#what a weird unrelated coincidence

[imma-dragon53]

I think something that a lot of batfam fics don’t take into account, especially fics where they meet the justice league, is that the kids alone could reveal Batman’s identity.

Of course Batman doesn’t want to introduce his kids to the league. If he only had one or two? Sure he’d probably eventually be ok with them meeting, lots of people in Gotham have one or two kids. But there are at minimum 6 bat kids, if you’re only counting the ones he adopted legally, though we all know that Steph is always there for the shits and giggles. The number of people in Gotham who have six kids? Specifically 5 sons and one daughter? That list is probably pretty short. It wouldn’t take a genius like Tim to link the bats to the Wayne’s, and all of their associates.

Huh dicky Wayne’s best friend is from star city. Batman’s eldest son is really close with kid flash (who also happens to have red hair)

Huh didn’t spoiler make a joke about kissing both RR and Black Bat? Didn’t two of the Wayne kids date the same girl (at different times)

Huh Damien Wayne moved to Gotham at the same time the new stabby Robin showed up.

Hey doesn’t Bruce have a cousin with red hair? Weird so does bat woman

The mere existence of Bruce’s kids could reveal not only his but all of their identities. So of course he’s going to hide their existence.

[brittlebutch]

a lot of people seem to use Entry #61 as 'proof' for the crux of the "Brian didn't care about Tim, he was Taking Advantage of Tim's conditions and Forcing him to work as part of totheark" thing, but honestly when you think about it there's no possible way Brian could have possibly orchestrated that series of events, like you almost have to interpret that as a baffling group of coincidences

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[black-rose-irl]

You know what's kinda fucked up?

Having your cutesy book about Christmas time saints feature a story about three girls in danger of being sold to a brothel because of their father's debts. (St. Nicolas, whose myth of saving those 3 girls from being forced into prostitution by giving them money has turned into the story of Santa Claus)

I mean, it's accurate to the supposed story, but also, looking back at it, it was kind of a fucked up thing to have your kid (like 8 or 9) read out loud to your other children (6 or younger), when you're trying to learn where your names came from.

[tswwwit]

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact. 

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing. 

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’. 

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally -  and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect. 

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back. 

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process - 

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him. 

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person - 

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with -  and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard. 

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag. 

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring. 

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy. 

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin. 

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is. 

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses. 

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong. 

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch. 

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape. 

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

 Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught. 

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating. 

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape. 

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place. 

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room. 

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections - 

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap. 

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for  dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades. 

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up. 

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him. 

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass. 

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site. 

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it - 

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic. 

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile. 

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk. 

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’. 

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths. 

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach. 

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?” 

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.” 

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface. 

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him. 

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick.  There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters. 

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

 Is this a phone? 

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’. 

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this? 

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response. 

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. 

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit. 

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that. 

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work. 

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself. 

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down. 

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end. 

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line. 

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep. 

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal. 

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the - 

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just  

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly. 

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension. 

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon. 

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those. 

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did. 

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again. 

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen. 

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides.  The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing.  No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds. 

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious. 

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement. 

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe. 

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts. 

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed. 

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself. 

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen. 

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless. 

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst - 

The next line of text comes in. 

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take. 

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands. 

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types, 

Try me.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

was i the asshole for dating both a dad and his son at the same time and not telling them about each other?

that one's wild as hell, i know.

let me get this cleared up in advance; this is NOT a fandom thing, everyone in this story is male and OF COURSE an adult (M and i are similar aged but A was a very young father so he's not much older), they both knew i was polyamorous and i was free to have other partners without having to tell them everyone i was dating. this isn't a problem of ages OR cheating. also this was pretty long ago.

so a while back, i was very close with this guy M, and his dad A. i actually met A first, through work, but ended up hanging out with M more due to us being closer in age. i did and still do love them both equally. i started hooking up with each of them (separately of course) and it turned into a relationship. i loved them more than just sex.

but heres the thing, i never told them i was dating the other. again, with the solutions we worked out for my polyamory, this wasn't a case of cheating, and if it were anyone else, i wouldn't be asking this, but it feels a little more important since i was sleeping with their son/dad.

