#now my only option to do this thing is - try to search if something exists as stuff I can download somewhere

[starsmuserainbow]

Trying to find a very specific top piece for an outfit in KK, clicking through everything - and turning up entirely empty. Ugh.

Why does it feel like all these outfits are the same, sometimes?

[amyispxnk]

And if you were my little girl

Summary - your dad sucks and you finally turn to Joel for help (summaries are my specialty can you tell)

A/N: SO my dad’s being a little bitchy and making me genuinely want to unalive a little bit, I remembered this song existed, Joel is the father we all wish we had, and here we are. Also I’ve (fortunately) never had to deal with an alcoholic so I’m sorry if it’s not written very well?

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (can probably be read as gn tho?)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: paternal issues (i refuse to say daddy sorry), alcohol mention, language, angst, comfort, a lot of tears, father Joel, implications of using certain methods to get things you want, verbal/physical abuse, blood

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Part 2 here

You reckoned you had stopped really taking the words in that he tried to threaten you with a long time ago, letting the curses and attempts to break you apart in through one ear and straight out the other. That way you wouldn’t be able to linger on them for too long; it was better that way.

“Where’s the fuckin’ drinks?” Your dad yelled, stumbling around the kitchen and throwing open the shelves in his search, met with nothing but dust. You skated around him as best you could but after he had almost torn apart the wood trying to find the alcohol, he turned to you.

Red in the face, sweating furiously with a look that could definitely kill you. Hands balled at his sides as he took a step towards you.

“D’you hide it again?” He said menacingly, trying to instil as much fear as he could into you, desperate for the liquid relief.

This time, you hadn’t hidden it. You knew better than to try and help him anymore, he couldn’t be fixed and you had to just accept it. When you were younger, when you were more stupid, more hopeful, you had tried hiding it or disposing of it in secret to try and discourage his alcoholism - only to be met with a split lip and hundreds of salty tears spilling from your eyes, only to be ignored and discarded and yelled at and told you were useless before being sent out to go get more. Sometimes without money, him saying that you’d just have to find another way to get it.

You were so disgusted with the prospect of what he was surely insinuating, but thinking about what he might do if you came back empty-handed was somehow scarier to you at the time.

“Fucking answer me!” He snarled, pulling you up by your collar and glaring at you.

“I didn’t hide it- there’s none left, and there’s no way to get any right now. If you just calm-” You began, trying to keep your voice steady and your face void of too much emotion. You weren’t going to let him do anything. He didn’t scare you anymore.

“Well you best fuckin’ find some, you bitch!” He shoved you towards the door, knocking you onto the hard wooden floor in the process and watching you cry out in pain without so much as batting an eye, too fucking stubborn to even feel any remorse since he was always fucking right about everything like he was now.

“Don’t think about coming back here unless you find me it.” And with that, he slammed the door in your face, leaving you outside the apartment door in the hallway.

You let out a shaky exhale, hands raising and covering your face as you furiously wiped away any tears that threatened to spill. Your hands balled up in your face as you hit your head over and over. You had to think of something. No matter how much of a poker face you put on in front of him, you were still terrified deep down, that feeling would never go away no matter how long you’d been putting up with it for.

You ran through all of your usual options, but you genuinely couldn’t think of one that would work today. It was nearly impossible to get your hands on alcohol in the apocalypse with ration cards, without them you had to resort to other means and you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now.

Just when you thought that all hope was lost, the familiar and far-too-comforting Southern drawl of Joel Miller sounded from across the hallway.

“Y’alright sweetheart?” He asked cautiously. He had heard some banging coming from your apartment and had opened the door to find you standing there, tugging at your hair in frustration and looking like you were about to explode.

You turned to face him, opening your mouth to speak but not really knowing what to say.

How many times had this happened? How many times had your own father terrorised you for any minor inconvenience and blamed you for everything, made you feel stupid and worthless of any attention or love? And how many times had Joel still given you that attention, that love, or whatever it was. Maybe it was love, maybe he was just being nice to you, but you told yourself that’s what love was since you knew no better. Growing up in this world was cruel enough, but without anyone who truly loved you and liked to make sure you knew that every day, nobody to protect you from the monsters - infected and human - that inhibited it, that felt like the worst fate you could suffer.

So were you alright? No. No, of course you weren’t. But you’d say you were just like you had every time, because you didn’t want to bother people with your ‘issues’. As well as numbing yourself from feeling any intense fear or sadness as a result of your father’s endless torment, you also found it incredibly difficult to take pity on yourself. You always felt like your issues were never that real, that your father had a hard life and maybe you should just let him take it out on you.

“I’m..” you began, mustering up a pathetic excuse for a smile as you glanced from his face to the ground in front of your feet, “I’m fine, thank you.”

You knew the exact expression which would be on his face without even needing to look up, having seen it too many times. That one where he looks worried, his brows furrowed as he tries to pick you apart and figure out what the hell was actually going on, slightly angry too as this kept on happening and you still refused to tell him anything. Did you not trust him? Did he do something wrong? He knew he was threatening to people, that’s what he was known for in the QZ. But he had never done anything to you, he’d always tried helping you but you never talked or anything at all with him.

“Do you um- do you have any beer? Any alcohol would be fine really, I just need it right now. I can pay you but I don’t have any ration cards so it would have to be later on unless you could think of anything…” You trailed off at the end, not wanting to say it and give him the option in case he hadn’t thought of it yet, praying he wouldn’t want that.

“Yeah, I got some.” He murmured, before blinking a few times and opening the door to his apartment again, cogs turning in his brain as he still tried to figure out what happened.

“Come in, don’t need ya standin’ there like a lemon.” He said when you stayed fixed to the ground beneath you instead of following him inside like he had very clearly offered when he left the door open after walking in himself.

“Right.” You nodded as you entered his apartment, closing the door gently behind you and watching him as he went over to his cabinets and reached for some whiskey.

You took in his living space. It was clean, organised. The small entryway led straight into the living room which was linked to the kitchen space, a dusty couch in the centre of the room and a coffee table in front of it. A few books were on the table, along with some slightly cracked glasses. You never took Joel to be much of a reader, clearly you were wrong.

There were 2 more doors which were closed and you could only assume that they were the bathroom and his bedroom.

“Hope this ‘s okay.” He said as he appeared in front of you, bottle of whiskey in hand.

“You’re not drinkin’ this all by yourself, are ya?” A smirk appeared on his face as he attempted the light teasing with you, maybe that would cheer you up a bit.

Your expression bore a smile which faltered and faded quickly. If only he knew.

“No, no. It’s for my dad. He ran out so.. Yeah. How do you want me to pay?” You said quietly. Whatever it took, you supposed.

He noticed the dejected look on your face as you looked up at him. So tired. That’s what came to mind whenever he looked at you. Barely an adult and already looking like you were at death’s door whenever he saw you. Exhaustion clouded all of your features and your mind when you trudged up the stairs, down the corridor and up to your apartment door, entering as your shoulders somehow slumped even more.

“Y’ don’t needa pay, sweetheart.” He told you, and you blinked a few times in confusion.

“Really?” There was no way. Alcohol was so hard to come by, and here he was giving you a bottle for free?

“Yeah.” He nodded, making sure you had a good hold on the bottle before letting go of it and pursing his lips as he thought deeply yet again.

“‘F you ever need to talk or anythin’, I’m always here for ya, okay?” He said before you could leave, making you stop with your back towards him as you stood at the door.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered before leaving and returning to your own apartment.

After that, you found yourself on Joel’s doorstep a few more times - you didn’t go every time you needed something, not wanting him to think you were taking advantage of his kindness, so sometimes you were just genuinely hanging out with him.

He had some little books and crosswords, stories to tell you, and one time he’d even come across a VHS tape with a movie from the dawn of time on it which the two of you had watched one evening.

You stayed too late and definitely paid the price for it, but it was worth it, you told yourself as you cleaned the blood from your arms and hissed at the sting of a newly-formed bruise.

Then, one evening, it finally fell apart. He threw you out of the house, quite literally, and you were already knocking on Joel’s door before you could realise what you were doing.

He opened the door and you slammed yourself into him, causing him to let out a little cough as he stumbled back, arms tentatively wrapping around you.

“Woah, woah, y’alright sweetheart?” He asked, taken aback by your sudden action.

“Joel, I- I'm sorry.” You choked out, tightening your hold on him and fisting his shirt.

He ushered you gently into his apartment, closing the door behind you and sitting you down on the couch.

“What's goin’ on? What happened?” He said, watching as you trembled, lip quivering as you tried to formulate a sentence without bursting into tears.

You ultimately failed at that. Only managing the words my dad before a pained sob wracked through your entire body and you were crying into your palms.

Joel rushed to your side, pulling you into him and rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly.

“‘s okay. You can talk to me, tell me what's goin’ on honey.” He told you, pulling back slowly from you to try and make you look at him, frown deepening on his face when he saw how upset you were.

“He- he- kicked me out, ‘cause I didn't- I lost the cards and- he got too angry at me so then- I was mad at him back and he hurt me so I said I didn't want to stay and he-” You stuttered, trying to actually remember what had happened in the first place then explain it as best you could.

His jaw clenched with anger. How could someone do that to their own child? Your father had clearly put you through so much emotionally and physically, and you had done nothing wrong. You were a good kid, and you deserved better than that. He could be better for you.

Your shaky breathing filled the room as he came back to his senses, willing his fury to stop clouding his head so he could focus on what was more important right now - you. He'd deal with him later.

His thumb reached up and wiped a stray tear from your face before he pulled you close again, hugging you tight.

“You stay here, okay? ‘m so sorry sweetheart. I won't let anythin’ bad happen to ya. Y’just gotta let me help you.” He said as you nodded into his shirt, a weak mm-hm muffled by the fabric before he slowly rose from the couch and walked into his kitchen.

He came back with a glass of water, offering it to you. “Drink this.” Your cautious fingers closed around it and brought it to your lips.

“‘s gonna be okay. You can stay here, if you want?” You had come to him, obviously hoping he'd ask you that, but hearing him actually say it gave you relief like nothing else could.

“Y-yes, please.” You said, putting the glass back down on the coffee table as he nodded, helping you up and taking you to his room.

“I'll stay out there on the couch for a bit, okay? ‘til we can sort somethin’ a little more proper out for ya.” He told you, going to find you some clothes that weren't almost completely torn up.

When he returned, he saw you blankly staring at the floor, hands fingering the same strand of hair mindlessly and not even realising him walking up to you.

He sighed, handing you the clothes and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It'll be okay sweetheart. Nothin’ bads gonna happen anymore, he can't hurt you here.” He assured you, hugging you one more time before he left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and requests are open 💞

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?

Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World

Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.

Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.

Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.

Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.

Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?

Here are some other posts that might help:

Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[zahri-melitor]

If you want to read comics and you want to test the waters:-

Yes, RCO and clones exist, everyone uses them, I do it weekly too for titles I cannot access any other way (The Warlord) but let me tell you, it’s not the only option, particularly if you want to read reasonably modern comics back issues rather than deliberately suppressed obscure stuff. Plus, don’t you want to look at comics without worrying about getting viruses?

Your Local Library: your library probably has comics as trade paperbacks, and inter library loan will have more. It’s not the most consistent way to find things, but you should definitely look them up, there’s probably something there you’d be interested in reading. Good for having multiple presses, and most take suggestions for their collections, which is a slow but free way to read titles with highly detailed art like Wonder Woman Historia in person.

Digital libraries: my local libraries have ComicsPlus subscriptions, which I can use for free. Now you won’t get DC or Marvel on them, but BOOM!, Dark Horse, Image, Oni Press, Papercutz? All options. A really helpful way to easily sample other presses.

Internet Archive Library: the IA is again going to have an eclectic collection and be difficult to search, but it’s there and it has a lot of stuff and you’re not going to be worrying about computer viruses.

DCUI: if you’re in US, UK, Canada, AU or NZ, you can get a DCUI account. There’s a free trial available of course, and if what you’re interested in trying was published more than 6 months ago, you don’t even need to shell out for Ultra. It costs me less than a Netflix subscription per month, even for Ultra. There’s also a small handful of comics you’ll be able to access for free without ANY subscription - essentially advertising for new runs etc.

MU: just like DCUI, only Marvel, and available more places. Also runs on a subscription model. MU also has the quirk that you can manage digital ownership of individual issues also through their app (if you buy Marvel floppies there is a mechanism to obtain a legal digital copy within ~6 months of the publication date)

Local Comics Shops: you can also…buy floppies and trade paperbacks for yourself. If you really love a story and it’s out in trade, I highly recommend buying it for yourself to have forever. It just sidesteps so many future problems. An LCS is also more likely to have a back catalogue of titles available - if you’re looking for a trade published 8 years ago, they might have it while an ordinary bookshop won’t. If you’re less certain, events like Free Comic Book Day and Batman Day are largely a marketing exercise more than new original material these days, but they’re also a good way to get to handle and own actual comic books if you’ve never done that before.

Other bookshops: if you don’t have a local bookshop with a specialist comics and manga collection (I do) it’s going to be a bit like trying to find comics at your local library: you’ll see lots of stuff with Batman and Joker in the title, and a random selection of anything else. Sometimes you can get surprisingly good deals from them as collectors are less likely to use them to get titles.

Overstock/Remainder Sellers: always worth a look, particularly if you’re trying to pick up titles printed several years ago. My local one has found some absolute gems for me, at a significant discount (I have picked up parts of Dixon’s Nightwing run, Bennett’s Batwoman run, Rowell’s Runaways, some Wonder Woman trades from Rucka and Perez, Gotham Central, I just managed to get the second n52 Blue Beetle trade…)

EBay/second hand shops/Abebooks/Biblio: a decent way to measure what the actual value of a comic title is on the second hand market. Sometimes you can find that the market value is far lower than you expected (Cassie’s Wonder Girl series is remarkably affordable). In other occasions you realise DC is leaving a LOT of money on the table by not reprinting (look up Red Robin trade prices and weep).

Friends: do you know anyone else who likes comics? They may already own stuff they can loan to you! (Once I lent out my Birds of Prey collection to a friend and he returned it with the first two n52 titles added. Still unsure if that was meant to be a kindness or just letting me store them)

[thisbluespirit]

How To Find Your (British Actor) Blorbo On The Radio: A Brief Guide

(Disclaimer: British, because the main tool I'm using is the BBC's Genome.)

If you want more of your fave actor, or you love full-cast drama podcasts/audios (and audiobooks/NF content too) here's a guide on how to get your hands on BBC Radio broadcasts.

The BBC have a great free resource called Genome, which has all the Radio Times listings from 1922 to the present day (plus some of the actual articles), and it's searchable. Up until its arrival, it was really hard to do that, so \o/

Not all actors do radio and not everything you find will be obtainable, but it's always worth a try! It's especially likely for actor-blorbos who do other audio work, or theatre (theatre tends not to pay so well, and radio is a handy extra thing that can be more easily slotted in between performances than TV/film.)

Go to Genome, and put your blorbo's name into the search box:

Press search, which will bring back a bunch of results from both radio and TV listings from 1922 up to the current year:

2. Filter down to "radio only" on the sidebar to avoid scrolling through all the TV. At the top of the page you can change the display order to First broadcast (or Availability, if you want it only to bring things currently available to stream on the BBC website), among other options.

I can also cut down on extraneous results by selecting a date range that only covers when my guy was active.

I scroll down until I find something that looks interesting, in this case a proper audio drama, called The Hornblower Story. It's from 1980 and is an adaptation of a well known book. The details give me enough info to search the wider internet, and see if I get lucky...

3. Search the internet and listen to your blorbo act in radio drama!

There are several ways to obtain radio drama online. If you use streaming sites like Audible and Spotify, it may be there, although usually only if it's had a commercial release.

The BBC still broadcast old programmes on the radio, so it might be currently available on their website to stream - and unlike TV, you can listen to BBC Radio anywhere in the world! (If you are in the UK, you can also download and use the BBC Sounds app.) The Genome will usually provide a link for you to go straight there, if that's the case.

However, obviously, most BBC Radio from past decades is not available commercially or being broadcast by the BBC now and some doesn't exist in the archives, or was never recorded (as with TV), but as methods of recording audio at home have been widely available since the 1950s and 60s, there are loads of off-air recordings of radio made by listeners/collectors, and some have freely shared their copies online. Some are in closed forums etc., but three good sites to try first are YouTube, RadioEchoes & the Internet Archive.

I usually start with a Google search - e.g. '"Title" radio' or radio bbc and if that doesn't give me anything add on first "Radio Echoes" and then "Internet archive" to the search.

And I'm in luck! Radio Echoes appear to have the adaptation I'm after. I need to check the broadcast dates to see if they match up & then I can stream or download for free - and hear my blorbo play a stern Admiral for 5 minutes or less, hurrah!

Clicking on the links takes you to a screen where you can press play to stream or right click on the play bar to download the mp3 file to your device. (Click the "Save audio as..." option).

These are archive off-air recordings, so the quality can vary, especially for older programmes.

4. Rinse and repeat with each new likely Genome discovery.

If you find a copy of what you're looking for on the Internet Archive instead, you'll get up a page with a play bar (like the one above), with episodes listed plus details (to varying degrees) below. If you want to stream, just click play and enjoy. If you want to download it, then click on the MP3 files line on the right-hand sidebar, which will then give you an "X no of files" button to click and you can download them to keep.

(You can download all the files, but I usually cut straight to the chase and just nab the MP3s.)

Sometimes the BBC have released a commercial audiobook. In those cases, if you already use audio/music streaming subscription sites like Audible or Spotify, you should be able to find it there.

If you don't, or you want to buy a download, I've found the best option (weirdly!) (for UK users, at any rate) is to get the audiobook up at Penguin Books, which links to various paid subscription streaming and download options, so you can find the best one for you (and you know it's been recced by a hopefully reputable source.)

Last year, I wanted to buy Vivat Rex, the BBC's landmark dramatisation of all the English history plays rolled into one giant starry-cast Jacobean audio serial, and successfully used this route. (I'm very old by internet terms and still like listening via MP3 files on my MP3 player, as long as it survives.)

Pretty much the only affordable download option I've found so far I got courtesy of Penguin's links to Hive. (But this may be a UK only option.)

If what you're looking for seems likely to exist even if you can't find it by any of these methods - keep trying! New things are being added daily to all these websites, and the BBC cycle round old shows all the time.

And if you want to go deeper, there are closed forums etc. for radio enthusiasts where you need to make an account, but you may then be able to torrent or download an even wider variety of things.

Of course, whether or not your blorbo has been in anything good or any radio at all will depend on them, but I hope this guide will help enable you to find out!

YouTube, Radio Echoes, the Internet Archive and Old Time Radio all have radio from other countries too. So while the BBC Genome can't help you with anywhere outside the UK, the other links here can be good places to look around and browse for things you might be interested in.

You can of course use the same methods to search for things like a favourite author, or particular plays, to see if the BBC have done any radio adaptations - BBC Radio have done heaps of things that have never been adapted on screen, so it's always worth a look for anything you'd be into.

Radio Echoes is browsable as well as searchable, and while Internet Archive is a bit less so, there are some excellent collections you can look through, like the Saturday Night Theatre collection, and the BBC Radio Shows listings.

[love-lightning-forethought]

Dead Girls Walking

Chapter 1: The Basement and The Photos

TW: Child abuse and Applied SA

“Let me out, you dick!” Anastasia pounded on the door. "What the hell did I do?!"

She was confused on why her dad had even locked her in this time. She hadn't even said anything to set him off this time.

He hit the door back, making her jump and stop banging. "You'll be let out in the morning."

"You've got to be shitting me!"

She was met with silence.

She sighed, turning around to the stairs she nearly got pushed down.

He nearly broke my neck and killed me over something I don't even know I did.

She went to grab her phone, only to remember that it was on the ground of the living room

"Motherfucker...." She muttered, starting to feel around for the light switch.

She found it and started making her way down the stairs.

She coughed. There had to be enough dust to give her a lung

infection.

"Great."

The air was musty and smelt of mould. Shocking, I know.

Damn really need some Febreze in this bitch

She sighed. She definitely wasn't getting much sleep tonight.

She looked around, trying to find a sleeping bag or something. She'd doubts there'd be a good one but it was a worth a shot.

As she searched, different thoughts appeared in her head.

Would she ever get out of here? Sure, once she turned 18 she could legally leave, but where would she go?

Her grandma’s was the best option, but she lived 3 states away. How was she even going to get there?

It’s not like she could get a way out for herself. Her dad basically has her tracked, always on his leash of control.

He said it was for her safety, but Anastasia knew better.

She spotted a window. A small one, but anything was better than the smell of mould.

One issue. The window was definitely out of her reach.

"Fucks sake." She muttered. Time to pray she didn't break her ankles doing this.

She pulled the most structurally sound container to under the window, and gently stood on it for a second.

Seems good enough, I guess

She stood up on it, holding her breath.

"Don't break don't break don't break don't-" She mumbled as she fiddled with the window.

The window was built weirdly. She couldn't push it out, she had to pull it.

No wonder it smelt disgusting in here. The rain just got let in if the window was opened.

