's not weak by any means and definitely a lot smarter than he'd ever admit. He'd die to protect his family and the ones he cares about and would never back down if push came to shove for them.

To sum this all up and not make this too long (which it already is pfff) for both of them together their dynamic is very clearly the "do not separate" but funnily enough Mike is the one who definitely leans onto that more. During each fight where he panicked, got overwhelmed and/or froze he was missing from Pacs pov, they were split apart and it was Mike who was terrified of not being able to hold his own, the same happened in the prison just differently. In the prison Mike definitely put on a cold facade but it broke everytime he asked if they could share the same cell, the underlying fear of him having to fight alone lacing his words through moments like that. This doesn't mean that Pac isn't the same tho! He's just less outwardly vocal about it in comparison and shows it more through actions and looks. It was obvious to hear his distress when he called Mike's name in prison but his constant turning around to see where the other is and his hesitancy to go into areas that implied separation are what showed how hes just as scared as Mike is about loosing the other.

To go more into headcanon and theories I'd like to think of the 2 as 2 hearts and a shared soul, their telepathic communication is borderline Canon at this point and it's obvious that the thought or implications of being separated doesn't sit well at all with either of them. Their bodies and life's are separate but they're still connected by a soul. And whether that's shown through jokes like not being able to be in one spot without the other or through genuine things like Mike having to remind Pac that only he can hear him unless he uses his voice or their ability to flawlessly work around the other is up to interpretation of each viewer in my opinion but there's something to be said about the fact that without the other they'd never had the determination or confidence to get out of that prison, that without the other their weaknesses would show a lot more and end up causing a lot bigger of a struggle than they currently are. Without the other they wouldn't feel whole.

#qsmp #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #character analysis #i think #im trying these 2 are so #genuinely interesting to me #in the best way possible #cause at their core they're still silly guy's #long read #text post #void mumbling

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qsycomplainsalot · 5 months

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Recently the French news cycle has been dominated by us patting ourselves on the back from refusing a racist law project from some dickhead in parliament, and a frankly shameful debacle where a teacher took their students to the Louvre and took them without warning to see a painting featuring naked people, with the students being eleven to twelve years old in that context. I invite you to read about it yourself although you should keep in mind that a lot of sources show a very strong bias in their language describing the event.

What we see with that whole nonsense is that 130y after Alfred Dreyfus' trial, we still have the proceedings over controversial facts and statements be ruled over by some clique with obvious conflicts of interest passing judgement by telling us that no everything's fine we swear, it's the minorities that we need to worry about. A teacher shows artistic nudes to 12yo's with no warning but no no it's their fault you see, and the fault of their religion, this eternal enemy of the Republic (except when it's fairweather catholicism)/s. The students complain that this is part of a pattern of hostility from said teacher, but it's okay because the teachers tell you that it's not. And now the minister of education wants to punish the students. Classy.

It's honestly not hard to see a pattern of abuse towards these kids and we don't need to have this teacher personally involved in it either, because if even a single student in this class was Muslim, or Jewish, or literally any other religion than Christian, there are laws that should be unconstitutional in nature that already bars them from even harmless outward displays of their religion, because of a fundamentally moronic, stunted understanding of what secularism and the separation of church and state was about. It was supposed to stop discrimination, but instead it hits on the head any and everything that might stick out to a white Christian point of view with absolutely no self-reflection on how hypocritical it is. France has had a deeply religious culture for as long as it existed, our national myth STARTS with our people's conversion to Christianity, but because it is our culture and we're used to it we do not see it, we do not question it, and any attempt to point it out is an attack on the values of the Republic, you filthy non-assimilated foreigners. Ignore over half of our holidays being literal Christian holy days, all of our stores legally having to close on sundays and wearing cross pendants in school literally never being prosecuted, we're so fucking secular it's beautiful.

Mind you this is borderline irrelevant in this context though, because a teacher decided to shoulder the responsibility to show nudity to children, not all of whom were Muslims and they were obviously made uncomfortable by the experience. There's probably an age at which one can expect students to look at tits in a painting and be able to contextualize them with their art history lesson, I'm going to be honest though it's not gonna be twelve years old. Reframed without the racist "their obscurantist beliefs can't handle our beautiful art of chubby ladies in what I can only assume are poses an Italian man four hundred years ago thought were sexy", it's not an attempt against the sanctity of the republic not to show tits to children without warning them and their parents. But apparently some fucking dullard did a dumb, and rather than address it or any of its systemic issue the French education system is circling the wagon and shitting on its students twice as hard.

“At French schools, we do not challenge authority, we respect it! At French schools, we do not contest secularism, we respect it! ! At French school, we don't look away from a painting, we don't cover our ears in music class, we don't wear religious dress, in short, in French schools we do not negotiate the authority of the teacher nor the authority of our rules and our values!”.

--Gabriel Attal, French minister of education/Macron simp, showing how becoming minister at age 34 might be a bad idea and an indictment to the institution you claim to represent by ignoring the past some two hundred and forty years of French history.