there are a few reasons i didn't tell them, though. i mean, half of it was cause of awkwardness, it would be really weird for them to know that their boyfriend was also with their son/dad. but more specifically, they had a very strained relationship. M was disabled, and cause of that, his dad was kinda too coddling and was weird about M having a sex life despite him being an adult. M didn't like A that much either because of some personal stuff, but A is not a bad person, it was just a misfortune of raising a child young and alone. my country is also not very perfect with gay laws, and while i knew they both were queer, i still didn't want to out either of them to each other anyway.

it was just a coincidence both relationships formed, also. i am very open about being bisexual, and each of them confided in me separately that they were gay too, and it developed from there cause we cared about each other alot. i wasn't trying to cause amything or be sneaky, and i loved them both equally and didn't want to have to choose.

i still care about them but due to completely unrelated circumstances im not in contact with either anymore, though things ended on a good note with both, it wasn't a messy breakup. but i was recounting this as a funny dating story to my newer friends, and some of them said that was really shady of me and even that it was indirect incest? which i dont think is a thing, but it might be.

i can't do anything about it now, but i have been thinking it over and maybe it was a shady thing to do after all. so am/was i the asshole for this?

What are these acronyms?

[catboybiologist]

Are you comfortable with questions about your journey to HRT?

Like, mentally how you took the leap of faith from femboy to needing something more / different. Asking for, uh, *a friend*, yeah 👀

Holy shit, this got long. This springboarded me into a massive writing about how my life influenced my personal gender philosophy, and is probably more than you bargained for. But I hope it's helpful in some way! I actually had a similar conversation recently with an NB, not on HRT friend of mine. What's the jump that makes you want to do HRT?

I don't think my experience parallels that of a lot of people's - everyone's is unique. But I do think there are good takeaways from my thoughts on this. Now that I have an Adderall prescription and my quarter is about to end, I've started writing some kind of more cited and developed essay or video essay, but that's random future stuff. This post itself is gonna be a little rambling, and a little personal. Sorry!

Vaguely, I think that the *push* to start HRT was a distinct force from tearing down the internal barriers associated with HRT, if that makes any sense. For many people, I think they have some sense of a mild preference of the gender they would "want" to be, but it doesn't bother them enough to actually break down the barriers to transition. For me, breaking those barriers, both internal and external, was as important as the motivations to transition themselves.

One of the major barriers in people's heads, often without them realizing it, is some kind of inherent belief in the "sanctity" of their body. For many people, "permanent changes" are terrifying, "unnatural", and even if they don't have medical risks, intrinsically *feel* like a medical risk they're taking on some level. It's an offshoot of purity culture in a weird way- it's the same root as a fear of psychiatric medicine making you "not you". Much of this is intrinsically religious, but a lot is actually not. I had a little bit of this growing up. Being raised atheist certainly helped in this regard, even though it was still a queerphobic slavic atheism.

The tiny bit of this I did have was sanctity of my mind, which internally, I still viewed as a separate entity from my body. This was 100% incited by crushing academic pressure, which influenced how I think and my own morality in a lot of unexpected ways. I grew up in a kind of infamously high pressure education area. It sounds unrelated, but it's really not. My mind, academics, and thinking kind of got put on a pedestal on my mind. My personal image of myself was basically a detached orb of thoughts and public speaking. I had 0 connection to my body. But since my mind was everything, both psychiatric medication and HRT were these vile things that could alter how I think and my mood! Gasp!

The final, crushing blow to both of these mentalities was studying biology. And WOW there's so much I could say about how studying biology has influenced how I think about this idea, which I want to talk about a lot more outside of the scope of just a tumblr post. But to summarize- it's not even about finding a biological "reason" for transness. It's about how I saw a living thing as a detailed, dynamic, intricate, constantly changing system that is as much a function of its environment as it is any intrinsic factors. And this includes the mind. So since I'm a shambling mass of chemicals anyways..... Why not be a shambling mass of slightly different chemicals?

The "detached orb" image isn't entirely accurate, though. Because, from an early age, I did have a self image that made me happy. And it was a female one. I shoved this deeply out of my mind in shame, leaving behind the "orb". This was my "push", as I called it before. In addition to a weird separation between my mind and my body, an additional factor contributed to my detachment- a growing distress around developing male traits during puberty, which coincided in the worst ways with academic pressure during teen and preteen years. Looking back, I now recognize this as dysphoria. I don't think my dysphoria was ever as extreme as many other people. But this is why I'm emphasizing taking down barriers as much as the weight of dysphoria itself. It has always been easy to distract from my dysphoria, but it's always been my "resting state" without realizing it.