She pulled on the window. Unsurprisingly, it didn't really move.

She sighed once more, before it turned into a slight gag.

It was starting the smell like dead animal in there, and Anastasia felt sick smelling it.

She pulled harder, desperate to not smell that.

"Come on... come on!" She said with every yank. "Bitch, open!"

She managed to pull it open, tumbling backwards off the container, the container flipped with her.

"FUCK!" She hissed, the container landing about 3 inches from her face.

Well that's about three inches from an concussion

She slowly sat up, wincing slightly.

She looked down at her wrist. "Oh, that's bad..."

It was already starting to bruise.

As she stared down, a picture fluttered down into her lap. Her face paled as she saw it.

She flipped it over.

Jessica Baird. 1995

Where the hell did this come from? They made sure that everything was scrubbed from the face of the earth after the accident. Like Jessica never existed.

She let out a shaky breath as she heard the door unlock.

"Anastasia..." Her dad's voice boomed, his words drunkenly slurred.

She quickly shoved the photo in her pocket, feeling tears roll down her cheeks as she heard him walk down the stairs.

God, she hoped it would be over quickly.

***

It had been several months since that day, and Anastasia had pushed any memories of Jessica to the back of her mind.

Things had been better now. She was at camp, got adopted by a 17 year old (don't ask it's a long story) and had actually make some friends. All while she was out of her dad's grip of control.

"See you around , Cameron!" She called, having finished training with the Ares kids. Perks of having no siblings, you might say.

She walked (more like jogged) to back to her cabin. Perfect way to finish training. A long ass walk back to her cabin.

There were plenty of people around, either heading to or from people’s cabins.

It was a regular thing to see around camp. Unless it was lights out, there were always people everywhere.

When Anastasia finally arrived to her cabin, two girls were out the front.

“What’s up?” She walked up them.

“Look.” Brook pointed to the door.

“That’s a door.”

She sighed and pulled off something stuck to it. “I meant this.”

Anastasia took it from her. It was the same photo she had found in the basement that day. Along with it was a note.

BURIED AT MASON'S POINT

"Wait-"

"So, it's the same for you, right?" Finley spoke, pulling out her own photo and note. "It says they're buried were they weren't, or for me, I assume they weren't."

Brook pulled out hers as well. All three of them had the same note, BURIED AT MASON'S POINT scribbled on it.

"We asked around, mainly with Mum's other kids, but it seems we're the common denominator." Brook explained.

"These important people to you?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's my dad." Finley said.

"And my sister." Brook added.

"And this is my aunt." Anastasia sighed. "And I'm figuring they're all... you know..."

"Dead? Yeah." Brook said dryly.

"That can't be it, right? There has to be more then we're just friends that all have dead family members. Everyone here fits into that category at this point." Finley ran a hand through her hand.

Brook nodded, and Anastasia agreed. "It's way to board of a thing to pick us."

"I swear if there's a prophecy-"

"Don't. Don't even think about it." Anastasia cut Finley off.

"It's a little hard not to, Annie." Brook pointed out.

"I know. Sorry. Just-"

"It's a prophecy. And prophecy's come with sacrifices. Who knows what we could lose if there is one."

All of them fell silent. That sentence echoed in Anastasia's head. Who knows what we could lose if there is one. It was less of a what and more of a who at this point.

"Look," Finley broke the silence. "Clearly, the answers are at Mason's Point.'

"Yeah, but how on earth would we be able to leave camp?" Anastasia asked.

"We'd need a quest, which means-" Brook spoke.

"A prophecy." The other two groaned.

"Bingo." She sighed.

"Maybe we should just ignore it? It could be a trap." Brook suggested, although she didn't seem to sure of her words.

"Everything is a trap at this point..." Anastasia said quietly.

"I don't know what to do." Finley groaned.

"None of us do." Brook looked to both of them anxiously. "It's not like we have to find the answer. There's no prophecy, or quest or anything. It might just be best to ignore it for now."

Anastasia knew she had a point, and it was a point she really wanted to believe.

"Yeah." She agreed. "There's no stakes to this. Just creepy photos."

"I still think there's more to it." Finley voiced. "But, you are right about there being no oblations."

"So, just pretend this never happened?" Anastasia asked.

"What happened on the porch, stays on the porch." Finley agreed.

Brook looked at her photo. "Oh, shit. I gotta go to the infirmary." She shoved the photo and noted in her pocket. "See you later!"

"Bye!" Finley called, before turning to Anastasia. "I'm really hoping that's nothing..."

"Same here, Fin. Same here."

Notes:

Accounts/oc's mentioned:

@number-one-ares-kid

and jack's kids (You know who you are, I ain't tagging all of you)

PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK I LOVE FEEDBACK, EVEN IF IT'S YOU SAYING YOU DIDN'T LIKE (IF YOU GIVE REASONS)

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @dianedantedominic @kaiaalwayswins

@that-girl-cupid @delilah-isnt-dead-yett @daonedaonlyskh

@aria-pane @poseidons-hyperactive-kid @wine-cooper @i-am-persephones-daughter @unhinged-waterlilly

@demigod-jack-hearth @seed-of-the-pomegranate @you-know-you-want-me @istglevi-gotmesimping

@if-chaos-was-a-boy @ariathemortal @i-was-never-sane @gaygirldoodles @superbstarlightsheep

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

[poisonousquinzel]

"the only reason Harley's called Harley Quinn and not Harleen Quinzel or some other moniker is because the Joker manipulated her into thinking the similarity in her name and the name of a specific type of clown meant they were destined to be together and that means she's intrinsically tied to him forever and can't exist as a character on her own because her origin is tied to him" ass take has gotta be the worst one I've seen as of late,,, like really can't lie it's stuck in my head lol 😭

i wish i could go about life misunderstanding characters this much and thinking that one who's been a canonical domestic abuse victim since her og origin episode / comic, who is partly (story wise) inspired by a real life dv victim who survived

In the afterword, artist Bruce Timm shares that their Harley was based in part on a real-life friend who was stuck in an abusive relationship: “I’m happy to report that the ‘real-life Harley’ did finally break away from her ‘Joker’ and has been happily married to another man for several years now.”

[Source]

is a character who's "girlbossified" when she's allowed to grow past and outside of her abuser himself,, and that that means idk writing her without him dilutes her character and takes away everything interesting and flawed about her? that she should never be written without him / without her world revolving around him, due to him being the catalyst in her origin?

The Joker's part of her origin because he was the root cause of her fall, the villain, the bad guy, the abuser. that doesn't mean she's required to be forever tied to him?

This isn't even a problem in the actual comics or anything. It's just absolutely 100% not.

No one even pretends Joker isn't intrinsically tied to her story, or more specifically her trauma. No one in real life and no one in their universe.

Tim Drake literally mentioned The Joker in like the last chapter of her (2021 - ) comic ffs!!! 😭

"Did the Joker make you want to do that? Do you wanna unpack that, Harley? Do you wanna talk about The Joker?!"

Harley Quinn (2021-) #42

But it's almost like people grow and heal and evolve. Her codependency and shit are flaws that are not permanent and are things she (can) and is working on.

She's riddled with flaws and they've gone nowhere! she's just trying her best to stay afloat and better herself bit by bit because she isn't Dr. Harleen Quinzel anymore, she can never walk into a medical building and apply and expect them to not know who she is upon a singular search in the system.

She's just Harley Quinzel now, she still has the skills and experience and schooling, but she also has a long serious criminal record, severe mental health issues and is living in a city that rightfully does not trust her. She can't go back, she can't get her old life back, and she can't go back to being Her, The OG "New & Improved" Harley Quinn who's world revolved around 1 person and him alone, because she would die.

He'd kill her, maybe not immediately, but he would be the death of her.

And she knows that. It's a lose lose.

The only real option she has is to lay down and die or to survive. To float and swim bit by bit until she finds stable ground.

Until she finds a way to live with herself again.

Harley's "obliviousness" is a coping mechanism that we literally see her dealing with since BTAS.

A warped world view that does in fact make her actions more complex,, and makes the aftermath / come down all the harder for her as she has to grapple with the internal traumatic response to Everything with Joker while also dealing with the world she's waking up to and realizing the real reality of her actions and the actual pain it left behind. It's literally been in her character plain as day since her First Personal Comic from 2000!

It's something taken seriously and something she knows, regardless if she even remembers the crime, that she has a responsibility to take accountability for. She almost lets Clown Hunter execute her because she was involved in his parents death, even though she doesn't remember the night, she trusts Batman enough that if he says she was there, she was. And she's going to own up to being there. She starts a therapy group for ex clowns post Joker War, she's become a (court ordered) professor and during all of these arcs Joker and his influence on her and her life are mentioned and acknowledged and present.

He's not been removed as an intrinsic aspect of her story, but he is no longer the center of her world and that is a good thing.

It's almost like character growth after 30 goddamn years is something that happens.

And! you know who else is intrinsically tied to Harley Quinn's character just as much as The Joker?

Poison Ivy and Batman.

Her three primary connections since the Beginning, since the original series that everyone wants to pretend was so so different about her than it ever was, was Joker, Batman and Ivy.

And a primary goal (Harley wise) for 2/3 people she's been connected to since Batman The Animated Series has literally been to get her away from the 3rd. They've just successfully helped save her in most universes now, even when she's the one who pulls the trigger in the end.

It's been over 4 years since I made this blog and I still cannot wrap my head around this fandom's deep seeded hatred and disdain for actual character development.

"Sorry", but that's just such a disgusting take built on misinformed foundations and idk a personal rage for bad guy characters not being bland, predictable one note entertainment for the rest of their miserable existence in comics until they're shelved for being fucking boring one note d-list characters?

[thebestcrew]

While blocking we noticed people were getting pissed about "endos" coming at the new application Octocon (also searching it just gives links about an Irish Convention soooo thats fun).

Apparently, it's because we are mad endogenic plurality isn't being included as its primary target audience???? Really? You think that's it?

You think its because we don't want traumagenic systems to have their own tools? To have an application that focuses on them and not us?

Baby girl, that's not what people are doing. (If this is your reason for attacking the application, then kindly remove yourself from the internet).

You now have a dedicated tool for traumagenic systems to use with resources (im assuming) specifically for CDD systems. And that's great! Fantastic! Glad to see more options and variety out there for systems. My only problem with it is that it doesn't allow freedom to speak about plurality outside of what the people who run it deem as "acceptable".

The thing is, if you are making an application for traumagenic systems, then you are making it for ALL traumagenic systems. That includes pro endo traumagenic systems or traumagenic systems with created headmates. Crazy idea, am I right?