"Shut up and do as we say, after all the French system as an impeccable record of mediocrity so clearly we're doing everything to merit your obedience !!"

I cannot stress this enough, kids this age are NOT COMFORTABLE WITH NUDITY AND SEXUAL THEMES, it is not a purely religious thing and not all kids who complained were Muslim. The school and media are brushing over that because it doesn't fit their racist framing job, because it would not be convenient for them to report the news accurately because it would expose how the education system in France is rotten from top to bottom, from underpaid teachers who stopped giving a shit all the way to a political appointee minister who couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel.

#rant #education #politics

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fourovcups · 1 year

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I've been reading Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire as research for a project of mine, and it has certainly been an experience.

Desert Solitaire was one of these titles I'd heard bandied about in American nature literature growing up (the kind of thing teachers recommended once you finished Hatchet), but I don't here his work mentioned as much anymore. I recently re-encountered the title on a literal ecofascist reading list. While Abbey doesn't sound like an ecofascist himself, I can easily see why nature Nazis like him.

The book chronicles Abbey's time as a seasonal park ranger at the Arches National Monument in Utah There is a kind of uncertainty and inconsistency in the way he writes, even in the way he acts towards his surroundings in the desert. Silent Spring had only been published a few years before Solitaire was, and the eco-cultural revolution was not yet in full swing. Abbey writes lovingly about his desert environment. He describes in stunning detail, for example, the everyday beauty of a bumblebee alighting on a cactus flower, and decries the reckless "development" initiatives of the Bureau of Public Roads. But on the next page, he will say something like this: "...it's a foolish, simple-minded rationalism which denies any form of emotion to all animals but man and his dog. This is no more justified than the Moslems are in denying souls to women." Sure dude. Okay, fine, he was writing in the sixties. Some insensitivity is par for the course. But then, after pages and pages of decrying humans driving desert flora and fauna towards extinction, he describes with glee an instance where he stones a rabbit to death for no apparent reason.

It's a bizarre passage, and shows Abbey at his most unhinged. He describes the rabbit as "cowardly" for running away from threats, unlike the brave mountain lion, who stands and fights. He throws the stone and hits the rabbit's head: "He crumples, there's the usual gushing of blood, etc.," and the creature is dead. "I continue my walk with a new, augmented cheerfulness which is hard to understand but unmistakable [...] I try but cannot feel any sense of guilt." Reflecting on the incident, he concludes that his killing of the rabbit has made him a part of the desert, a membership bought by killing or being killed, being "predator or prey". Even so, he decides not to eat the rabbit, which he says is probably diseased anyway. He also describes using his walking stick to crush and stir up an ant colony, also without any reason beyond not liking ants. "Don't actually care for ants. Neurotic little pismires." These are far from the only times that Abbey violates his personal philosophy of reverence for all living creatures.

It's clear that Edward Abbey came to Arches National Monument already dissatisfied with the outside world, and with some authority issues to boot (some quick googling on his background shows two demotions as a military police officer for clashing with higher-ups). The freedom of the desert, its simplicity and balance, is a significant part of what makes it appeal to him. But its harshness, the hostility of its sandstorms and lurking rattlesnakes, draws him in just as much.

Edward Abbey is not an ecofascist. If anything, his ill-defined political beliefs can be vaguely defined as anarchistic, if they can be defined at all. Deleuze and Guattari write in A Thousand Plateaus that fascism is "a cancerous body rather than a totalitarian organism". It is fluid, mutable. Sometimes it lies latent, benign; at other times it rushes outward, colonizing piecemeal and erratically, in "flows capable of suffusing every kind of cell". Elements of Abbey, and of Desert Solitaire, contain such microfascisms.

Let's turn back to the linchpin of it all: the killing of the rabbit, which he sees as a joyous, cosmic act; one that links him into a (circular? pyramidal?) chain of being he was previously alienated from, in the atomized world of civilization. His joy is only augmented when he realizes he is not guilty for killing the rabbit. In per-modern hunting customs across the world, the taking of animal life is never free and unmediated. Thanks may be given to the spirit of the animal itself, or to the unseen powers that led the hunter to their quarry. Naturally, the sacrifice of an animal to a god was just that: for a god, not the human involved. What Abbey describes in the killing of the rabbit is something utterly different.

In Federico Finchelstein's Fascist Mythologies, Finchelstein says that in fascism, "consciousness was not a repression of inwardness (as Freud understood the workings of the Ego and the Id) but its actual distillation. [...] [Fascist consciousness] was not contemplative but similar to that of a sublime sensation of ecstasy."

The fascist subject is most "conscious" precisely when they loose themselves in the ecstatic abandon of the act. Such fascist consciousness is the foundation of the free, easy violence it facilitates.

When Abbey describes casting the stone at the rabbit, it is in a Meursault-like twilight of awareness. He sets up the encounter as a game, one in which he is a scientist experimenting on a rabbit that has been "volunteered" to him, and whose death is justifiable through its natural cowardice. He hardly realizes that the action he is carrying out, and when the rabbit dies he is shocked out of his reverie for a moment.