Linked a bit to the second point is also how I felt shame about exploring any aspect of my life other than academic and professional achievement. Being raised in a high pressure environment means that any exploration of my queer identity felt like a distraction from the "real" things I should be focusing on. The final thing that tore this down, which I don't recommend for ANYONE, was an almost traumatic set of events during the pandemic/my masters degree that made me have a wake up call. I wasn't structuring anything in my life for my own happiness. Going through that made me realize I was going to continue being miserable unless I changed that. So... I started taking the idea of transitioning to actually work on my happiness very seriously.

Being a femboy was actually how I tried to reconcile these things in my head. It was my attempt to "compartmentalize"- allow myself to gently indulge in gender nonconformity and the happiness associated with it, while still not making the "commitment" to fully transition. It helps that most of my existence as a femboy was crossdressing during the height of the pandemic- spending hours on analysis and writing while living alone during my MS, wearing femme outfits while I did it. And of course, taking pics to kick off this whole online persona. I also kind of liked the idea of cis gender nonconformity as a concept, and still do. I love how femboys fuck with gender, and I wanted a slice of that for myself. It wasn't enough long term, and my new commitment to happiness overcame my desire to compartmentalize.

The final barriers were practical. By the end of my masters in 2022, I knew I wanted to transition, I just needed to get my social and financial shit together. Cue moving to my PhD university, becoming active in the queer community here, having an accepting professional environment... and yeah. Here I am. Still gotta socially transition outside of my queer circles, but now, I even have a plan for that. I still got a long way to go, but for the first time, I feel like I'm going in the right direction. And I'm very, very happy.

A lot of this is not applicable to everyone. It's mostly my personal experience. But if there is one thing that I think should apply to everyone here, it's this: kill bioessentialism in your mind. Kill the concept of complete sanctity of your mind and body. Break the barriers and then let yourself move freely across the new landscape you've opened up. At the very least, you'll come out with a more healthy relationship with your cis identity. And at best, you'll find a new part of you that needed to be found.

The other thing I think is broadly applicable is this: when initially figuring things out, stop thinking about what you "are", and start thinking about what you want. Would it make you happy to grow breasts, curves, have a femme face, estrogen regulated emotions, and other transfemme HRT changes? Because those are the actual, physical effects of HRT. If the answer is yes, start it. There's no reason not to. Your identity can come later. You deserve to be happy *for the explicit purpose of being happy*. You don't need to validate that desire through some other random factor.

This got WAAAYYYY too long, but if you have any questions, please, please ask!!!!

[yonkokraven]

Am I the only one who thinks Ida does the "saving heroes" thing better than ochako?

Yes his role throughout the series lessened but it stayed consistent. After the stain arc we always see him helping his classmates . We don't see that with ochako tho. It doesn't feel like apart of her character but apart of her relationship with deku. I mean in the rooftop scene shoto was standing outside of ua and couldn't enter she didn't say anything then. She didn't say anything later when he said his presence would've caused problems, she didn't say anything abut ayoma she didn't even think about any of the heroes that got severely injured or died. She's never even had a thought about allmight (isn't it weird how little 1a interacted with AM) Nothing

Just deku thats it.

Which is why I prefer iida even if just in the background he's constantly checking up on his classmates and making sure their okay

(unrelated but hori def didn't make izuchako Canon to not displease bkdk shippers)

Well, honestly Uraraka works in this "saving heroes" thing because it more or less coincides with the core of her character which is essentially to make those around her happy, but that doesn't mean that yes, you're right and that Iida could have been part of that plot with Uraraka and Midoriya

Iida is the first Legacy Kid that is presented to us and he already has the concepts of heroism deeply rooted in his education, the main problem is that those concepts are completely aligned with the limits of the rules, that is, for a good part of the manga he is regal and incorruptible before the typical ideals of a hero in society, and on two occasions he deviates from this

-Selfishly: wanting to kill (not imprison or detain) Stain

-In a supportive way: Accompanying his classmates to save Bakugo.