This is a lie. It's not inclusive. You can't freely share experiences. This is why I am going after the app and saying it needs to advertise appropriately. The only time you get a real taste of what the community stands for is when you join the Discord server. *If* you join the discord server.

Again, you can have your tools. I'm happy for you. But I'm going to be critical of it just like I was critical of the syspunk tag. Saying something is inclusive means you must also be inclusive to traumagenic systems that experience plurality outside of their trauma. That also have created headmates. That also support endogenic plurality. Who's experience isn't going to align with what you think is "correct".

Technically, everyone can use this app and you've acknowledged you can't stop them. So again, no reason for anyone to be jelous or mad.

BUT when anti endos are celebrating the application, and then you see Octocon's stance on endogenic plurality, it's QUITE clear it's just another anti endo application, and people have a right to know.

You aren't JUST about misinformation. It's okay to admit it. Admit you are an anti, its fine. But for the safety of traumatized systems who may join your "welcoming and inclusive" community, they have a right to know upfront. People have a right to know who and what they are supporting without having to join the Discord server. They have a right to know because there are traumatized systems that have been hurt and fakeclaimed constantly by other traumagenic systems who are "against misinformation" and endogenic plurality. AKA anti-endos. Facts.

I'm not crying about Octocon existing and being a tool for traumagenic systems. Again, I'm thrilled to see more resources for systems. It should be something to celebrate. But, false advertising really grinds my gears. So yeah. I'm going to bitch about it.

I'm not trying to murder your project right out the door. I just want proper transparency.

If you want to discuss this and vouch for the application, then please feel free to. If you are blocked, sorry, you'll just have to sit on it. If you are a traumagenic (not an anti) and think I'm being unfair, then also let me know!

[20dollarlolita]

A little guide on how to use Lolibrary to research for handmade lolita fashion:

We've talked about EGL coord mood boards, where you collect a bunch of images that you think will help you communicate your ideas and surround you with inspiration. When you're asking for help with lolita ideas, presenting a mood board immediately lets everyone know a lot about what you're trying to make and the route you're trying to take to get there.

I also use the technique for researching as well, but you have to approach the process of what exactly you put on the board slightly differently.

For example, today I wanted to make a skirt for a friend. I know that this friend wears a lot of sweet lolita, and a lot of Angelic Pretty. I also knew what fabric I had. So, off we go to Lolibrary. If you're new and you've never been there, it's your new favorite website. It documents lolita fashion history and it's such a powerful resource that I don't think any other fashion out there has.

Lolibrary has a very elaborate search system. When I'm looking for advice on how to construct something, I like to put in search parameters so that I have a like 15-30 pages to look through. You want it specific enough that you're looking for the thing you're looking for, but not so specific that there's only four results.

In this case, I knew I wanted something inspired by Angelic Pretty, and I knew it was going to be a skirt. So, that's our search terms, and we get about 30 pages of results. If you don't have 15+ pages of results, you're probably going to want to widen your search a little. You can specify multiple categories like "Skirt, JSK, OP, or Salopette" which will find you results that are any of the four in there. You can search Angelic Pretty but also Baby the Stars Shine Bright and MAM. You are researching, so you need to have enough results to research.

Right now, we're differing from a mood board in that we are not collecting things that we want. We are looking at what exists.

So here I have a whole page of skirts. We now need to narrow it down into skirts that sort of look like skirts made with the fabric like the fabric we have. Wow, that's a sentence.

So now, in a background tab, I open every single result that looks like it was made with fabric with a similar fabric to mine. In my case, it was all-over prints of a certain size. And I just keep going. I'm not even looking at the skirts yet. I'm just opening tabs.

Once I have like 60+ tabs open and Firefox is questioning its life, I start copying the main picture off each listing and slapping them all onto a board. I like to make a big canvas (like 1500x1500) in GIMP and then just dropping the pictures on there. The whole idea here is just to be able to see all the results at once. However, I usually will sort of start lining them up a little bit.

For example, on this one, I started sort of putting more complex designs in the top right, and simpler designs in the bottom left. If I saw that something was constructed very similarly to how another skirt was constructed, I would sort of try to put them next to each other. However, I really don't get too caught up in the "it has to be right" process here. The entire purpose of this is so that I can then close those 75+ firefox tabs and save my browser.

And now that everything is on one page, we can start looking for patterns. What things do I see a lot on this page? I see a lot of 3-flounce skirts. I see a lot of skirts with a lot of tiers and lace and detailing. And I see a lot of skirts with a ruffle on the bottom and a little bow on the waistband. From this, I can look at how much fabric I have, how long I have to make this, and how much work I want to put into this garment today.

And now that I have these skirts, most of which have similar construction in some aspect (don't look at the very top or very bottom ones. They don't know what they're doing here), I have multiple options to look at for the fine details of what proportions I should be looking for in both "how wide should this ruffle be" and "how big should this waist bow be". Prior to this search, yeah, I know a lot about how a lolita skirt could be constructed, but this taught me a lot of nuance of how Angelic Pretty constructs their skirts that have a relatively large all-over print.

Someone told me that my print I had felt very Emily Temple Cute, and while I love that brand a lot, it's not my friend's style. So making sure I was referencing Angelic Pretty skirts and not Emily Temple Cute skirts can help me confirm that I'm making something my friend will wear more than something I would wear.

So anyway, there you go. The secret is all in finding that initial search, specific enough that you don't have 100 pages to go through, but open enough that you do have like 15-30 pages to go through.

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Okay so here’s my thoughts on the staffcon thing.

I still think collapsing reblogs so posts look more like other social media isn’t gonna work as a feature but they will probably roll them back a little and at least add a toggle off for it if they try it and enough people submit feedback. Edit: this is actually less of an issue, most of the discussion is based on a misrepresentation of what’s happening. They’re just making it easier to scroll past long posts. EDIT AGAIN: actually some people already have the initial roll out of the feature and it. Is bad.

I think submitting feedback is a takeaway. There was a pretty clear effort to just remind the user base that there are real humans on the other side of a paycheck having to read and respond to the inputs of every feedback method on the site, which is fair. It’s easy to be an asshole online in any semi anonymous platform and that is something that tumblr culture takes a certain bloodthirsty pleasure in.

And yes, of course, user complaints about issues such as accessibility and the many ongoing glitches and bots and the search function, etc. are valid and do need to be addressed. But at the very least it would be cool if we as users maybe try to cultivate a slightly less pitchforky social norm when submitting feedback about changes to the site. The ceo is not reading every @ to his blog. One of his employees is. The people reading all of the feedback are just people doing their jobs. All jobs suck under capitalism, maybe we could try not to make their jobs actively worse.

Would you be rude to an overworked server in a restaurant? No? Cool also try to not be a dick to the person getting paid to answer customer or user complaints.

Related to that, funding. Many current and former members of staff have been pretty frank about funding in the past. The company is trying to at the very least breakeven, which not a single company who has owned tumblr has managed because the hosting fees for this site are insane due to all of the stuff on it.

If they don’t get it to breakeven they’ll hopefully best case just open source the website which is a method they’ve done in the past. And it would probably work, and then the website would to my understanding be being maintained by users. Now this is where my understanding gets fuzzy so anyone with more knowledge of how this would shake out feel free to chime in. But my understanding is that the source code for the site would be opened up and maintained by the community likely through mostly volunteer work. I would guess largely uncompensated.

So personally I think maybe the vitriolic response to every change they make going forward to try and monetize the site and pay even some of the cost of operation is perhaps a bit overblown, because they’re still trying to find a way to keep paying those people to work on tumblr, and I think people continuing to be paid for the work they do is better than volunteers doing unpaid labor.

I do also think there’s a secret third option for automattic and every other company finding themselves with a worse outlook now the Silicon Valley bubble has started to really burst, and that is for all existing staff members to unionize and then turn the whole thing into a worker coop. Much more stable organizational structures. Worker coops are also one of my favorite short term solutions to many other systemic problems we are currently experiencing.

I do hope this site continues to exist for many years, especially as it is one of the only places on the internet where the culture makes it safer to talk about some of the more permanent and long term solutions to various systemic issues that function within societies. Also funny text posts.

[jbbuckybarnes]

How Peter Parker would comfort and care for a depressed loved one

(don't mind me, just some self-indulgence I wrote when I was in the trenches of depression)

• "No, no, no, what we're not gonna do is feel guilty. This world is a depressing place when the rest of you isn't stable. And the world loves making people unstable."

• He'd meal prep for you, wake you up on time to keep your rhythm in check, bring you sleep tea, watch movies with you on particularly bad days.

• "What's your current take on going outside? Vitamin D might do you good." He'd ask cautiously.

• You'd tense up at the idea of spending more energy than you had but knew it was needed to get better.

• "I can...carry you to the rooftop?" He'd raise his brow.

• You'd do grabby hands at him from the bed.

• You'd chill on the sunny rooftop for 45 minutes every now and then, not talking much, just existing.

• "What are your thoughts on therapy?" He'd mumble a few weeks down the line.

• "The only thing my insurance covers is CBT. I fucking hate CBT."

• "What if we figure out a way to pay someone you can choose?"

• "I don't wa-" "Na-ah, friends help friends survive."

• Please imagine Spider-Man making a couple extra bucks by helping people install solar panels and carrying heavy stuff.

• He'd sit down next to you with a laptop and you'd search for therapy options.

• "DBT. IFS. EFT. The other EFT. Hypnotherapy. Logo Therapy. Integrative Therapists for Psychedelics. Somatic Experiencing." Even he was overwhelmed with the option.

• "IFS. Hypnotherapy. Maybe Logo Therapy." You mumbled and he decluttered the tabs.

• You landed on a woman doing both IFS & Hypnotherapy. Both things that intrigued you.

• "I mean if nothing else works...drugs still exist." You'd shrug and he'd smirk at that.

• He'd bring you to your first appointment giving you the biggest hug before you went in.

• The woman would explain to you that you needed to get mentally resourced first and that she'd try with a specific type of hypnosis to see if that helps.

• When Peter saw you get out of the building he'd instantly put his arm around you while walking.

• "I'm so tired." You'd mumble leaning against him while walking, trusting him to lead the way while you were spacing out, "Gonna tell you about it after a long sleep."

• You'd wake up the next morning with energy. Still depressed, but not quite as depressed as the previous days. He slept over to make sure there were no weird aftereffects.

• You would look at him sleeping and get up to make yourself something simple to eat.

• He'd peek his eye open before both of them were wide open seeing you standing in the kitchen.

• "Woah." He mumbled before getting up and hugging you.

• "How was it?" You paused for a second, "That's what he said."

• You told him what the hypnosis felt like and that you went back to the origin of your depression and did some inner child work thing. And the hypnosis took a lot more out of you than you expected. And now you had more energy and hoped it wasn't short-form placebo.