"For a moment I am shocked by my deed [...] but shock is succeeded by a mild elation."

For Abbey, primordial violence is what at last allows him union with the sacred world of the desert.

"No longer do I feel so isolated from the sparse and furtive life around me, a stranger from another world. I have entered into this one. We are kindred all of us [...] Long live diversity, long live the Earth!"

By carrying out this act of bare violence, Abbey frees himself from the civilized world and achieves union with the world of Nature, in which violence is a simple act: one that creates its own order rather than supporting existing ones. It is this union that, while the moment lasts, allows him to rejoice in his newfound "innocence and power".

That is where I will leave things for now. There are other, more overt themes that Abbey explores that are the chief reason Desert Solitaire appeals to many ecofascists, such as its characterizations of industrial society and "Progress". Abbey's later work, such as The Monkey Wrench Gang, set even more explicit examples of direct action and sabotage that inspired right-wing accelerationists as well as left-wing environmental activists. This is my first long-ish post; if you're interested in these kinds of posts on ecofascism and ecocriticism, let me know and I might make more in the future.

#Desert Solitaire #ecocriticism #ecofascism #books #Edward Abbey #fascism

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decolonize-the-left · 1 year

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The discussion on whiteness y'all are having makes a lot of sense and resonates with my experience as a white person as well. As a disabled queer person whilst I still very much experience white privilege, I very much feel like abled cishet white people think I'm doing whiteness wrong.

And I'd say if there was a "white culture" it'd hinge entirely on appearances. I cannot speak for people of color who struggle with their parents but my experience and a lot of experiences I know from white people with toxic/abusive parents they have to look and feel like very good people like it goes beyond just wanting to appeal to others to avoid consequences the like worst thing you can do in a white family is be honest about anything?

In my own family we all hate each other and always have hated each other and still we coexist in a way that protects all of us and makes things easier for us and I think that on a wider scale that's how whiteness operates and also why when white people emphasize how much they hate other white people that's completely meaningless because like. Yeah of course you do we all very much hate each other but that doesn't mean that we aren't complicit in whiteness because of the ways it benefits us? When you're white then the white people around you fully expect that even if you despised every inch of them that you would defend them if they were being racist or will be complicit in their actions just out of sheer obligation to whiteness.

I think that part of the reason the ways marginalized white people experience oppression tends to be a lot more emotional manipulation and gaslighting + infantilization rather than outward aggression/hostility is because if we have a community/culture not tied to our race that gives us actual loyalties and will make us start to criticize whiteness and then things all start to fall apart.

Especially if you're white american the last thing any white person wants you to have is a semblance of genuine culture, if you're disabled and queer and other things that they want to portray as being a nonwhite and "lesser" thing they will go to lengths to either convince you that you aren't those things at all, to minimize things to say well at least you're not like Others (see: additionally marginalized people of color), and if that fails to take their autonomy in such a way that they can eliminate the potential threat. (e.g white people with visible enough psychotic symptoms are highly likely to be incarcerated in psych wards and physically harmed by authorities but those of us who are able to mask our psychosis do not experience the same level of violence at all)

And I think this is really evident when you look at marginalized communities and how white people tend both to dominate discussions and also to minimize that marginalization a lot of white autistic people who arent visibly autistic enough to have to fight for any semblance of autonomy tend to paint autism as being this purely good and special thing where you just have special interests and are a little confused sometimes and are so empathetic(tm)

When you start questioning whiteness too other white people start to treat you a whole lot differently, when I started to notice my own and my family's racist behaviors as a teenager who finally had access to listen to POC talk about their experience and pointed these out to my family I very quickly became mistrusted by them, they stopped telling me important things and would say that clearly I was not interested in participating with family activities and clearly didn't love them. It's like, once you "betray whiteness" you can't really come back from that and I think that's why so many white marginalized people are such aggressive bootlickers because they've never had a loving/genuine sense of community so they think once they're alienated from whiteness that there will be nothing for them because they've never felt genuinely wanted or cared for outside of that.

Of course that's what whiteness wants white people to think, they want us to be afraid of connecting with nonwhite people because if we realize that there are rich cultures that we can connect with unrelated to our whiteness and that we can and will have plenty of genuine connections with POC in our communities and this idea that we're so hated for being white that only other white people could accept us and it's us white people against the world is white supremacist propaganda then white power starts to fall apart.

I don't have anything to add at all, like yeah. Esp that last part?

Because if white supremacists don't have white allyship backing them then they have nothing. Nothing. That's where their white power comes from.

They'd lose all ability to affect our politics, climate, healthcare, etc.

#asked #answered #whiteness #white supremacy

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drstonetrivia · 5 months

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Chapter 214 Trivia

The two-part connected covers are so cool, I'm happy we got two colored ones in a row!

There's a sneaky rat (or mouse?) on the cover! Unfortunately I have zero idea what this could be alluding to. It could be nothing, or it could be implying that Ukyo (same colors) is the t(ra)i(t)or…

The inside of Xeno's scar is also colored white! New petri-scar theories?