After that Horikoshi could continue evolving Iida, but he doesn't, and we see him in action again in the Vigilant Deku arc and in the final war, where his job is to reach Midoriya, and then help Shoto reach his family.

I could start a rant here about how Horikoshi threw away the development of several characters just to give Gary Stu (Bakugo) of this manga his thousandth moment to shine.

But I can criticize him for other inconsistencies that you have pointed out:

-Shoto was able to enter the UA before and after the speech, people's biggest fear was that Midoriya would enter the academy

-Aoyama's scene and overall plot have no impact because we didn't have any focus prior to it (aside from the arc before the provisional exams). There's only an glimpse of an impact because it's revealed that he was quirkless, and we don't get a focus on class A in those types of plots and class A barely has any evolution outside of comic gags.

-Something to note on the subject of injured or dead heroes, is that the only considerable reaction we get from the class to this, is when Midnight dies, and a couple of chapters later they're in uniforms again, it feels like I missed out on about 90 therapy sessions here, but there's no acknowledgement of the deaths surrounding them or adverse consequences like heroes or students quitting.

-Uraraka and All Might... I seem to remember that there was an interaction between her, Iida, Tsuyu and Mineta between the rounds of the sports festival tournament, but I don't know if it is added to the anime only or also in the manga. There is a huge problem with this and that is that All Might was in skeletal form, the same form with which he begins to teach after his fight against AFO, could a plot arise here of how Uraraka or Iida discover the OFA on their own? If so, Hori did not do it because, surprise! Bakugo.

And as for the ships, I have to say, I much prefer Izuocha even though I'm more of a rarepairs fan.

I could make a post later about both ships, but responding to what you said, Horikoshi moves according to who is at the top of popularity, and this doesn't happen in stories with a gram of narrative stability (for example, One Piece).

Although the lack of confirmation doesn't mean that it hasn't happened, Uraraka wearing the Deku mask and focusing on Midoriya's hands (except the ring finger of his left hand) already gives enough of a clue, although I think Hori will leave those important details for the sequel or when volume 42 comes out in December.

[rafayelsss]

Heyo! I love your Rafie fics! I was wondering if you would like to write a fanfic where S/I doesn't like rain. Like she jokes about them feeling like "watery knives", but even if she doesn't like rain too much... She plays in it just to see fish boyo happy even though she is grumbling.

Idk just wanna see Rafayel be a tease more. Lol thank you for your hard work!

my first official request on this blog!! tysm for requesting! i had fun with this one bc i love him

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

content: rafayel x gn!reader (was meant to be fem but in the end no gendered terms were used), no y/n, raf gets a cold at the end

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rafayel somehow convinces you into the rain with him.

The streetlamps scattered around glowed in contrast to the dimly lit afternoon sky, hues of indigo and rouge signaling the beginning of a cold, familiar night in Linkon City.

And what would be a familiar night without Rafayel at your side?

He’s slowly and surely weaseled his way into your routine strolls, in which he now accompanies you whenever he has the time to. Strangely, he always has free space in his schedule for you, which he insists is a coincidence, or that it was simply fate that brought you two together once more.

“So what’s our next stop? The bakery downtown for the third time this week?” Rafayel asked, balancing himself on the curbs of the sidewalk.

“Second, actually.” You corrected quickly with a glare. “Besides, you didn’t have to come along today either… Stop complaining.”

Rafayel feigned mock offense, bringing a hand to his chest as he shook his head. “And leave you all alone in this vast, wide, big and scary city? No way. How could you ever live without me?”

You actually could very well live without him. But he’s too cute to leave, unfortunately.

“I can handle myself just fine, Rafie… You can leave if you don’t want to be he-”

Rafayel cuts through your sentence swiftly. “No thanks.”

Before you could even open your mouth to raise more questions as to what he exactly means by that plain and final answer, your words are diluted by the sudden downpour of rain above.

You watch as most people around you run for shelter from the rain, some more prepared ones opening their umbrellas and calmly carrying on with their day. Being a part of the unlucky few that didn’t bring one, you drag Rafayel to a nearby bus stop.

“Weird… They said it’d be cloudy at most today.” You muttered under your breath, the top of your head already wet, water dripping off the strands of hair.

Rafayel chuckles at you drenched state. “When were weather forecasts ever 100%? This is why you have to think of every possibility.”