• "Even if it is, she can still do the other work with you." You nodded.

• "Can we go for a short walk?" He'd eagerly nod.

• Over the weeks you'd get better and better at coping with your symptoms and connecting to your inner parts. You'd figure out your triggers and how to calm yourself out of them.

• He'd love to see you flourish and take you on little friend (👀) dates all across New York City the more energy you'd have.

• He'd make sure you'd keep seeing the beautiful things in the world. He'd program your TV to not show news. He'd actually send you good news deliberately.

• "We should live together." You'd suggest.

• "If you can handle the feds searching the apartment at some point." He'd giggle.

• "I'd be good with that. I'd hide little things making it awkward for them." You both laughed.

[hotshotsxyz]

a mile further (or ten)

(buddie) (1k words) (6x02 spoilers) I'm not even going to pretend im not on my angsty bullshit with this one I love my traumatized firefighters <3

The thing is, Hen is probably right. 

Buck can acknowledge that. 

It’s what the whole couch thing is about, isn’t it? No one’s just going to hand him happiness or fulfillment or whatever on a silver platter. The answer isn’t in a book, or on the lips of a man who was dead before they ever got to him. 

Maybe there is no answer. 

Maybe that’s the point. 

Maybe it’s something he’ll be searching for his entire life, and in his last moments he’ll be close enough to taste it, only for the blood in his mouth to sour the flavor permanently. 

He still hasn’t quite managed to shake that metallic tang. 

Buck sits in the single recliner in the center of his empty living room and thinks. Thinks because it’s the only option left, isn’t it? Thinks, because there’s got to be something he’s missing. Something he’d be able to see, if only he could open his eyes against the bright sunlight that must be shining somewhere. Thinks because—

There’s a soft knock before a key turns in the lock to his front door. 

Thinks because Hen is probably right, but the closest he ever seems to get to an answer is when he’s with Eddie, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. 

The taste of blood in his mouth is as strong as ever. 

“Me and Chim missed you at breakfast,” Eddie says, dropping a plastic bag on his kitchen counter. 

Buck pushes himself up from the recliner. “Wasn’t hungry,” he replies quietly. 

“And now?” Eddie asks. 

Buck grimaces as his stomach growls. 

Eddie laughs, a bright, happy thing that sometimes seems like it shouldn’t exist in Buck’s cavernous loft. 

“I brought you a crepe,” Eddie says, pulling a plastic container from the bag. “They didn’t let me add blueberries, though, so I grabbed some from that stand on the corner.” He holds up another, smaller container and shakes it. 

“You didn’t have to.”

Eddie shrugs. “I wanted to.”

Something warm unfurls itself in Buck’s chest, and he settles next to Eddie at the island. 

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles, taking the fork Eddie hands him. 

Eddie bumps his shoulder. 

The crepe is good, still warm despite the traffic Eddie must’ve fought on his way over. For a few moments, the sweet blueberries and fresh cream are the only things he can taste. It’s nice, the reprieve. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asks, when Buck sets his fork down. 

Buck frowns, turns the question over in his mind for a moment before he can answer. “I’m not… sure if I should.”

“Not what I asked,” Eddie says gently. 

Buck lets out a soft sigh. “Do you ever feel like you’re just… going in circles?”

“I did.”

“What changed?”

Eddie lets out another laugh, this time soft, barely more than a huff of air. “You,” he says. “More than once, actually. But I’m pretty sure you knew that.”

Buck ducks his head. “I mean… why did it change, though? How?”

A long moment passes before Eddie answers him. “Do you remember when we met?”

Despite himself, Buck snorts. “You mean that first day, when I was trying to out-flex you and you taught Chim how to take selfies?”

Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “A little later than that. When you introduced me to Carla, actually.”

“Man,” Buck says quietly, “that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It kind of does,” Eddie acknowledges. “I was so sure that I had to find all the answers on my own. And then you just… swept in and gave them to me. Just like that.”

“I didn’t—”

Eddie fixes him with an unimpressed look and continues. “It was the first time I ever felt like I could just… trust, that someone had my back.”

Buck bumps his shoulder. “Always do,” he says quietly. 

Eddie nods and continues speaking. “I wasn’t ready to accept that, though. I still felt like I had to rely on just myself. Not because I was alone, but because I didn’t want the people I—I didn’t want to burden you or anyone else with any of my baggage.”

Buck looks up from his scraps, only to find himself trapped in Eddie’s gaze, unable to make himself look away.

“So I carried it. I carried it until it was too heavy to bear, and a mile further after that. And when I couldn’t take another step, you came and picked it up like it was nothing.”

“I am pretty strong,” Buck jokes half-heartedly. 

Eddie shoves his shoulder, then allows his hand to fall to Buck’s elbow. “So am I,” he says, with a meaningful look. “So whatever it is you’re carrying right now, how about you give some of it to me.”

“Hen said that I need to find some answers on my own,” Buck says, fighting the urge to pull away. 

“Hen’s a smart person,” Eddie says. “It doesn’t mean she’s always right.”

The corner of Buck’s mouth ticks up into a smile. “But you are?”

Eddie barks out a short laugh. “Hardly. But I think I might be this time.”

“So what, I just ask you for the meaning of life and you say forty-two?” Buck jokes. 

“Nah,” Eddie says. “You ask me for the meaning of life, and I promise to help you find it.”

“Just like that?” Buck asks. 

“It might take us a few tries,” Eddie replies. 

“I just… want to get things right. I want to be at ease,” Buck says, looking at his hands. 

Eddie trails his fingers from Buck’s elbow to his wrist. “I know you do,” he says softly, seriously. “I’m not sure there’s an answer that gets you there all the time. But that feeling you’re looking for, I’m going to help you find it. If it means buying a new couch or interviewing all the senior citizens in Los Angeles or reading the entire self-help section in Barnes and Noble, we’ll find it together.”

“Eds?” 

The fingers around his wrist tighten in acknowledgement. 

“Thank you,” Buck says softly.

The answer he’s looking for feels like it’s on the tip of his tongue. 

The taste of blood is as strong as ever. 

[verona2314]

Judgment of the Damned (translation) PART X

LINK PART IX

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Chapter 10: Convergence of Wills

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Hello everyone! I'm very sorry for my absence these weeks. I've been a bit busy with some things, but I promise to keep uploading more chapters. Thank you for following this story, I appreciate you all very much, my dear readers. <3

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Vox

The bustling and chaotic streets of Hell were more agitated than usual. The news about the possible existence of a judge from Limbo spread with relentless speed. It was no surprise that the higher-ups were employing all their resources and sources of information to locate the judge. It was a race against time where the winner would take all the advantages, and Vox was not willing to lose.

For the Overlord, the captured images were more than enough evidence that Limbo was real and, therefore, all the legends related to it were real as well. Undoubtedly, having a minor judge as an ally would be a powerful card, but caution must be exercised. Forcing a being from that plane would be complete recklessness. The only way to use a judge from Limbo would be by creating a solid friendship through manipulations, or finding something to blackmail them with. Bribery was always an option, of course, but for Vox, it was not a very reliable guarantee.

Setting aside those details, the primary concern was finding the judge. That's why Vox had spent the morning reviewing the recordings from the drones scattered around the area, although without much success. This had put him in a bad mood. It also didn't help that the cannibals constantly shot down his devices due to their strange repudiation of anything foreign to their outdated "style." As a result, he didn't have many images of the scene. This led him to wonder: why would a judge from Limbo be near the cannibal district?

"I see you're still playing with your screens," Valentino said mockingly, lighting a cigarette. "Haven't had any luck? Oh, what a pity."

"Val, the last thing I need right now is for you to fuck me. We need to find her first," he replied, frowning, trying to keep his patience.

"Oh, come on. Nobody has more eyes than you in this city. If anyone's going to find her first, it's you," his companion said, gently stroking his shoulder.

"Wait... there's someone who has more eyes, who keeps more up to date than I do," Vox couldn't understand how he hadn't thought of it before. "Tell Velvet to search her social networks for any videos, photos, stories she finds about the judge or that have been captured near the scene."

"Alright, I'll tell her. Anything else?," the moth man inquired.

“With your shitty eyesight? No, thank you,"replied Vox without taking his eyes off the screens.

"That was unnecessary. Well, if you have such great vision, how come you didn't notice a certain someone in the background of that video?" Valentino retorted, pointing to one of the screens with his long cigarette.

"What are you talking about?" Vox asked, squinting as he leaned closer to the device. It was playing a video recorded by a citizen's phone and had been featured in the news. Carefully and with effort, he studied the image, trying to spot what his companion was referring to. Suddenly, he noticed it. It was just a fraction of seconds. Amidst the chaotic crowd stood Alastor. "How the hell did you see that?"

"Huh? I'd recognize that red blotch anywhere," Valentino shrugged nonchalantly. "Anyway, I don't think it's relevant. Doesn't he usually frequent the cannibal district? It's probably just a coincidence."

"With Alastor, you can never be too sure. Did you already message Velvet?" Vox inquired.

"Yeah, yeah. You're so impatient. She's sending you what she gathered," Valentino muttered, a little irritated. "She says to stop bothering her. She can't believe you're not capable of doing this on your own, and..."

Vox ignored the rest of the comments and projected the images and videos received from Velvet onto all his screens, scrutinizing every pixel in search of Alastor. His instinct told him that the radio demon must be involved in some way. After a few minutes of intense concentration, Vox finally spotted something intriguing. In the background of one video, he saw Alastor crossing a narrow street from side to side, holding... a rug? The image was blurry, and Vox struggled to make out the details. As he tried to enhance the clarity, he noticed something even more suspicious: it looked like there was a hand peeking out from the folds of the fabric Alastor was carrying. Was he transporting a body? Why bother to conceal it? After all, Alastor was a sadist who didn't mind flaunting his actions proudly. Perhaps he was overthinking it, but he could bet that the person Alastor was hauling was the judge.

"Shit," he whispered. Once again, the radio demon had beaten him to it. But all was not lost. He still had a chance to take the judge. Perhaps Alastor had her captive, and he could rescue her, thereby earning the woman's trust. Though, knowing his enemy, he'd likely already be trying to manipulate her. "I think it's time for a new broadcast," he said aloud, smiling broadly. He already had a plan in mind.

Charlie

She stood nervously in front of Victoria's room door. That morning, the judge had already awakened, and Charlie greatly wished to finally have an extensive conversation with her. Would it be rude to disturb her on the same day she woke up? Should she have brought some token like candy or a greeting card? Should she mention her concerns about redemption or stick to superficial conversation?