The name of the chapter is a reference to the Earth Defense Force (地球防衛軍) video game series. Its plot is that radio waves from deep space are picked up by scientists on Earth, and a multinational military is formed afterwards in case the aliens are hostile. Sound familiar?

Suika's helmet has a top part! I am wondering where it appeared from though.

Before this moment, they'd always revived whole statues. If it's possible to revive an incomplete statue, and the missing pieces don't grow back as part of the healing effect of the depetrification, it means it's not the end for someone if they're missing a limb.

Senku is using his arm wrappings to pick up the device. I wonder why he suddenly felt the need to use them…

When glass containing a vacuum breaks, the pieces get sucked in along with the air suddenly filling the space at very high speeds. They then smash into the middle before shattering outwards again. Think of what happens when you drop a rock into a bucket of water!

You may have noticed that the resulting glass doesn't quite follow what should have happened there, so the other possible option for how the glass shattered is thermal shock. Cracks of this type begin perpendicularly to the edge of it, which we can sort of see here.

In both cases, glass would have ended up on the inside of the container, but we see none. Could the medusa's pressure wave have thrown all the glass away from itself? And if that's the case, why are the glass walls still standing?

Chelsea: somehow stealing Suika's job and traits as much as possible. Why is it detective Gen!? Bring back detective Suika!

There's now a third boat donning the "Perseus" name: Perseus D. Monkey. This one is heavily inspired by One Piece, specifically the protagonist Monkey D. Luffy. The head of the ship is painted like a monkey: a reference to One Piece, the steam gorilla, and the old Perseus design.

The ship design itself is a smaller, more maneuverable version of the original Perseus. It's also a hybrid with an engine, and rather than having the whole mast rotate, they've designed it as a sailboat with a rotating boom.

The Kagoshima prefecture mine they probably went to is the Kushikino mine, which is the only one that has selenium-silver ores (naumannite & aguilarite), but also has ores containing both arsenic and tellurium. Because the area is volcanic, there's likely several skarn deposits.

Kagoshima's mines are in fact most known for their gold deposits, so Senku is probably finding more to replenish Chrome's gold stash.

Senku's video camera tube is based off Japan's saticon from 1973. The "SAT" in its name is derived from "SeAsTe"; the symbols for the selenium, arsenic and tellurium used on its photoconductive (not photoelectric) surface.

Remember the fax machine from chapter 207, how Senku said matching up the timing was important? Well the horizontal distortion in the image here is exactly the same concept: the horizontal lines are shifted to the left or right due to minor errors.

Before anyone says that Whyman can hack their television signal from the moon, remember that these are basically cable TVs, where you'd have to rewire it for a new input if you wanted it to display a different image. Anything sneaky would have to be an inside job…

We have the (Stan)Lee vs Xeno baseball game happening on the field outside the castle. Since the ball smashes through the window of the TV room, and the world record for longest baseball hit distance is 177m, you can tell the batters take after Stanley. (They can.)

A reference to 20th Century Fox, one of the many names for one of the biggest American film studios.

Obviously, the 58th is a reference to their current year.

We got a better location on the computer's house, it's a lot closer to Roppongi than I first thought! I wonder how close it is to Senku's grave and Tsukasa's pile of statues that he wanted to revive…

#trivia #dr stone #chapters #214 #this and the previous chapter hold a special place in my heart because of a particular fanwork's setting :)

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princessmacedon · 9 months

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an arrival in nahan

Saltwater laps at her boots, stripping away a handful of sand and plastering two more to her heel. Hers is the first boat to touch the shore, but even the sea drowns in her ears, its susur swallowed by the irreverent beating of her heart. It rockets, from spine to sternum and back again, so fiercely as to throw her stumbling into the foam. Water grapples at the hem of her dress, flecking it dark and darker still; distantly, she is aware of someone else's hands, forceful as they hook her elbow and gentle in the catching.

"--Michalis," is all she gasps, watching the other boats come in. In all the chaos, she had been holding his hand, but hers is empty now. Whoever dragged her out of the waves releases her when she does not run back in. It won't help anyone if she panics, and she presses her palm, fingers splayed, against her chest. Perhaps Tiki will need her. Perhaps she should check on Frederick. What of Nanna and Sara, who have not yet reached the shore? Miss Ayra and her dearest Larcei? There must be something she can do for someone.

Her focus turns outward, and her heartbeat calms; Michalis never comes.

When the last of them arrives they number nine, a sorry bunch no more formidable than a clowder of drenched cats, soaked to the bone and some of them bereft of fang and claw. She herself has lost not only her great grandfather's heir, but his shield as well, and something in that fact makes her feel so small.

Too small for dreams and all such things she clings to (tries to cling to), but just right for their only-almost-even split of five and four. The innkeeper and his pity make a gift of two rooms for one night, the larger half sent to the one with the sturdier door. Her body tucked against the wall, fingers wrapped loosely around her ankles, Maria makes herself smaller in a big room, just like she always used to. Someone is murmuring somewhere, but she is too tired to... to...