“Oh? Does this mean you brought an umbrella?” You raised a brow at him expectantly. If he was so confident, then surely…–

“Nope.”

You stared at him in sheer, unbridled disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“I was going to bring an umbrella,” Rafayel paused for effect to tap on his chin to ponder for half a second. “but it looks like I forgot. I was so excited to see you again that it completely slipped out of my mind.”

“You…” You inhaled sharply and exhaled back out deeply to keep your blood pressure steady.

He flashes you a grin in an attempt to be a little apologetic, but it was obvious he wasn’t one bit.

“How am I supposed to go home with the weather this bad?” You looked up at the sky, the rain still unrelenting in its showers. You didn’t know how long it would last, and it was getting rather late into the day already.

Rafayel tilts his head at you and grabs a hold of your wrist, stepping forward from under the cover of the bus stop and into the drizzling skies. “We make a run for it, duh.”

He says it as if it’s such an obvious solution, one you should have thought of much sooner.

“We could get a cold, and I don’t look forward to walking past the front door soaked from head to toe!” You argue, disapproving of such a reckless idea. But then again, you’d be lying if his suggestion didn’t pique some sort of interest within you. “And it feels like a bunch of watery knives raining down from up above.”

“Don’t worry, if you flap your limbs, dance and doge around enough, and run as fast as you can, you’ll be able to deflect its attacks. And… A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Rafayel eagerly awaits your answer, but you both knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him down if he kept looking at you with those sparkling purple eyes, practically begging for you to accept and loose a little.

His hand slid down from your wrist to your hand, intertwining your fingers together lightly. You return his gesture with a smile.

“Okay, fine.”

—

The next morning, you receive a text message from Rafayel.

Rafayel poked you

Rafayel: [im dying]

You: [Told you you’d get sick.]

Rafayel: [dun u want me to get better? come here and nurse me back to health urself]

—

[dingodad]

If troll blindness causes their eyes to be red, as

shown with Terezi and post scratch Aranea, then why

does Sollux’s eyes turn black when he goes blind?

Does he just lose his eyes completely? Did he ever

have eyeballs in the first place or does he just have

open sockets with red and blue energy. It kinda looks

like blind Sollux he just has empty eye sockets. Did

being hit in the head just destroy his eyes entirely,

whereas Terezi retained the actual structures of her

eyes? I know its the same with every blind psionic,

since hiveswap shows they have the same black

eyes as well. I’m not sure psionics have irises or

pupils either but I’m not sure that extends to all

goldbloods. I also can’t help but think of how

Cherubs eyes become black when they become

ghosts, though this is probably a coincidence, since

they aren’t blind. This is a bit of a weird question,

sorry about that lol

the ways terezi and sollux went blind are pretty crucially different. terezi's eyes were burnt, sollux... i guess i don't know? people say "head trauma" but when you actually look at the series of events it's clearly a blow to the torso which leads to some internal rupture, and that's what causes him to cough up blood. so i guess it's super up to interpretation? the only thing that makes sense to me is that it had something to do with having his optic blasts countered by a beam of pure angelic light. in which case maybe they were burnt?? i don't know if there's any dialogue that elucidates this matter any further.

this certainly isn't the first time i've heard it suggested that he is literally just missing his eyes, though i've never really seen any reason to believe this. like, wouldn't that idea be communicated more clearly if his sockets were the colour of his blood? (but i DID watch an x-files episode just last night where victims' eyes were burnt out of their sockets by an angel's countenance - so i guess there's actually cultural precedent for this??) considering sollux' eyes can flash different colours it seems like the only reason they were red and blue in the first place was because they were brimming with concussive energy, ala cyclops of the x-men, so it doesn't seem all that odd that they could just change colour in the event of a traumatic injury that also caused blindness. (sollux never uses his concussive blasts after this, so far as i can recall, but he DOES use his telekinesis, which starts to appear in black+white instead of red+blue... so i guess those are just two completely unrelated powers??? it's really unclear!!!)

you would THINK this is what they were trying to evoke by giving folykl black eyes and a similar psychic deficiency, but i haven't retained enough about any of the hiveswap trolls to know if she's even blind. poinko suggested she was before friendsim ever released and descriptions of her development imply that she was conceived of as being blind - and that this was maybe changed into a purely psychic disability as the concept was refined? - but nobody seems to have ever listed this on her wiki article so i've got genuinely no idea if this idea manifested itself in any of folykl's actual appearances. i mean, i wouldn't have guessed that she was born with no eyes, but i really don't know.