She shook her head, trying to silence her doubts. She exhaled deeply before determinedly knocking on the door.

"Come in," Victoria's melodious voice responded.

Charlie entered the room carefully. To her surprise, Adrian was seated in a chair next to the judge's bed, who was still resting. Apparently, both were engaged in lively conversation.

"Hello, Miss Charlie," Victoria greeted with a tray of food on her lap.

"Hi, Your Honor," the princess replied with a nervous smile. "I see Adrian brought you lunch?"

"Oh yes. He feels very indebted for the whole situation," the judge added with a soft smile. Adrian glanced down at the floor a little embarrassed. "And call me Victoria. You don't have to be so formal with me, Charlie."

"That's adorable! I can't blame him. Yesterday he told us how brave you were in facing that guy," Charlie replied, feeling more at ease.

"You call it bravery; most call it recklessness," Victoria replied, laughing lightly. "Adrian was telling me how he ended up in hell and how happy he is to be here. He's very grateful to you too, Charlie."

"It's true, princess," Adrian added with a broad smile. "I never thought I could feel so good in hell. I promise to do my best in this redemption business. We'll show everyone that it's possible."

"Oh, thank you so much," Charlie replied, moved by the sinner's enthusiasm. However, deep down, she felt a little guilty for not being able to tell him the truth, that redemption was no longer just a possibility but a reality. She looked at Victoria, trying to see if she felt even slightly uncomfortable about hiding the truth from Adrian, but the woman seemed completely calm.

After a few minutes of casual conversation, Adrian bid farewell to both and left the room, taking the tray with him.

"So, Charlie," Victoria said in a more serious tone. "Do you believe redemption is for everyone? In my case, I think not," the judge abruptly inquired. Apparently, she was a straightforward person who didn't beat around the bush or use embellished words.

"I know you think in that way, Your Honor, I mean Victoria," the blonde replied after sighing. "I understand that not everyone feels ashamed of their actions, and many aren't even aware of the harm they caused. But maybe they can come to realize it if someone shows them. If someone teaches them. For me, this hotel isn't just about keeping them away from vices or bad deeds, but also about providing them with a change of perspective. I want them to learn something new, to understand the gravity of their decisions, and to start feeling remorse for the actions that led to their damnation. To be able to gain a new perspective. Achieve a remodeling of their thoughts."

"Your way of thinking is very noble, but you must also consider that many are lost causes. And you must be careful of them," Victoria pointed out, looking at her hands with a hint of nostalgia.

"I know, but even to those you call 'lost causes,' I must give them a chance. The outcome may be the same, but at least I will have tried."

"Are you willing to do that knowing that you could end up disappointed and exhausted? To risk your heart and faith? Can you subject yourself to disappointment time and time again without ending up defeated and with all hope extinguished?"

Charlie pondered Victoria's words for a moment. She knew they had merit. It was a legitimate concern. Can anyone endure being constantly hit with the bitterness of disappointment indefinitely? Did she have the courage and strength? Did she believe in herself to such an extent? The princess of hell clenched her fists and looked at Victoria with complete confidence in her eyes and replied, "Yes. I know this path can be painful, but I'm willing to go through all of that and more without giving up, without faltering, without turning back, because I know this is the right thing to do, because I know no one else will do it."

Victoria studied her for a few minutes with those amber-colored eyes full of wisdom and intelligence. The judge's gaze was deep and intense, yet Charlie did not waver for a moment. Finally, Victoria smiled.

"I see we're not so different. We're willing to go all the way for our ideals. It means I can trust you. Charlie, I'm going to reveal something to you," Victoria said solemnly. "With the results of this report, I hope to convince the Supreme Judges to create a standardized process focused on redemption. A kind of purgatory. And I want you to be in charge of it."

"What? Me? Is this for real? Do you really think you can convince the Supreme Judges?" she asked with excitement, enthusiasm, and fear. What Victoria was telling her went far beyond what she had dared to dream. It was something very distant and perhaps illusory, but for some reason, she believed it was possible.

"We must be careful, Charlie. There are many things they have hidden from us, or so I believe," Victoria continued with a somber expression. "You see, some time ago, I found a very old book, with a rusty cover. I think it was deliberately hidden. It contains... shocking information. So overwhelming that it made me change my view of everything. I can't guarantee that its contents are real, but it seems true."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, intrigued. She felt a shiver run down her spine. Her hands began to sweat. However, despite the anxiety she felt at that moment, she couldn't help but want to know more.

"This book is a life diary. Before coming here, I was investigating the mentioned names, corroborating facts and dates. For now, everything aligns. Charlie, you are not the first person to try to explore redemption."

Charlie felt a knot in her stomach upon hearing this as confusion invaded her mind. She tried to process those words, but the endless questions assaulting her at that moment were tremendously overwhelming. Her heart raced, and her breath caught. Eventually, she managed to string together a few words. "That's not possible... my father would have told me."

"I don't know if Lucifer is aware of the events narrated in this diary. But it does make very clear why Limbo isolated itself. You can choose not to know anything about this and remain in comfort, or you can read this life diary and learn a story that was erased to the detriment of its protagonists," the judge pronounced.

"I..." Charlie felt undecided. This choice was not simple as it could change her life forever. Who was this being who had written that life diary? Were they the one who mentioned redemption before her? How long ago had that happened? Was her father aware of this? If so, why hadn't he mentioned it? What would her mother do?

"Charlie, you don't have to make the decision now. I have hidden that diary very well. When you're ready, I'll give it to you," Victoria said, trying to offer her some reassurance.

"And what if I'm never ready?" the princess of hell asked insecurely.

"I know you will be," the judge responded confidently.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the room's door. Victoria remained silent for a few minutes before responding. "Come in."

The door opened, and to Charlie's surprise, it was Alastor who entered the room. The princess of hell could see how Victoria's eyes sparkled with intrigue, challenge, and amusement. It was as if the judge had anticipated the arrival of the radio demon and was prepared for whatever Alastor wanted to say.

"Good afternoon!" greeted the radio host enthusiastically. "I see that our esteemed judge looks better today. If you knew how worried Charlie was yesterday," Alastor continued as he placed his hand on the princess of hell's shoulder. "And before you ask why I'm here, I've come to return this possession," concluded the radio demon, releasing Charlie's shoulder and conjuring a book in his free hand, extending it to Victoria. "Oh?" asked the judge, taking the book in her hands. "Isn't this the book I was reading yesterday? It's not exactly mine."

"I figured you'd want to finish it, considering I interrupted your peaceful reading," replied Alastor, resting both hands on his cane.

"Alastor, that's very considerate of you," Charlie pointed out, moved by the gesture. It seemed that both of them were finally getting along. After all, it was he who had brought Victoria back safely, albeit after losing her. But for Charlie, the important thing was that Alastor had made a kind gesture toward Victoria. Perhaps she shouldn't worry so much about making a deal with the radio demon. What was a deal between friends?

"Yes... very considerate," repeated the judge with a slow tone, looking distrustfully at the demon in the red suit. It appeared that the judge's reservations regarding the aforementioned had not diminished in the slightest. Charlie sighed, feeling a bit disappointed. She didn't want to be present when these two argued again. She had a lot on her mind at the moment due to Victoria's words.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're feeling much better, Victoria. I'll think about our conversation."Said Charlie.

"Are you leaving already?" Alastor asked, widening his eyes.

Charlie nodded, feeling a bit curious about the demon's reaction, but she didn't take long to compose herself and make vague excuses as she walked toward the door. "Oh, yes, you know. I have a lot to do with that whole thing. You know, that thing. Don't worry, I have it under control. I hope you two don't argue too much this time. You know, Victoria needs rest." Charlie crossed the door and closed it without waiting for any response. She pondered her actions for a moment as she looked down the hallway. Didn't she sound like her father just now?

Alastor

After Charlie abruptly left the room, Alastor felt a strange and tense silence. Part of him was glad for the absence of the Princess of Hell, as it allowed him to act more freely in his attempt to establish a friendship with Victoria. But another part of him felt somewhat uneasy, and he couldn't quite comprehend why. This confusion made him stand in the center of the room in absolute silence, contemplating the judge who slowly raised an eyebrow out of curiosity at his demeanor. She certainly seemed to be recovering quickly. Her complexion regained color, and her eyes now had that spark that invited challenge. He didn't want to admit how much he had longed for the moment to confront her again, to rub it in her face that he had saved her from a complex situation.

"Well? Aren't you going to boast about rescuing me? Are you not going to scold me for putting myself in that situation?" she asked, still lying on the bed, tilting her chin slightly upward. Alastor observed the wound on her lip. It had already formed a slight scab.

"Not at all, my dear judge! How could I act that way when my act was completely selfless?" he replied, restraining his desire to boast. He didn't want to give Victoria the satisfaction to be right and ruin any chance of getting closer to her. He needed the judge to trust him so he could slowly manipulate her. "Furthermore, although our little debt is settled with this, I still intend to help you navigate through the social circles of Hell. Unfortunately, it may have to be done more subtly than we initially planned due to your little spectacle. But all is not lost," he added, moving towards the chair next to the bed and taking a seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Do you really want me to believe that, Alastor? We both know that altruism is not in your nature," Victoria replied with an uncomfortable smirk. That told Alastor that the wound on her lip was causing her some degree of pain.

"Well, my dear, I think it's time for me to be honest with you. You have earned my respect. There are even things about you that I find quite admirable, and I dare say I could declare you as my eternal rival, for you have proven more than once to be a worthy opponent, and in such a short time! It's clear that I can't simply manipulate you. But it's not in our best interest to interfere with each other's path. That would be annoying. We both pursue goals that don't necessarily have to be incompatible," Alastor stated.

"Are you trying to flatter the judge, Alastor? Oh well, perhaps I should prosecute you," Victoria joked sarcastically. Alastor couldn't help but let out a small laugh. He greatly enjoyed these conversations.

"Oh, come on, Judge. Can't you just accept a compliment? Is that a crime?" he joked back, deviating a bit from his conversation goal. He couldn't help but get carried away by the fun these little duels produced. Once again, she arched an eyebrow. Certainly, she wasn't one to fall for flattery, which didn't surprise him.

"Beyond that. Are you offering some kind of truce?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"In reality, I was thinking more about forging a friendship with you. Before you respond with your charming sarcasm, I am aware that you don't trust me, and that's why I'll make the effort to earn your trust. That's why I've decided to continue helping you with this whole entering into infernal society thing, without asking for anything in return," Alastor said, leaning back against the chair's backrest.