In the early morning, Michalis is still not there, and Maria thinks he surely must have met a distant shore. He is too saddled by guilt to leave her abandoned overlong, and moreover he is far too stubborn to die: therefore, he must be elsewhere, dour but alive.

Sleep never reclaims her, having long since ceased to be a place of repose. Instead, she marks the time in the measure of the sun's halo refracted in raindrops crawling down the window pane; they are long gone come the calling of their fractured convocation, but the speaking-- the purpose she finds in it-- is better than the silence.

Perhaps it is just the taste of the wind in Verdane, but the scent of spring comes and goes, a flower on the breeze. Frederick (a 'sir' would suit his name warmly, like a winter coat) calls for what information they have at hand, and simply put: they have none. Maria does not hesitate to politely raise her hand, bidding for attention as though she were still inside the classroom.

She remembers the houses, half-built, and the crumbling walls. Gathering information has never been her forte, but she loves people as much as she cannot leave them be. She gives, but she does not trade; there is no promise of information, and though she hopes, she does not expect. But--

“I want to help them, if they need it. If they have wounded, I could help heal them! I would like to, if I can. May I? Please?”

They let her go with a promise shared not to leave alone, and she hurries down the stairs.

The innkeeper is like a metronome at rest, leaning neither toward hostility nor friendliness, but rather standing pin straight in the middle. Nevertheless, it was his kindness that allowed them safety and a good night's rest, and the warmth it kindles in her heart flowers on her face a smile. (If she allows herself a moment of wishful thinking, then she would like to think he wavers once.) And she gives to herself a well-worn mission, that she might savor all the kindnesses she's shown -- what good in the world she sees, she would dearly love to sow.

She presses him, almost to a point of worry, for where she might make herself useful. Not once does the innkeeper insinuate there to be a wounded soldier, a scraped knee, or even so much as a sniffly nose in the town. For all her curiosity, she learns of one person beyond the chores localized to the inn: a woman named Parsa, bereft of sheep and possessed of problems.

But the others are all gone or sleeping, and even sweet, beloved Tiki has run off with the others to play. Never one to break her promises if she can help it, the little cleric upholds them twofold, setting herself to the tasks of floor scrubbing and window washing in the safety of the inn. She's not the best at it, but she's certainly better than she would have been a few years ago by hops and skips, and it helps that she has enthusiasm aplenty to match.

It's when she pauses to wipe the back of her hand across her brow (working hard, yes, but mostly delighting in striking a pose like unto the characters in her books) that Maria spies what seems to be a merchant enjoying her lunch. The plethora of bags holds promise and catches Maria's attention, reeling her in until she stands next to the woman's table. The merchant, for her part, carries her words like she carries her coins: each one counted, their weight and worth carefully measured. Another one or few are added to the pile when the balance comes up short, and always clipped ere they threaten to overflow. Even so, Maria finds no fault in her answers (she is asking the wrong questions, like as not).

Indeed, things lost at sea sometimes washed up on the shore, the information parted with, somewhat unhappily, a word of advice. Quite clearly far more intriguing is that Maria offers to purchase something from that picked-clean shore, though the price to be shown is that she must show. One hundred and fifty-nine gold; unimpressive as it is, that is all she has.

And all she has will buy her a bridle, if she will forfeit it -- an odd thing with bells hanging at its woven joints, clearly as cared for as it is worn. But what a troubling thought it is, to forfeit her every coin! She cannot think of a beloved voice that would not chide her for it, and so far away from home she is uneasy to relinquish even this small security.

But Iote's Shield is heavy in its absence, and hers is a bleeding heart; she cannot say no, not when someone else's heart might bleed for their memories, too.

Gold dances between the merchant's knuckles, but with little more to give, Maria has little more to get. Word of the situation in Grannvale and elsewhere is vague. That they are doing well is a joy, of course, but she cannot forget the shadow that stretched behind Sara that night on the ship, just as she cannot forget the children stolen away from their homes. Sacrifices, all, just like she had been once -- only they did not even have the dreadful fortune to sleep. Whatever haunted those who called Jugdral their home had left many sorrows in its wake; would it be a kindness, then, to resurrect such nightmares for the sake of her curiosity? To light the match and dangle it near the wick of panic?

She cannot rightly say that it is.

"Thank you very much, Miss! Safe travels, wherever you go!"

Later, the professor will remember her shield and bring it back to her, crusted in sea salt and accented with kelp though it might be, and she will hug it to her chest and tell him that it is her brother's shield. Oh, there is a bloodline behind it, a nation she loves and a crown in its steel, but from the first time Michalis defied Papa and snuck it into her bedroom whispering histories to his two sisters cuddled by his lap, it has always been his. It kept him safe when he fell; it kept him safe when he fled; it kept him safe when he returned to her, and it will keep him safe when he leaves again.