the cherub thing i've never even been able to figure out to begin with. it does feel totally plausible that it's connected to sollux' thing, since both sollux and the cherubs go through various phases of being either one soul in two bodies / two souls in one body...? but i would also be very willing to believe that dead calliope DOES just have a skull with no eyes, since the cherubs have always had glassy "window to the soul" doll-eyes and have been known on occasion to take their eyes out and replace them with something else.

so. this is a really good question. i just don't know if i have the answers for it LOL

[systemlemonzibus]

I just realized what made Walter White become Heisenberg. In season 1 episode 5 during the weird family meeting/intervention for Walt, Walt takes custody of the talking pillow to stop his family members from bickering about whether or not his decision to not get treatment for his lung cancer is justifiable. Walter, after this moment, is never seen relinquishing control over the talking pillow. In the next scene, we see him agree to get treatment and, as a direct result, begins cooking meth again. This is the birth of Heisenberg. Throughout the show, Walter White is an extremely lucky character. He survives unbelievable odds time and time again. As Jesse says, Walter is smarter and luckier than anyone else. This isn't because he's breaking his bad. It's because the power of the talking pillow is controlling him and leading him down these paths. Dark, twisted deeds spurred on by the unrelenting urges given to this mere mortal man who has defied all reason and sought to bend such supernal forces to his will. Walt is the unluckiest motherfucker on the planet. This all changes immediately the second he takes up the talking pillow. Before this, he is a high school chemistry teacher who got fucked over by his friends from college. Immediately after, he's surviving explosions in meth dens. And it only ramps up from there. The last scene, Walter is shot. This isn't a coincidence. Clearly, Walt lost possession of the talking pillow. In his haste to get out of Albuquerque, he left it behind and it did not end up going with him to New Hampshire. The Heisenberg we knew could've easily avoided the random bullet that struck him and eventually led to him bleeding out. Without the talking pillow, however, Walter was once again mortal. His head cleared while he was in New Hampshire and thus he was able to do the right thing, but he no longer had the protection once afforded to him. I worry about where the talking pillow ended up after Walt loses it. We can only hope that it was lost when the feds RICO'd the White family home. That it is perpetually lost in some federal storage facility, never to be seen again. If the Whites kept possession of it, though… I weep to think what may happen to Skylar or Flynn. What horrors either of them may unleash upon the world in the footsteps of Heisenberg and his Godlike Talking Pillow. I suppose we can only hope--nay, pray--that, if the White family still does have it, it requires a certain personality to fall victim to its seductive whispers. That neither Skylar nor Flynn are the sorts of people who will become puppets to this evil artifact's machinations. Its whims. We can only pray…

[aihoshiino]

A character I wish got more attention was the crow girl. Like we saw she got a role in the movie and that’s it nothing else. Haven’t seen her be cryptic or anything.

I wanna know what your thoughts are on this, especially since she supposed to play as the twins!!

I'm super curious about her! I think it's kind of weird that her inclusion in the movie ended up being so Nothing when it was presented as such a big deal but I guess we'll see more of her if we ever get to the scenes of baby AQRB. Though wtf does it even imply about her existence in the world that they were able to hire her.

As a feature of the story, I don't necessarily disagree with the fandom consensus that she's mostly an exposition dispenser but tbh I don't mind it THAT much. There's been some capital I Implications from hour zero that AQRB's reincarnation was no accident or coincidence so I think having a supernatural character who is in the loop end up guiding them along in certain directions for unknown purposes is pretty interesting. I also think there's some really juicy thematic Vibes in the idea of there being a dubiously antagonistic force who, rather than lying, manipulates and beats the twins around with painful truths they don't want to acknowledge.