Victoria observed him in silence, trying to read his intentions. Alastor tried to focus on the wallpaper as Victoria's scrutinizing gaze made him nervous. He never imagined that even in such a vulnerable state, she would be able to maintain her characteristic sharpness so strongly. It was simply fascinating. He admired her brilliance and respected her strength. She faced him always with fierce determination, causing him to feel intrigued by the force of her spirit. But this fascination was also tinged with a sense of discomfort and certain anxiety.

"What do you propose?" she finally responded.

"To make yourself known to everyone,"he replied, trying to contain the enthusiasm that her response caused in him. Finally, he had made progress. "What do you think about appearing on my show? A sort of interview. That way, you can attract people to you. You could even announce that your presence in these domains is because you need to inform Limbo about the situation in Hell and that's why you would like to interview as many people as possible. You don't even have to mention redemption."

"Do you want me to believe that you gain nothing? You're trying to deceive me to boost the popularity of your show. Aren't you?"

Alastor couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, come on, dear. My show is already very popular. I don't want to hurt your ego, but I don't need you to attract more listeners, and you know it. I understand that you don't trust me, but don't jump to ridiculous conclusions just because of your extreme paranoia." Alastor looked at her, expecting a sharp response from the judge, however, she remained silent, looking out the window with a contagious calmness.

"You're right. Your show is already very popular, and you have more than enough skills to continue attracting listeners without resorting to me," Victoria responded, turning her face towards him. Her eyes seemed kinder, and her shoulders less tense. Alastor was completely surprised by this response. His mind worked quickly, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out of his mouth. Victoria continued speaking, "I understand your surprise. I can't believe my own words. I accept your offer. I'll make an appearance on your radio show. You'd better not put me in a tight spot with your questions."

"Splendid!" he replied, rising from his seat. For some strange reason, that feeling of discomfort had started to escalate, and it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

"There's something else I want to say," Victoria added. He watched her, unable to move. "Honestly, I don't know what you're planning, Alastor. But there's no excuse that allows me to be ungrateful. Whether you have hidden motives or not, you did save me from a tight spot yesterday. That's a fact. On the other hand, despite what others may say, I firmly believe that it wasn't your responsibility to look out for me. I was the one who disobeyed you and put myself at risk. I don't regret it. I simply did what I believed was right, and I will never be ashamed of it. But I do regret causing you any inconvenience." Victoria looked him in the eyes, offering a small, honest smile, without a trace of sarcasm. "Basically, what I want to say is, I'm sorry and thank you very much for helping me. I say it sincerely, even knowing that you might have acted with ulterior motives."

Alastor was completely bewildered. It was the first time that Victoria's genuine kindness and empathy were directed straight at him. The nobility of her words hit him with overwhelming force as a strange warmth washed over him. He told himself that this warmth must be due to how significant it was to be recognized by someone he had started to see as an equal, which inflated his pride and egocentrism. However, his racing pulse only caused him greater confusion and a whirlwind of thoughts tearing through his mind. He tried to continue rationalizing this warmth her words had produced. Amidst all this turmoil, he decided to cling to an attitude of indifference and complete detachment. "Hm, it was about time you showed a bit of gratitude, don't you think?" he replied lightly, shrugging.

"You're insufferable," Victoria responded, laughing.

"Anyway, once you're fully recovered, we'll do the interview," he concluded before simply leaving the room, using his shadow to transport himself back to his room.

Safe in the privacy of his room, Alastor let out the breath he had been holding and sat down on his bed. Her sincere gratitude and honesty had disturbed him. He felt anger towards himself for fleeing the situation. He couldn't understand why his mind had descended into chaos, preventing him from asking all the questions he had stored away and even broaching the subject of the color of her blood. He couldn't deny that each interaction with Victoria left him more confused than before, but also, to some extent, longing for more encounters. Was he really forming an emotional connection with her? He immediately rejected that idea. He refused to acknowledge the obvious signs of an emotional connection. It was all a game. It was all fascination with Victoria's peculiarities. "What game is she playing?" he said to himself, trying to find any trace of hidden motivation behind that gratitude. "From now on, I must stay more alert. I can't allow her to catch me off guard again. It's like I'm fighting against a rival I can't see or understand."

"How is it possible that she showed me such gratitude even while being able to see my true nature? Even being aware of my possible hidden intentions?" he murmured to himself, once again trying to unravel the mystery behind his reaction. He knew that Victoria was not an optimistic and hopeful person who firmly believed in the goodness of people beyond all evil, unlike Charlie, who seemed even naive. No. This display of kindness was different because it came from someone like the judge.

"I'm losing control," he admitted to himself with resignation.

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TAGLIST!!

@slytherin4ever

LINK PART XI

[drowninnoodles]

Back to UT/DR phase, baby

I spent way too much time looking for this information so if anyone is curious...

Its mostly some pseudo physics things :p

Well, I think everyone here knows this quote:

I haven't seen anyone actually break down Undertale and make references to quantum physics, but if someone did, I'd be grateful for the links because I find it very interesting. Well, I thought I'd try to do it myself, even though I don't know anything about mathematics or physics. I will rely entirely on internet sources, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

I will also speak rather briefly because no one will want to read long descriptions about something neither of us will understand.

We can start with an obvious introduction about the fact that, of course, this science is about photons and protons. I don't know if there's a point in explaining what I'm referring to, because of course it's the whole thing with Negative Photons in UT, but I'd like to remind you again of my old theory about the black hole. But that's in a moment.

However, this physics is deeply connected with philosophical issues and this is what I am initially going to talk about. So let's start with the, so appropriately named, view of Determinism. In short, it says that all decisions and events are inevitable. Of course, this is the opposite of free will, the ability of individuals to make decisions, because everything is already written down in advance. There are different visions of this view, but I want to specifically address the fact that, according to some, the universe is a determined system. Of course, what I'm pointing to here is that every game has a script that assumes what will happen after making some decision and what ending we will have at, well, end of the game.

Determinism leads us to the next theory, the multiverse or many words theory. This is, by the way, my favorite theory of the world and I'm not talking about Undertale, but about our real one. However, I will explain it as simply as I can, and also remind you that Toby himself said that there are “AUs” in the UT and DR universe. Multi worlds theory is basically that DR may be a world existing in parallel with Undertale, but some event or decision made them go in two different directions. Quite hypothetically, let's take into account that the point in history that divided the universe into two, into Undertale and Deltarune, was the war between Humans and Monsters. During this war, humans and monsters had two possible outcomes, humans winning or monsters winning. We know what happened when the humans won, because this story is basically what we know from Undertale. But what if the monsters won? For now, we can only guess that this is a story from Deltarune, but nothing has been confirmed.

Another example would be that when you play Undertale you have a lot of options to choose from, right? So let's follow this lead and choose the most significant one, i.e. killing or not. Of course, the ending of True Pacifist is generally considered to be the true ending, but in Genocide we also get one. Here we started one story in the same way, but our choice created two different worlds existing in parallel. One world is the one where everyone is happy and the other is the one where everyone is dead. Of course, the fact that we have a choice does not give us complete free will, here the theory is combined with the already mentioned determinism. Because although we make decisions, their consequences are already determined, they exist because there is a game script. By the way, maybe why there are so many cats in Deltarune is simply a reference to the so-called Schördinger's Cat, but this is just a guess.

In any case, quantum physics nicely explains the existence of what we call the timeline.

While searching Wikipedia, I also came across something called String Theory, but I can't understand it, so you'll have to forgive me.

Now I will talk about what I consider to be the most logical explanation of the history of what "Dark Darker Yet Darker" refers to. Black Hole, of course.

The Black Hole has such a strong force of gravity that nothing, not even light, can escape from it. When an object falls into such a hole, all information about it is lost for observators. There is a black hole information paradox, but once again, my brain is too small to understand. We can also keep in mind that "darkness keeps growing” didn't mean it was getting darker. That meant there was literally MORE of it. Black Holes grow by eating matter, and I dare to propose a theory that opening the Fountains in Deltarune creates small micro black holes that, if not sealed, can devour the world.

Now let me remind you of the well-known fact that passing through this Hole is called Spaghettification or the Pasta Effect. In this process, the object or, in our case, a person, is torn to pieces and their matter is added to the black hole. Poor Gaster, I guess.

As for Sans, Quantum jumping isn't just thing, it's an actual thing in science. Yes, it's something that gives you access to alternate universes. This goes completely back to what I said earlier, that every decision opens up another new world to us, and somewhere we probably exist in another world at the same time. These jumps involve visualizing yourself in a given place and... that's it. You will then attract events that will help you achieve this, which will make you appear in the timeline you wanted to jump to. So personally, I don't think Sans teleports per se. For example, imagine that you meet Sans near his house, and then you go on and meet him again, but this Sans is not 100% the same because he came here from a different timeline. Does this make sense? It depends on whether I explained it well XD.

Also remember that moment when Sans is in several places at the same time? Yes, this also applies to jumping.

I think a good explanation for this might be "It's raining somewhere else". It's raining somewhere else because there was a possibility that it might or might not rain. It is not raining in this world you are in now, but in a parallel space-time it is raining because factors have occurred that allow it to happen.

By the way, according to Google, it is impossible to create a black hole in a laboratory. Oh well.

However, if someone hypothetically created one, intentionally or not, being close to it would have no chance of escaping.

Whoops?

I think it's also worth noting that it's damn cold inside such a hole, -237,15°C is, yeah, a little bit of not sunny.

Maybe that's why Black Holes are so Cool…

So summary at the end:

-Determinism means that everything is written down in advance, i.e. basically the game script.

-Many worlds and Multiverse theory explains why Sans is everywhere, and also that all timelines are happening at once

-Black holes tear people to pieces and it's called Spaghettification. (we all know it)

I don't know anything about physics, so these are just my thoughts.

[mllemaenad]

I think I need a break from Fallout 76. I swore I was going to get through it, and Tessa and I have been making good progress. My biggest complaint up until now is that they won't let you have Sofia and Beckett active at camp at the same time. I'm sure this is a resourcing issue, but Fallout 76 is such a lonely game. I get that you're supposed to play with friends, but unless you have a dedicated role playing group (and while I am sure such things exist, I do not get the impression that they are the majority) that's companionship for the player, not the character. I think Tessa, who did a lot of her growing up in a vault, would love a tiny community of her own.

But I have just slogged through Steel Dawn, trying to justify to myself why Tessa, who loves books and writes poetry and runs down the road to help out Lane and his Responders with food runs or package deliveries every day, would even be there. That's immediately followed by Steel Reign and ... I just can't. Not right now. There is no option to tell the Brotherhood to go the fuck back to California and leave us alone.

The entire first part of the quest line was "these idiots mislaid a bunch of dangerous weapons and are now complaining about other people in the region having the dangerous weapons". You know who I don't think is qualified to have dangerous weapons? The Brotherhood of Steel.