Later still, when they have all reconvened, she will raise the bridle before them in hopes of returning it home. Its owner will recognize it-- probably-- mostly-- and Maria will not think too hard after so many years why her memory frays only in sudden, uneasy splotches. The surer and the more well traveled will plant fingers against a hand drawn map, charting a tentative course to Verdane, and they will make ready for a departure in Nahan.

#toasabbamvitatham2023 #SVVerdane2023 #drabble #the gist of the 4th through 6th for maria i suppose?!#though i guess it wound up pretty vague HAHA

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overfedvenison · 7 months

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I doubt it'll mean anything, but Castle Town's initial structures are arrow-shaped

Although the Chaos Star is much more famous, the symbol of Order is an upwards-pointing arrow. The Order and Chaos symbols were created by author Michael Moorcock... Chaos represents possibilities which extend in all directions (and which is ultimately aimless and moves at random,) while law represents a single path forward (Without outward possibilities.) Now... I don't think this is going to be a motif. That would be sort of weird for this game. But whenever I see the unaltered Castle Town, with it's clear arrow motif, I kind of wonder if that actually is the meaning. Like, why the arrow theme?

Like... - Ralsei's Castle also has an Angel theme - it's covered in angel wings. You can tell they are Angel Wings because one of the doors has six of them. Angels are likewise often used as a symbol of law or order, or otherwise an enactor of a divine plan, in a lot of RPGs. And notably, in Megami Tensei - which iirc was noted to have at least partially inspired Undertale's famous Act system, but don't quote me on that - they are probably the most iconic Law-aligned monsters - The only straight arrow is RIGHT on that fountain of darkness, which seems notable - The game has a much-discussed themed of "Your Choices Don't Matter." It has a much discussed theme of the linearity of games. The secret bosses are aware of their role in the story, and struggle to break out of that. They seem to drop items which offer alternative builds (Ralsei's weapon destroys his healing ability, while Susie's boosts her magic and reduces costs on Rude Buster) and generally seem to have a theme of struggling against your plotted course. This could very well be a Law vs Chaos thing - Your two main companions, Ralsei and Susie, seem to correspond to lawful and chaotic archetypes. Ralsei wants you to follow the prophecy, Susie is just going along because of you and is outright hostile to it at first. Ralsei guides you along the narrative, but Susie often undermines his plans. Etc. - The game actually brings up alignment, albeit as a joke. This does not mean anything, except how you are expected to be familiar enough with RPGs to get the Law/Chaos/Neutral alignment joke.

(It's also worth noting that Noelle is the one listed as Neutral - Rather than Susie or Ralsei. Noelle is very much neutral, and will stick with you even as you force her to act against her desires) - More than that, alignment is actually brought up in more meaningful ways. Tasque Manager and Jevil both bear explicit alignments in both their recruitment screen and in their lines. Other recruits have alignment listed in their elements: Ponman and Ambu-Lance are Order, in addition to Tasque Manager. Since Jevil is dummied out, that means there's no Chaos recruits yet. So that all brings me to like... I dunno. Is alignment going to be important? Is this game more like Order/Neutral/Chaos than Undertale's Pacifist/Neutral/Genocide? Well, this one is barking up weird trees even for me, haha

#deltarune

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meirimerens · 2 years

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Genuinely curious on your thoughts on Clara in relation to the other healers. I know what you think about the other healers with each other ;)

🤭🤭🤭 teehee!

ok it's been a while since i last played and/or checked out clara's route so chances are a lot of these thoughts have Marinated since then but basically

towards dankovsky she does retain some sort of hostility, not outward hate but rather a... "you don't accept god and the mystical into your heart? ☦🛐📿🙏✨ ough ough?" and dislikes his constant and impermeable refusal of the whimsical and supernatural. she also has in her heart that she can, in some way, Open His Eyes to it [she can't, he was raised religious and found it kinda sucked. the art is nice though]. she's kind of like an evangelist if they didn't suck. when she realizes she won't change his mind, she's like. "🤷 ok. then die without knowing the utmost kind touch of a loving and destructing god." But she also has these... almost child-like tendencies of wanting him to reassure her when she gets so fucking scared of herself and her powers. his skepticism grounds her in the way a parent checking your closet for monsters as a child grounds you. but then when the Fear recedes she's Back On It.

towards Burakh she doesn't have the same "you don't accept god and the mystical into your heart?" as she does dankovsky because there is place for the mystical and supernatural in his life, and clara walks that line of Knowing a lot about his steppe affairs and misrepresenting to herself and others what they are, as she is... familiar with them, but some kind of almost-stranger still. i think she does see in him a kindred soul more than she does in dankovsky (even though she still does dankovsky) because their visions of the world Does Include something that cannot be explained away by science, she just wishes, over and over, he would See It. she also does towards him that thing, that child-like tendency of wanting him to protect, or cover for her (cf. in P2 when she asks him to heal at her place because she lost her powers). if burakh didn't have 2 kids already I think she would be a good surrogate daughter to him, but also I think she's too high-headed to be a daughter figure to him, maybe more a... rowdy cousin.