As a CHARACTER... I definitely think she suffers a lot from Akasaka's reliance on mystery box storytelling. She was definitely just introduced to be spooky and weird and to imply greater secrets about her existence but none of that has really resolved into anything meaningful or even that engaging about her, because she's just held together with exposition glue and mystery tape. Not that I dislike her or anything! It's just a case of like, wow the guy writing you really isn't sure what to do with you lol

In fact, I have a secret suspicion that Akasaka changed his mind on who and what she was supposed to be partway through the manga?? Like, the corvid associations and general spookiness had pretty much everyone I know going "so she's Yatagarasu? OK" from basically hour zero only for him to hit us with the Tsukuyomi steel chair out of nowhere!!! I don't think she was even associated with the moon imagery wise at all until the heavy handed mention of it just prior to her name getting dropped so I really do think Akasaka just. Initially wrote her as Yatagarasu and then changed his mind HAHA

On an unrelated note, I've been playing Okami again and one of the plot coupons in that game is a sword named Tsukuyomi and every time it got name dropped I went

[foone]

Seeing that last ask actually makes me wonder.

Why'd you pick Foone? I get Turing, that's cool (and while I see why you didn't choose Alan for your middle name, FAT also just means File Allocation Table. I know, a bit silly of a reason why it'd still be cool, but it keeps with the computer theme) but what made you pick Foone?

Is it a reference to something? Is it a shorter version of a longer name?

okay so, foonelore:

I was playing a C64 game, and I lost and it asked me to enter my name. I entered "FOO", assuming it was just asking for initials. It wasn't, and would take more letters. I then tried to use the joystick to complete the name entry and restart the game, so I could play again. This instead entered "NE", turning my "FOO" into "FOONE". I liked this name, and I kept it.

As for why it entered "NE", well the C64 made an assumption that games would either use the keyboard or the joystick. So the joysticks are wired through the keyboard matrix. This was a smart trick to save on keyboard controller IO pins, but it does mean that moving the joystick will type random characters on the keyboard. Normally this isn't noticeable, as games are set up to ignore the keyboard when using the joystick, or vice versa.

And as for why "FOO", well, "FOO" has long been a nonsense word in the geek community. Basically it's used as a placeholder or metasyntactic variable, for meaning "this name doesn't mean anything", alongside BAR and BAZ and some others. Like if you were explaining how to add numbers in a programming language, you might say:

To add 1 to a variable, you type FOO += 1

The use of "foo" is to make it clear this is a replaceable placeholder, not an important part of the syntax. As for why Foo is a placeholder word... It goes back to a 1930s surrealist comic called Smokey Stover, which used it as a nonsense word. Reportedly this was because the artist saw a jade figurine with "foo" written on the bottom of it, and out of any context thought this was hilarious. It probably was there as a transliteration of the Chinese word Fú/福, meaning fortune or good luck.

So taking all these sources together, the name therefore would mean something like "contextless fortune, combined with glitchy nonsense". Which wasn't planned, but I think it fits.

It's also unrelated to the Mende man of the same name, who died in Connecticut in 1841, after being kidnapped from his home in modern day Sierra Leone by Spanish slavers. He was never a slave, even if his FUCKING GRAVESTONE GETS THIS WRONG, but never got to sail back home, as he drowned before the money could be raised to charter a ship home. Although fun fact: his gravesite is like 10 miles from where my dad grew up. Weird coincidences, eh?

Extra fun fact: that Foone drowned in the Farmington Canal, which no longer exists. It's only slightly weird that I named myself based on nonsense and it turns out to have been a name used by someone who drowned in a river that's not there anymore? just slightly.

[sharp-rosee]

child sexual abuse content sharing communities have a high correlation with communities that share animal abuse content, sexual or otherwise. People are delusional to think pedophilia is about attraction. It's about sadism, that's the true commonality among all pedophiles, and this level of sadism is caused by entitlement etc like you said. It's also why some pedophiles think they're not that bad and compare themselves to pedophiles who injure children more, they're claiming virtue because they're less sadistic than they could conceive to be. Sorry if this is weird to share, you get these insights by understanding Internet history and how these communities form, are caught, etc, even though very few people make the connection of what it's about. But next time you're unfortunate and see a pedo being arrested or something notice how their behavior fits this. Meek in front of authorities but often brazen and smug if they think they got away with it for example makes sense if you understand they're sadists, and not that there is some unrelated personality defect in all pedos like being cowardly

THIS 100%

As someone who is also very online, this addition isn't weird at all and honestly I would love for this to be reblogged on my post as this is an excellent addition, and sums up better than what I was trying to say.