While I appreciate that "dangerous super mutant attacks", which seem to be part two and presumably have something to do with the dodgy scientist guy who showed up earlier, constitute a serious problem ... I am struggling to believe that Tessa would work with them on it. They would also kill Grahm! And Gail! Those are her friends. There are so many other people who could help deal with this, but that's not how the story goes.

So I'm going to give Fallout: London a try. It seems to be the hot new thing at the moment, and I am curious. Mods can be something of a mixed bag, and I'm hesitant to be very critical even when I don't like them, because the labour involved in some of these things ... I can just about do some simple patching in xEdit. So, you know, not really my place to criticise. But I've been trying to mod Bethesda games since Morrowind, and the worst you can say is "Why the hell did I install this? Was I drunk?" and scour it from your game.

But I have (so far) enjoyed Sim Settlements 2 and Tales from the Commonwealth. I did not take to Depravity and Outcasts and Remnants, for several reasons although the ... thing ... with Preston was the last straw (Except that they allowed you to pause your search after going through Kellogg's flat. I do not want to install that mod again ... but I sometimes think ... just for that one feature ... Emily could have a bath and a nap before tearing off again.).

Thank heavens for Mod Organiser 2. I can swap this thing in and leave Emily's load order intact.

I have named my girl Hannah, and since the premise is that you wake up in a lab with no memory of who you are or how you got there, I am going to learn about her as I go.

Initial impressions:

Wait. Is that Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy performing unethical experiments? That's ... something. Tortured by no less than two Doctor Whos.

Radshrews are terrifying. Little mice creatures should not be this hard to deal with. Admittedly with Hannah's fists since the game seems to be allergic to starter weapons.

This is not quite fair, as some guy kindly handed her a pocket knife once she crawled out of the train crash. But we are now fighting raiders with a pocket knife, and it is only slightly easier to deal with.

While Churchill is adorable, and we are keeping him, I do question his previous human's judgement. Hannah is a lost amnesiac wearing the rags she picked off the last raider she killed and wielding a pocket knife she does not know how to use. What on earth made him think she could care for a dog?

Now we need to go talk to some people called "the Thamesfolk" so Hannah can stop taking 30% more damage (Why? Just why? She can be one-shot killed by a bloatfly looking at her funny). We are about to find out how London feels about mutants, I think!

[tinyinvadr]

Alright, here it is! I wrote a little flashback one-shot about Flint’s first week at Whispering Rock. I’ll probably start working on the Rhombus of Ruin fic soon, but I just wanted to write this little piece since I love the dynamic he has with Sasha and Milla so so much.

Flint’s First Week

“Alright… Thank you… Please get back to me if you find anything.”

I had spent about a half hour making phone call after phone call, trying to get in contact with Flint’s parents. With how tight-knit the psychic community is, I was sure someone had to know him or his family, but it was strange. It was like they didn’t exist.

Though, the boy was an unusual case in general. I wouldn’t have even known he was at camp if he hadn’t snuck into my levitation class. I tried to calmly ask him who he was and where he came from, but he panicked and ran off.

It had been two days since he first started showing up in my class, and Sasha and Morceau had also seen him in their minds, behaving in a similar fashion. He was very skittish, didn’t speak much, and would run away if any of us approached him directly. The only pieces of information any of us were able to get from him was his name, and the fact that he used invisibility to hide himself in the physical world for some reason.

Yet, he was stubborn. He was clearly intimidated by us, and seemed to hold a lot of guilt for coming here without his parents knowing. Still, he continued to sneak into every class, trying to learn everything he possibly could while avoiding our questioning.

Even though his resilience was impressive, he couldn’t stay at Whispering Rock without his parents’ permission. I would either need to get a confirmation from them that he could stay, or get them to come pick him up.

Neither of those options would be possible if I couldn’t reach them at all.

It was getting late, so I had to put my search on hold for a while to round up the children and get them into their cabins for the night.

Sasha and I split up this task, him taking care of the boys while I handled the girls. It could be a bit of a challenge, especially the first couple nights. The kids would either be too excited to sleep, or some would be nervous and homesick. But that’s all in a day’s work for a Psychonaut. Helping people manage their emotions is one of the most important things we do.

I went through my list, and all of the girls were accounted for except for Lili. Thankfully, she wasn’t too far. I found her near a patch of flowers, trying to communicate with them.

“Darling, it’s time for bed. You can practice your herbaphony more in the morning.”

She sighed, standing up and glaring at the flowers.

“I just don’t get why it’s taking so long. My dad said he started talking to plants at my age, so why can’t I?”

“We all learn at a different pace, Lili. I’m sure you’ll get it, but it takes time. Now, get some rest, clear your head, and you can try again tomorrow.”

Lili pouted, begrudgingly following me to the cabin. She truly was her father’s daughter. Always wanting to learn something new.

Once all of the children were in bed, I went over to the boys’ cabin to check on Sasha. I found him sitting on the front steps, a forlorn look on his face as he took a drag on a cigarette.

“Something on your mind, darling?”

He sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m… not sure how to talk about this.”

I sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling.

“Sasha, you know you can tell me anything. We’re partners, after all.”

He blushed, giving me a confused look for a second, only to quickly regain his composure.

“It’s about Flint…”

“Have you gotten in contact with his parents?”

“No, and I’m not sure we can. He’s… He’s not like us, Milla.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Sasha paused, trying to figure out how to put it into words. I waited patiently for him to speak, but the period of silence felt way longer than it actually was.

“He’s a borrower.”

That… explained a lot, actually.

Borrowers are common knowledge among psychics, given that we can read minds. It’s a bit of an unspoken rule in the PSI community to leave them alone if you come across them. They aren’t in a place where they feel comfortable interacting with humans, and until they are, the best thing we can do is respect their privacy and boundaries.

But this was a unique case. Flint was a child. A psychic child. A psychic child who was alone, away from his family, and clearly scared. Exceptions had been made before for this exact situation.

“Where is he? We have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“He’s been staying in my lab, but we can’t intervene.”

“Sasha, he’s a child, we have to!”

“No… No, we can’t. Milla, if he finds out that we know about him, he’ll run.”

He did have a point. Flint kept running away even in the mental world. But he also kept coming back. He was determined to learn, even though he was afraid.

“But it seems like he wants to stay here. Maybe if we calmly explain that we aren’t going to hurt him, he’ll stick around to talk things out.”

Sasha sighed.

“We can’t take that risk. I’m not sure how he got here, but he likely stowed away with one of the campers. If he runs, he has no way of getting home. He’ll be alone, at the mercy of nature itself, not to mention the psitanium-affected wildlife.”

“But we have to do something. Does he know how to survive on his own? Can’t we at least leave resources out for him?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in that, but we’ll have to be subtle about it. There’s no telling how he’d react if he found out.”

I didn’t like keeping this a secret. Flint clearly wanted to make a name for himself as a psychic, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered coming to Whispering Rock. But if he wanted that to happen, he would have to tell us the truth eventually.

I was worried that the longer we kept pretending we didn’t know his secret, the more upset he would feel when the truth got out.

“We can’t do this forever. He’s going to find out at some point. I agree that we shouldn’t confront him directly, and he should tell us on his own terms when he’s ready, but until then, we need to do everything in our power to make sure he knows that he’s safe and welcome here. Otherwise… he could end up running off regardless.”

Sasha nodded, taking another long drag as he was lost in thought.

“Then that’s our best course of action. Help him from a distance, and offer whatever guidance he seeks when he drops into our classes.”

“In that case, we should probably tell Ford and Morceau.”

He winced at the mention of the coach’s name.

“Do we HAVE to tell Morry? You know how he is…”

He adorably pouted in protest, as if that would do anything other than make me wanna kiss him.

“He’s… eccentric, sure. But he’s a professional, darling. He would never harm a student.”

With that in mind, we arranged a meeting in Ford’s sanctuary, and we all agreed to help Flint however we could, whether it was leaving out resources for him, or taking the time to help him adjust in the mental world.

The next day, when he appeared in my levitation class again, he cautiously approached me.

“Um… Agent Vodello? Can I… stay after class and do a one-on-one lesson? I don’t really like having the other kids watch me.”

That was probably the most he’d spoken to me since he arrived, so that was a good sign.

“Of course, darling! I know it can be hard to adjust in a new place with new people, so if you think this will help you get more comfortable here, then we can give it a try!”

“Thank you. Also… I’m sorry I keep running away. This is all so new to me, and I just don’t wanna mess up.”

I smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes widened in disbelief. This must have been strange for him. Even though his projection was in human form in the mental world, he was still very aware that he was a borrower, and this kind of interaction could never happen in the physical world.

“Messing up is how we learn, Flint. It can be scary, but you have to keep trying. Figure out what works and what doesn’t, and move forward from there.”

He nodded, smiling for the first time since I met him.

“You’re right. I’ll keep trying. And one day… I’ll be a Psychonaut!”

“I’m sure you will. But you’ve still got some growing to do.”

He chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

I had to stifle a laugh. It was clear he was feeling better if he was already joking about his situation. Of course, I couldn’t let him know I got the joke.

For the rest of that first week, the other counselors and I met up every night after the campers went to sleep to discuss Flint’s progress.

Our efforts to guide and encourage him were proving effective, and he was already starting to show a lot of potential. Small as he was, he had a powerful mind. Even Morceau seemed impressed with him, which was rare for him to admit.

At the end of the week, I went with Sasha to his lab after our nightly meeting, since he had been working on something and he wanted to show me. When we got there, we were met with the sight of Flint, fast asleep on the workbench.

I had to do a double take. I knew he was tiny, but this was my first time seeing him in person.

Sasha slowly approached the workbench, looking concerned.

“What is he doing out here?” He whispered.

I walked over to stand beside Sasha, and then, I noticed that Flint had fallen asleep on an opened issue of True Psychic Tales. Specifically, it was one about the two of us.

“I think he was just doing some late night reading. Maybe he wanted to get to know us better?”

“Well, he’s not gonna accomplish much from reading that. They’re heavily exaggerated.”

“Aww, let him have fun, darling. He deserves it.”

Flint seemed to be at ease, considering how sound asleep he was. I was worried he would hear us and wake up, but that wasn’t an issue. Still, I couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable sleeping on a comic book.

Sasha thought the same, and used his Telekinesis to move Flint into his bed, which he had made out of a matchbox and pieces of cloth. We could only hope he wouldn’t notice we moved him when he woke up, but he had to have been so tired that it would be easy for him to believe that he simply didn’t remember going to bed.

“How long do you think it will be until he fully trusts us?”

“It’s hard to say. But we’ll just have to be here for him until then. However long it takes.”