#clara lore #dankovsky lore #burakh lore #ring ring (answers)#parvusmundus

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bluelockednyx · 7 months

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I heard somewhere that in Rin's case, when all the anger towards Sae and others fizzle out, he directs the hatred inward. Do you think Rin has self-hatred issues? Esp after Sae's return from Spain and his words at U-20. He's sad and miserable yes, but does that convert to self hatred, I wonder?

How do you think that looks in relation to Nagi who also shows depression symptoms? Like the Itoshis, Nagi's parents also seem to be physically and emotionally unavailable. But he's not as worse as Rin bcz he has Reo and accepts others's friendship ( like Chigiri and Isagi). Thoughts?

This is up to personal character interpretation, but I say no to Rin having self-hatred issues.

Rin's biggest issue, shown in the manga over and over again, is his fixation on his relationship with Sae. He has very weak and superficial connections with the rest, partly because he is hard to get along with, and partly because he's not very interested in trying to. He has a weak sense of self, manifested in how his goals and desires are related directly to people in his life.

This is his biggest contrast with Isagi: Isagi wants to be the top striker in the world for himself, much like Barou. Rin wants to be the top striker, first to fulfill his and Sae's childhood dream, then to crush Sae, and now, to beat Isagi too. Until now, Rin's desires are still built upon links to others. In this regard, Rin is actually more alike to Nagi, who is also striving to be a top striker for the sake of his friendship with Reo. He's not wanting to be the top striker simply to be the top striker.

Rin's confident in himself, and he's always been sure of his abilities. When he loses, he accepts it straightforwardly and moves on to improve himself; it's one of the traits Isagi admires in him. Another consistent thing about Rin is that he always, always directs his anger outwards. From his general attitude, to his eventual 'destructive' play style, it's always him taking out his anger on other people. Not once have we really seen him direct his hatred inwards. He's sad because of his strained relationship with Sae, but he's not self-loathing. He's more upset because he perceives that Sae used him, and doesn't see his worth as a person beyond soccer. None of this rings to me as someone who has self-hatred issues, but rather someone that has fairly black-and-white thinking, and has codependency issues due to a lack of relationships with others.

Nagi's parents booted him off to live alone so he could attend an elite private high school, for the sake of his future. The problem with Nagi is that he lacks ambition and self-motivation so he's apathetic, he's always too content with things as they are until he gets a rude wake-up call via his friendship with Reo being threatened, or that he's less than an actual person. So no, I don't think that Nagi has self-hatred issues either.

Nagi's not as bad off because he doesn't close himself off as much as Rin, and overall he will seem more approachable to the rest precisely because of his friendship with Reo. The general impression Nagi gives off is that he's a weirdo who doesn't know how to be human/is living in his own planet, not that he's hostile, unlike Rin who trash talks the rest and routinely talks about wanting to kill people in matches lmao, or Shidou whose default mode of expression seems to be physical violence.

#niki answers asks

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sparklingpax · 1 year

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Picture this: some earlier battle, maybe on another planet or something, idk...it's just Mega and Giga.

The pair left their ship w the rest of their group at the time (everyone split up into pairs and went different ways) and headed off to investigate the surroundings of this strange, unfamiliar place. It wasn't listed on any maps...but they need to find something, as they're low on resource for the ship, and they've stopped on this planet as it was the closest landmass to them from their original course through the stars.

But now, they're mid-fight, fending off a group of hostile beasts. They're not exactly struggling, there's just a lot of them, and they're being careful how they strike the life-forms, having wordlessly decided to render them unconscious rather than engage in killing, just in case on this foreign planet, they were important.

Finally, Mega hits the arm of one and throws it into another, rendering the two beats to an unconscious pile of fur and bones, quiet for the moment. She looks up to see where Giga is, and finds him sitting cross-legged, further ahead, near the edge of the mossy overhang they'd been cornered to when first pursued by the beasts. The helmet of his armor sits beside him, its time-damaged qualities showing even from the distance. His braided locks cascade gently down his back, touching the tips of the soft, green moss. He's completely still, seemingly captivated by something beyond Mega's line of view.

With a smirk, she wonders what he's looking at, striding up the gentle rise. Drawing to his side, she ducks her head to remove her helmet and turns to the side. With a hand on a hip, still catching her breath from the fight, she blinks down at him.

Warm light defines with soft certainty the lines in Giga's face, a soft shimmer playing faintly in the depths of his irises. It catches sharply on the rims and curves of his armor, turning the silvers to white, and casting sharper shadows behind the areas of glow. He seems at some kind of profound peace and wonder, not a strange expression by any means for a being like him, but rather, a little more rare.

What with a war and all, and his position of leadership with her, the two are often quite tense and stern.

Mega then turns her eyes at last and stares outwards. She quickly understands his silent fascination.

A vast display of flora and fauna, tinted orange and gold with the setting sun splays out grandiosely below and beyond the overhang.

It seems to go on forever.