Society has always endorsed abusers and abusive like tendencies. It's why the patriarchy has survived for so long and why misogyny has existed in every culture. The creation of porn is a direct result of this, and from porn consumption, it puts society's teachings into motion, which is why these paraphilias are often seen developing through frequent pornography use. And because the nature of fetishes and paraphilias always escalate, as any addiction does, soon the furries become zoophiles, soon the loli-consumers become pedophiles, and as because they all coincide with another like you say, it's why most trans identified men are revealed to be pedophiles/consume pseudopedophilic material, and are also furries. It really is all major taboo fetishes all in one. Most notable TIMs on Tumblr, like patricia-taxxon and assignedmalecomics, have been exposed to have all three fetishes/paraphilias.

It is no coincidence, then, that we see furries and other paraphilia-havers being pushed to be accepted as "Queer", same with kink and even that post going around trying to make kink be "non-sexual" as well, because most trans identifying males are these things too, and they want to be able to normalize further abusive/sadist tendencies they have.

We have real societies in history to look at to see the normalization of pedophilia, like Roman men who raped young boys, the normalization of child rape amongst Christian nations (and even seen today in the Vatican ignoring child abuse/rape scandals). I have to wonder, if men succeed in dominating "Queer" ideology with their kinks and paraphilias, would we also see a resurgence in accepted cases of child abuse?

My apologies anon, I kinda rambled here lmao. I just find this acceptance of male degeneracy so disgusting and yet amazing, how we all as a collective have seemed to accept it as normal. It drives me insane.

[deaderthandoubledead]

I wonder how much of the stuff from ep 7 will end up being red herrings?

What if Celia didn't actually recognise Chester's voice, it just reminded her of someone from TV?

What if the email from Jon/John Sam got was completely unrelated to our Jon Archivist and just a weird coincidence?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

am i the assshole for softblocking a person (and… existing, apparently)?

so this requires a bit of a backstory. recently i realized that i hadn't seen a certain mutual (person A) on my dashboard for a bit. i decided to go check their blog directly. when looking for it, however, no results were returned. curious, i went to check on a reserve tumblr account i made when my main got nuked, and this person did not delete their blog, they blocked my main. that seemed weird, because i don't remember any negative interactions with them, but i can be hotheaded and say things i later regret, so it wasn't implausible i said something to upset them. i decide to check the blog of a different person (person B) who i know is friends with the aforementioned one, and that person has me blocked as well. "that's not a coincidence", i think, and after sitting on it for a bit i decide to ask a third person, who was friends with both of them, and whom i consider my friend as well, whether i have done something that might have upset them at any point. they tell me that no, there isn't anything like that they can recall. after explaining what prompted this, i received an explanation that frankly baffled me.

turns out, person B was quite distressed with things related to me. according to them, i was an incredibly cool person who everyone was friends with, but i blocked them for no apparent reason and everyone kept discussing just how cool i am, which led to them feeling invalidated and upset. i should clarify, that i did block one of person B's sideblogs on which they post fanfiction for the fandom we're both in, because i wasn't quite comfortable seeing the kind of stories they write and it showed up in character name search if i didn't block the blog. i did not permablock their main blog, but i did softblock it a couple times because again, i'm not completely comfortable with what they write and would rather avoid interactions with them after finding out. i did not have any particular feelings about them as a person, because we barely ever interacted. and while i would not say that i am lame or something like that, i am also not nearly as cool as person B felt. there is a non-zero amount of people who either have me blocked or don't follow me back, and i rarely post original content, most of my blog is just reblogs of memes or other people's creations. i am a perfectly ordinary tumblr user. but i caused them enough distress that they chose to leave a discord server they were in because they talked about me so much, and for some other personal reasons i'm not quite sure about.

recently, i joined the guild and the server this person was claiming was so fond of me -- partially to see for myself how much people really mentioned me, but also for unrelated reasons. being the nosy person i am, i ran my name through the search function on discord. there was a total of six messages mentioning me in that server. in a total of four conversations. so i have been individually brought up 4 times. which apparently equates to a three hour conversation about me, according to person B.

to clarify, i am not saying person B's feelings are unreasonable -- i do know what it's like to feel ignored or outshined by someone, but i don't think i have personally contributed significantly to them feeling this way, nor do i think they interpreted any of my actions correctly.

so, aita for curating my dash and being brought up in a discord server half a dozen times? i genuinely can't tell.

What are these acronyms?