In the distant sky, a strange flock of flying creatures make their way forward, casting up their faint, beastial cries.

The soft shimmering of stars seems to gently poke through a cloudy haze further above them, like diamonds behind glass. It seems the night presses closer, yet not close enough for now. It is a vague, yet inviting shine that warrants a closer look, but with the state of their ship, Mega settles to wait until night to look again.

It is too beautiful for words, she agrees, gently kneeling to the ground and hugging her legs close to her chest.

As she moves, the sound of her armor clanking against itself makes Mega starkly aware of its cold weight against her skin, and she feels the urge to chuckle cynically.

They are still at war. Even in this interlude of time while their ship traverses the stars without a target to engage and destroy, without orders to follow beyond making it to their next destination, they wear armor. They fight, or prepare for the possibility.

Nature and its beauty waits in its tranquil existence for the world to follow it to peace, and it is either left untouched by conflict of life-forms, or decimated as a byproduct, though innocent all the way.

Even the beasts they had fought, knew nothing beyond the abstract understandings of the laws of their own nature, and they waged a fight, not a war. They were not to blame.

She instead lets out a small sigh, realizing then that her breathing has finally leveled again.

Turning again, she finds Giga looking at her, now, and she smiles. He smiles, more with his eyes than anything else. In the way that he does, which she knows well.

She knows also they share many ideals, and he probably knows what she's thinking. In fact, he probably thinks it too.

As if the warmth of the burning star setting before them had slowly seeped into her bones, she feels a surge of something mellow and equally as warm blossom inside, and inches closer to Giga, resting herself against his form. Immediately, she feels him relax against her, and they continue in their silence, simply staring, curled gently into one another's warmth.

Perhaps they will be interrupted by a comm-call, or one of the other investigation teams will find them.

But for now, they rest.

In the fading sunlight of this strange planet, on a mossy overhang, feeling less and less the cold metal against their bodies, they rest in the arms of Mother Nature.

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thvndersnow · 1 year

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ASTRIDR-7 ;;

name ; astridr-7, "astrid" species ; exo (human) pronouns ; he/him gender ; androgyne sexuality ; pansexual class/subclass ; voidwalker/threadweaver warlock ghost: susanoo (he/him)

phys. description ; 6'1" and very slender of build, typical for a warlock. astrid is typically painted silver or off-white, with crimson red accents along his face and around his arms and legs, with matte black synth flesh -- however, he changes his paint job to suit the occasion, keeping the same markings but opting for different colors depending on what the occasion is as well as his mood. the cheekbone-like protrusions of his faceplate are sharp and striking, as is much of the rest of him. he has large spikes on his elbows and knees which all of his armor and clothing must accommodate for. his optics are either crimson or gold, depending on what better matches his paint job of the day. each of his fingers ends in a retractable claw.

light abilities ; astrid at first appears to be a normal voidwalker, but his light more closely mimics the hypothetical "white hole" than the typical black hole other void warlocks utilize; it pushes force outwards, rather than drawing things in. his light also has a tendency to poison those he directs it towards, sapping from them their life essence to feed his own; his use of the necrotic grips exotic compounds on this. for a warlock, astrid is very aggressive, and both his light and threadweaver abilities reflect that.

personality; to say astrid is hard to get along with is an understatement; while he's not a stranger to the use of honeyed words and silver tongue, and generally knows how to conduct himself, he has explosive anger issues that come into play whenever he believes someone to be taking advantage of him or disrespecting him, and he is known to lie to get his way. astrid prefers the finer things in life, and he is ruthless in acquiring them, with seemingly little thought to the morality of doing so. truthfully, he is a bit of a coward, and even the smallest amount of fear is enough to squash his violent rage - but he views this as practicality. after all, if he were to die, then who would do his work? if you manage to get past his more abrasive tendencies and stick with him, astrid might not ever fully open up, but he will become fiercely and violently protective of you. he doesn't truly believe others capable of loving him, or of doing anything but using him - but those that stay, and that try to prove him wrong, may just be rewarded with a softer side.

brief history ; like many exos, astridr-7 kept extensive journals during his life, not the least of which because his bouts of explosive emotions were known to trigger resets for him. it's because of this that he knows what his life was prior to his rez: he was the kingpin of a smuggling ring in the last city, one he took over after the imprisonment of his husband at his own hands and testimony. how he died, he is unsure, but he woke on the tangled shore, and it was from there that the spider, an old work associate of his, took him in. all of his work is done in service to the spider; though their relationship is transactional, it is not as hostile as spider's relationship with crow would become. astrid is a rogue lightbearer, interested only in his own gain and the gain of his employer. he has therefor not taken part in any canon plots (though i tend to see him and the crow having a bit of a rivalry, so he may have popped up occasionally during season of the hunt just to be an ass).

tags ; gen tag | hc tag | aesthetics tag | ic tag | gen ship tag

#astrid is a bitch and i like him so much #astrid tag ;; i want to watch the world burn; i brought the gasoline #info ;; from marathon to waterloo in order categorical #long post #just in case

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